Forgotten Darkness Page 5

  But this was different.

  Without her, everything was different.

  “Look, just promise me that you’ll let me know before you go out on another rogue mission to track down a hunter or some kind of obscure clue,” she said. “I could go with you. Or Essex.”

  “I don’t want to put anyone else in danger. Why can’t you understand that?” I said.

  “Why can’t you understand that you’re being ridiculous?” she said, stomping her foot. “If you keep running off without thinking things through, you’re going to get hurt.”

  I shook my head. “Drop it, Mary Anne,” I said. “I’m tired and it’s been a long couple of days. I just need some time alone.”

  “You’re always alone these days,” she mumbled.

  She placed a hand on the edge of Zara’s cocoon and patted it gently. Without another word to me, she spun on her heel and walked out the door.

  When she was gone, I bent over to retrieve the tattered piece of paper from the floor. I looked again at the promised future and folded it neatly, carefully tucking it away in my pocket.

  I walked over to the open window and stared out at the gardens the king had loved so much. The white roses glistened in the moonlight and the hours passed, each one taking me farther from the promise of hope.

  I Have Never Been Anything Else

  A door creaked open, and a sliver of light crept down the hallway. I squinted even though it was still dim. I hadn’t seen light in several days.

  I lifted my head from my arms, but didn’t move to straighten my legs. I’d managed to find a comfortable position a few hours ago, and my legs had long since gone numb. I doubted I’d be able to move them even if I tried. The stone floor of the dungeons was unforgiving, and after months of living on them, I’d learned to change positions every four or five hours just to avoid sores on my skin.

  It wasn’t exactly a glamorous existence.

  “Hello?” I called out, but my voice was hoarse and unrecognizable. No one had bothered to bring food or water in days. If I’d been human, I’d be long dead by now.

  Footsteps sounded on the stone, and a woman appeared. My heart sank. It had been a week since Ezrah had come to see me. I wanted news, not more of this crap.

  I didn’t recognize this particular woman, but they were all the same: maidservants sent by my father to test my loyalty. I wanted to tell her to turn around and go back to wherever she’d come from.

  But she carried a large stone mug and a loaf of brown bread on her tray.

  My leg twitched beneath me. I tried to swallow, but it was like trying to force sand down my throat.

  I eyed the tray, my teeth clenched with longing.

  “Princess, my name is Anastia,” she said. “Your father sent me to have a word with you.”

  I settled back against the prison wall.

  How many times would I have to play this game?

  He’d sent many different women over the past few months, and they all asked the same questions. They asked what I knew about the Order of Shadows. Where they could find the Resistance Army. What I knew about Harper and her mission to kill the priestesses.

  What no one in this castle seemed to understand was that it was my mission, too. And nothing he did would force me from that path.

  But damn, that bread looked good.

  My stomach ached with hunger.

  The cloaked woman—Anastia—set the tray on the floor, just far enough from the bars of my cell to keep it out of reach in case I lunged for it. I hated to tell her, but there was no lunge left in me at the moment.

  She pulled up a dusty wooden stool, letting the legs scrape against the dirty stone floor. The sound carried throughout the prison, but there was no one here for it to bother but me.

  Imprisonment might not have been so bad if they had left me next to Aerden. At least I would have had someone to talk to. Someone to touch through the bars to remind me of my life.

  But my father must have known it would be too easy for us if we stayed together. He’d separated us only days after he’d first put us in chains, sending Aerden to the main prisons above and keeping me down in the lower dungeon alone.

  I’d been alone for so long, I’d lost count of the days.

  “What do you want?” I asked. I’d grown tired of this game. It was the same every week. They asked questions, and I refused to answer them. I had nothing to offer a mad king who would sentence his own daughter to this fate, leaving me in the dungeons to rot.

  “Where is the girl? Harper?” she asked.

  I opened my eyes and studied the woman. This was a new question.

  They usually wanted to know her plans, not her whereabouts. What was going on?

  “I didn’t realize she was missing,” I said. “For all I know, she’s locked down here in these dungeons, just like me.”

  I moved my arms and tried to straighten my legs. Pinpricks of pain shot through them, like a thousand fire ants dancing inside my veins. I longed to be able to shift out of this form.

  Anastia shook her head and stood. She leaned down to retrieve the tray, but I forced myself up and grabbed hold of the bars with both hands.

  “Please,” I said, hating the sound of desperation in my voice. “I don’t know where Harper is. The last time I saw her, she was at home at Brighton Manor in the human world. She was alive and well at the time. Has she gone missing?”

  Why hadn’t Ezrah told me about this?

  Anastia paused and gently set the tray of food and water back on the stone floor. She didn’t sit down, but at least she hadn’t left.

  “You heard that Brighton Manor was attacked?” she asked. “Burned to the ground?”

  I nodded. “I heard.”

  “Who would have done this?” she asked.

  “The emerald priestess,” I said. They already knew the answer to that question, so why even ask it?

  “You’re sure of this?”

