Forgotten Darkness Page 6

  Other than that, there was nothing at all. No one.

  The only color I could see was in the depths of the cuts that ran up and down my legs and arms, ugly red scars that were swollen and bruised around the edges.

  I strained my neck to see more, but my view was extremely limited. There wasn’t even a single window in this room. White walls. White floors. A white ceiling with a single metal lamp hanging in the center.

  Where the hell was I?

  My eyes fluttered closed against the brightness of the room. I focused on the cuts along my body. I tried to remember them. I tried to remember what had happened to me.

  It seemed like the kind of thing that should have been easy to recall.

  Not being able to come up with a single memory—not even a brief picture of my life before this moment—hurt worse than the chains on my arms or the cuts or the headache pounding in the base of my neck.

  Something terrible happened, and I couldn’t even remember it.

  Behind me, a door creaked open and someone stepped into the room, their shoes squeaking against the floor. I struggled to turn my head to see her, for some reason expecting a harsh, unsmiling face with eyes full of hate. Instead, a pretty young woman wearing a white nurse’s uniform and a soft smile came into view. She had a clipboard pressed against her chest as she leaned over me.

  “Well, my goodness, look who’s awake,” she said. She placed a hand tenderly on my shoulder. “How are you feeling, Harper?”

  “Where am I?”

  She shook her head and quickly jotted something on her white papers. “Now, now. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, shall we?”

  I didn’t know what to say in response. Asking where I was seemed like a perfectly normal question, and one I desperately needed to know. Would she rather I asked why the hell my hands and legs were chained to this bed?

  “I asked how you were feeling,” she repeated.

  I cleared my throat, trying to figure out what in the world this woman expected me to say.

  I feel like I just woke up from being dead, thanks. May I have a glass of water?

  “I have a little bit of a headache,” I said, instead.

  Her smile returned. “I can get you something that will help with that.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

  I tried to lift my hands. “You could take these off for starters,” I said.

  She instantly frowned, her blue eyes darkening. She even clucked her tongue at me as if I should be ashamed for asking in the first place. “Those are for your own good,” she said. “I trust you won’t ask me to release you again.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. Was she serious?

  “If there’s nothing else, I’ll get some medicine for that headache,” she said.

  “Wait.”

  She paused and cocked one hip to the side, frustration clear on her face. “Yes, dear?”

  “I would hate to get ahead of myself,” I said, letting a bit too much sarcasm into my tone, “but how did I get here? What happened?”

  She pressed the clipboard tight against her chest and pursed her lips. “Don’t you remember, dear?”

  I really wanted to tell her to stop calling me dear. She was speaking to me as if I were a child. My headache was pounding so hard now, I could hardly think straight, and it agitated me. I obviously didn’t remember, or I wouldn’t have asked her.

  “No, I’m sorry, I don’t remember much at all,” I said, trying to control the frustration in my voice. Whoever she was, this woman seemed to have some level of power over my current situation, and I wouldn’t get very far by making her angry.

  I could have sworn a small smile teased the corners of her lips before she feigned sympathy. She placed a cold hand on my forehead and looked into my eyes.

  “You were in a fire,” she said. “You were the only survivor, poor thing.”

  My insides twisted, and I struggled to lift my arms. A fire? I closed my eyes and leaned back against the hospital bed. I could see the flames burning in my memory. I could feel their heat lapping against my skin.

  When I opened my eyes, I had to blink back tears.

  “Please,” I said. “I need to know what happened. Where am I?”

  She shook her head and stroked my hair.

  “You really don’t remember anything?” she asked softly. There was an excitement in her tone, as if she wanted me to say yes. As if she didn’t want me to remember.

  I shook my head, a sense of absolute dread igniting in my stomach and burning its way toward my throat.

  The nurse took a deep breath and pulled her hand away. “You accidentally set the fire,” she said. “Your entire family was trapped inside. Everyone close to you.”

  She leaned down until her lips were nearly touching my ear.

  “I’m sorry, Harper,” she said. “You killed them all.”

  This Wasn’t About Me

  I paced the floor of my cell, my brain in overdrive. I was going insane locked up in this place.

  It had been months, and my father had not come to visit me once. Instead, he kept sending servants who pushed me to declare my loyalty. But how could I be loyal to a father who would sentence me to this darkness?

  When I’d faced him on the day his soldiers first brought me to the castle, my father had called me a traitor, but he was the one who had betrayed us all. I couldn’t get the image of his face out of my mind. Those deep red eyes and his wild hair. His hunched shoulders. How could such a powerful demon diminish so much in just a few decades?

  For years I’d been arguing with Andros about my father’s ability to rule this kingdom. Andros had been waiting for me to make the decision to lead the Resistance into war against the king, but I’d refused to be a part of it.

  Fighting the Order of Shadows was one thing, but fighting against my father? How could he ask me to do that?

  But after months in the depths of my father’s dungeons, I’d finally realized why Andros was so insistent. Why the entire Resistance Army was so set on war as the only option.

  My father was gone. The demon I loved as a shadowling was unrecognizable that day in his throne room. I didn’t know if it was the stress of watching his kingdom turn to ruins or the loss of his only child that had hurt him more, but there was no doubt in my mind that I’d been a part of his deterioration.

  In the beginning, I followed Jackson because he was my betrothed. I felt a duty to go with him while he searched for the truth about his brother. But over time, as his love for me seemed to disappear altogether, I stayed because the fight had become my own.

  It was bigger than rescuing Aerden from the Order of Shadows. If that was all that mattered to me, I would have come back here as soon as I realized it was an impossible task.

  No, I stayed because it was the only choice. I didn’t understand how any demon could stand by and let the Order of Shadows destroy our world. How could my father see what was happening and do nothing to protect his people?

  I wanted to hate him.

  I wanted to kill him.

  But even after everything he’d done, I still loved him. Something deep inside of me wanted to believe that he was still in there somewhere, making the choices he thought were best. He was just misguided.

  After seeing him that day in the throne room, however, I realized there was more to it than that.

  It was more than just stress or age. Something was terribly wrong. If I could see that so clearly when I’d only been in his presence for a few minutes, why couldn’t everyone else see it? Why didn’t my mother do anything to help him?

  I needed answers, and all this dark cell provided was solitude and sorrow.

  It had been days since I’d seen anyone, and being alone with these thoughts was a brand of torture I’d never experienced.

  I slumped against the damp wall of the cell and slid down to the floor. What was I going to do?

  If only Aerden were still locked in h
ere with me, maybe we could have come up with a plan to escape or at least to make some kind of a difference here in the castle. I missed him terribly, and I worried about him more than I worried about myself.

  He’d been a slave for so long. I couldn’t imagine what it must be like for him to gain his freedom only to be locked up again by his own king. It was all my fault.

  And Jackson?

  I closed my eyes and lowered my head. Was he okay? Had something happened to Harper?

  It’s amazing what the heart will try to make you believe when you’re alone with your darkest thoughts. If Harper was truly gone, what did that mean for us? What if there was hope that we could still find the love we’d once had for each other?

  Those were the worst, darkest thoughts during these long hours of solitude.

  I knew that things would never be the same for Jackson and me. His heart belonged to Harper, whether she was dead or alive. And if she was dead, I wasn’t sure he’d even survive the loss of her.

  If she was still alive, he would spend the rest of his days looking for her.

  Whatever he’d once felt for me was gone. Why couldn’t I just accept that?

  The lock on the dungeon door clicked, and I stood quickly and walked to the front of my cell, waiting. It would either be another servant—in which case I would be ridiculed and tortured with the vision of food she’d never let me eat—or it would be Ezrah.

  When his face came into view, I nearly wept for joy.

  “Thank God,” I said. “Any news?”

  He closed the door to the main room and passed the handful of empty cells to get to mine. He reached inside his cloak and took out a piece of bread and a small bottle of water. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get more,” he said.

  I ripped the bread with my teeth, devouring it in seconds. I emptied the bottle, and my body begged for more.

  As a demon I could go for a very long time with no food and water, but it wasn’t the most pleasant experience. My stomach grumbled, arguing with the pitiful offering.

  “I appreciate this,” I said. “Ezrah, why didn’t you tell me something had happened to Harper?”

  He avoided my gaze. “You have enough to worry about down here,” he said.

  “Where is she?”

  “No one knows, exactly,” he said. “Jackson and the others fought the emerald priestess. She was trying to reopen the sapphire gates using Zara’s blood.”

  I shook my head, tears forming in my eyes. “Are they okay?”

  “Courtney is dead,” he said. “Killed by the priestess’s daughter. Zara is in bad shape, and no one knows if she will live or die. She’s in some kind of cocoon for now.”

  “What about Jackson and Harper?”