  “I don’t know for certain, but when I left, she’s the one we all assumed had stopped time,” I said. “Part of why I left in the first place was to find out for sure who was behind the attack on Harper’s city in the south.”

  One eyebrow went up and she stepped closer.

  “Harper’s city?” she asked. “Isn’t it her father’s city?”

  “Her father’s dead,” I said.

  “Yes, but Harper never had an official coronation,” she said.

  “No.”

  “It’s our understanding she has a sister, as well,” Anastia said. “A half-sister who is actually older than she is, is that right?”

  I nodded.

  Why did they insist on asking me questions they already knew the answers to? Besides, I was the one who’d been locked down here for months. If they really wanted answers about Harper, they were in a much better position to find them than I was.

  “Then why did you call it Harper’s city?” she asked.

  “Because when her father died, he told her he intended for her to rule,” I said.

  I had no idea where this line of questioning was going, or how long I was expected to play along with it, but as long as the questions didn’t seem to betray any information that would put my friends in danger, I didn’t see the harm in it.

  I eyed the tray again.

  “Are you thirsty?” she asked.

  I gripped the bars tighter, thinking that if the woman was standing a bit closer, I would like to put my hands around her neck and squeeze as hard as I could. She had to know I was thirsty. Wasn’t that the point of her torture?

  “What would you do for a drink of water?” she asked. Her eyes actually glimmered in the low light. She was enjoying this.

  “What would you ask of me?”

  A smile tickled the corners of her mouth, and she straightened.

  “All your father wants is to know that his daughter has returned to him,” she said. “He still adores you, despite your numerous betrayals.”

  I bit down on my tongue to keep from lashing
out at her. It took an enormous amount of effort. Holding my tongue wasn’t exactly in my nature.

  She leaned over and retrieved the mug from her tray, holding it just out of my reach. Taunting me.

  “Do you feel you are ready to be the king’s daughter again?” she asked.

  “I have never been anything else,” I said.

  She narrowed her eyes and pulled the mug back. “Perhaps a few more days without food and water would help you to realize the extent of your betrayal.”

  “No,” I said. I cleared my scratchy throat and pressed my face against the bars. My hair was matted and tangled against my head. “Please. I’m thirsty.”

  She turned toward me, holding the mug closer. “Are you ready to rejoin the royal family?” she asked. “To turn your back on those who seek to betray the king’s wishes? Are you ready to hear of his plans and join him in his quest to restore the Northern Kingdom to its former glory, no matter what it takes?”

  If I said yes, would you give me that freaking mug?

  I swallowed, my throat sore and dry. There was no way I was going to turn my back on my friends. Not now. Not ever.

  But that didn’t mean this woman had to know that.

  “Yes,” I said, hating the desperation in my voice. “I’m ready.”

  She smiled and handed the mug to me.

  I reached for it, my mouth already imagining the cool, fresh taste of water. But as I brought the stone mug to my lips, I realized it was completely empty.

  I tipped it over, praying for even one drop of water. None came.

  I dropped the mug to the floor and slid down the bars to the floor. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I suddenly felt so incredibly tired and weak. I hardly recognized myself.

  Shame made me shiver.

  Anastia bent over to retrieve the fallen mug and placed it on the tray.

  “Maybe next time, you’ll mean it,” she said.

  She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving me in darkness once again.

  Some Part Of Her

  The garden was drenched in sunlight. It was the kind of day Harper would have loved, and it broke my heart to know there could still be so much beauty in a world where she was being held prisoner.

  I turned away and walked into Harper’s bedroom. There were traces of her everywhere. Even though we’d been spending most of our time at Brighton Manor before our fight against the emerald priestess, she’d also been coming to the castle a lot during those months.

  I moved to her bedside table and ran my fingers across a blue ribbon she’d left behind. I missed her so much it hurt every part of me.

  The door to her room opened and Tuli stopped short, nearly dropping the vase of white roses she was carrying.

  “I’m so sorry, Jackson. I didn’t know you’d be in here,” she said. She lowered her head, her cheeks flushed. “I can come back another time.”

  “No, it’s fine,” I said. I left the ribbon on the table and walked back to the balcony.

  There were no doors or windows on this side of the room. Instead, beautiful stone arches opened up to a balcony that overlooked the gardens. How many nights had I watched her stand in this very spot and stare at the flowers, talking about her father?

  “You miss her, I know.” Tuli set the vase on the table in the center of the room and joined me on the balcony, the cool breeze blowing her hair back. “I miss her, too.”

  “Thank you for all the work you’ve been doing in the castle since she disappeared,” I said. “I know Harper would appreciate it.”

  Tuli blushed again. “When she comes home, I want her to know that her things have been taken care of,” she said. “I want her to see that we’ve been thinking of her all along.”

  I smiled and forced back tears.

  “Is there anything else I can do for you?” she asked. “I made some pastries this morning. I can bring a basket up for you, if you’d like.”

  “No, thank you,” I said. “I appreciate it, but I’m not hungry.”

  “You haven’t been eating enough lately,” she said. “You need to keep your strength up.”

  I shook my head. I had no appetite. I couldn’t think of food or sleep. All I could think about was bringing my family back together and getting revenge on those who had torn us apart.

  “Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine,” I said. I wanted everyone to stop worrying about me. All our attention should have been focused on finding a way to save the others.

  Tuli curtsied and lowered her head. “I will leave you to your thoughts,” she said. “If you need anything, please call for me.”

  I nodded as she straightened and left the room.

  I paced the floor in front of the bed, trying to decide what I should do now. I thought about what the hunter had told me before she died. She said that when she’d disobeyed the priestess, she’d been taken to an institution of some kind to be added to the emerald priestess’s collection. What did that mean, exactly?

  I had to find someone who knew more.

  I walked over to the bag I’d stashed in the corner of the sitting room. I’d promised the hunter that I would find her mother, so I had grabbed everything I could find in her lair and stuffed it into the bag, hoping I would be able to find some clue as to who this hunter used to be when she was still human.

  I opened the top of the enchanted bag. It was one Essex had crafted for me. Like the tool kit, this bag was enchanted with a special spell that allowed me to carry a large amount of items in a small container.

  I removed the hunter’s things, looking through trinkets and stones and setting each thing aside after I’d studied it. At the bottom of the bag, I found a photograph inside a roughly carved wooden frame.

  I took the frame over toward the table, placing it directly under the light as I sat down to study it. The picture was of a young girl, no more than seven or eight years old, sitting on her mother’s lap and smiling at the camera. From her eyes, I was sure this was my hunter as a child.

  I cracked open the frame and pulled out the photograph, turning it over in my hands. On the back, the writing was faint and faded, but I could just make it out.

  Juliana Rodriguez. Age 6.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. I had her name. Finding a record of her might be impossible, since I knew the Order had a habit of altering legal records to hide their activities. But her mother would likely have the same last name, and now I had her picture. If I had to search every single emerald gate town in the world, I would find her.

  And maybe this woman would somehow lead me one step closer to finding Harper.

  I set the photograph on the table and packed a new bag for myself, grabbing a map of the emerald gates and stuffing it in the outside pocket.

  I left the castle without telling anyone where I was going. Mary Anne and the others were concerned about me, but what they didn’t understand was that I kept them at arm’s distance to protect them. The places I had to go were dangerous, and I’d already lost too many of my friends. I couldn’t afford to lose anyone else. They were safer here in the castle.

  I made my way down to the garden of white roses and crossed through the portal into the human world. On the other side, I paused briefly at the two graves there by the lake.

  Harper’s father—lost to us during the final battle against the sapphire priestess—and Courtney—taken from us by the emerald priestess’s daughter Sophie just a few months earlier.

  As I stood for a moment to honor the dead, I sent up a silent prayer that no more graves would ever have to be added to this site.

  I shifted and flew through the woods toward the ruins of Brighton Manor. Inside the shed behind the burned house, I found my old motorcycle. I couldn’t afford to travel in demon form for very long in this world. It would leave too much of a trail.

  I would have to drive.

  I hated to lose the time, but Mary Anne was right. I needed to be more careful. The emerald priestess had set a trap for me, and I had walked right into it. I
’d nearly died at the hands of that hunter and her rock golems. I would have if it hadn’t been for Rend’s potions.

  I couldn’t afford to be so careless.

  As I drove past what remained of Harper’s old house, I held back tears, a part of my heart mourning all that we had lost in the months since the emerald priestess first attacked.

  Seeing this place made me miss Harper more than ever, the ache so deep it physically hurt to leave it behind.

  “Where are you?” I whispered into the wind, hoping that somewhere, some part of her still listened for my voice.

  Coins For The Ferryman

  Voices seemed to come to me through a tunnel, their echo reaching me in waves of awareness. One second I could hear them as if they were standing beside me, and the next, they disappeared entirely into the darkness.

  My eyelids were so heavy, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to open them. It felt as if someone had placed weights on them. Coins for the ferryman.

  Was I dead?

  I tried to push against the darkness, searching for any memory of what had last happened to me, but the thick blackness was too deep and dark to see anything. Nothing came at all. I felt as though I’d been asleep for years.

  As I struggled toward awareness, the pain came with it. My skin burned as if someone were holding a flame too close. I reached back, trying to pull myself from the fire, but my hands were bound at my sides.

  My legs struggled against the bindings too, a sudden panic rising inside me, primal and desperate. Angry. I needed to be free. Why was I being held down?

  My eyes snapped open. Or at least I wanted them to snap. My body wasn’t entirely cooperating with me. My eyelids struggled to open, letting in just a tiny sliver of light that burned just as much as the flames on my skin.

  Only, there were no flames.

  When I was able to look around, there wasn’t much of anything here in the room. Pristine white walls. A pristine white hospital gown covering my body. My hands and feet were bound with leather straps.