  “Harper was taken by Priestess Evers. No one saw it happen, but there was a lot of blood.” He shook his head and sighed. “Jackson’s doing as well as can be expected. He looks for her all the time. He’s killed all the hunters he can find, talked to everyone he thinks might have information. As far as I know, he’s not any closer to finding her.”

  I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead against the bars. My family—my true family—was going through hell, and I was locked away like some dog. I should have been there to help them fight. I should be out there right now helping them bring her home.

  What torture was the priestess putting her through?

  I shuddered. Wherever Harper was, she was probably in a much worse position than I was. We had our differences, but Harper was a good person. She didn’t deserve that.

  “What news do you have for me?” I asked, hoping for even one happy thing. “How is Aerden doing?”

  Ezrah smiled briefly. “He asks the same about you every time I see him,” he said. “You seem to never be far from his thoughts, Princess.”

  “Is he still working in the quarry?”

  Ezrah nodded. “The prisoners mine sapphires every single day, and I heard the gems are being delivered to an outpost about three day’s journey from here.”

  “For what purpose?” I asked.

  “I can’t be sure,” he said. “But the Council has been meeting more often lately. They lock themselves away in the council room for hours and come out tired and angry. They’re planning something.”

  “But they can’t agree on it,” I said, pacing. “If they agreed, they wouldn’t be meeting so often. Any idea what it might be?”

  He shook his head. “It has to be something big,” he said. He glanced at the door again. He wouldn’t stay long. He never did. “All mining operations have increased in the past few months, and the builders have been working late at night to build the walls of the city even higher.”

  I grasped the bars between us. “Higher?”

  “I heard someone say their orders were to make it twice as high as it stood before.”

  “But why?”

  “The only thing I can imagine is that the Council is expecting the city to be attacked.”

  “By the Order?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Do you think a wall of any height could keep the Order out?”

  I shook my head. “If the Order wants to get inside this city, a wall isn’t going to keep them out for long. It’s madness.”

  Ezrah’s features darkened, and he glanced at the door again.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “We need to know what’s going on in those Council meetings, Princess.”

  I closed my eyes and let my face rest against the bars of my cell. We’d been through this conversation several times, and it never got any easier.

  “You don’t know what you’re asking me to do,” I said.

  “I understand how hard this is for you, but you have to think of your people,” he said. “You have to think of the Resistance. With you at the king’s side, we would have access to everything the Council discusses. We would know every move the king planned to make.”

  “It’s not in my nature to play games,” I said. “I can’t pretend to be okay with all that my father and his Council have done over the past century. I can’t go up there and play the part of the loyal daughter, Ezrah. It will destroy me.”

  “You are stronger than you think,” he said, grasping my hand. “We need this information, and you’re our best hope of obtaining it.”

  I took a deep breath to calm my beating heart.

  “They’ll ask things of me in order to prove my loyalty,” I said. “They’ll want information on the Resistance Army. The Southern Kingdom. They’ll want me to tell them everything I know about anyone who might oppose the king. What am I supposed to tell them?”

  “Whatever you must,” he said. “We are at war, Princess. And we’re losing. Every day the King’s City grows stronger and the villages of the outerlands grow weaker and more vulnerable. Soon there will be nothing left of your own people. They will all be slaves to the Order of Shadows. Do you mean to tell me that you would rather rot away in the safety of this dungeon than do what you must to save those who need you most?”

  I turned away from him, my heart aching. “Of course not,” I said.

  “Then now is the time to act,” he said. “I know it is a great sacrifice for you, but war often calls for our greatest sacrifices. You’ve seen what’s happened to the Shadow World in the years you’ve been gone. Imagine how much worse it will be if the Resistance is captured or defeated? We need your eyes and ears in those Council meetings.”

  I pushed back tears. I didn’t want to do what he asked, but he was right. This wasn’t about me or what I wanted. This was about what the people of my kingdom needed most from me, no matter the sacrifice.

  “What do you need me to do?” I asked.

  Ezrah let out a sigh of relief and leaned closer. “The servant Anastia who came to you last time is on her way down here as we speak,” he said. “Tell her what she wants to hear. Make her believe that you have been broken by this place. Make her believe that you have realized the error of your ways and will do whatever is necessary to make th
ings right with your father.”

  My knees trembled. He was asking me to betray everything I believed in and turn my back on my own fight for freedom. Even if it wasn’t real, I would have to make them believe it was real. I would have to bite my tongue at every turn and convince them that I didn’t care about the humans and demons who were currently suffering at the hands of the Order.

  “Can you do this, Princess?”

  “I have no choice, do I?” I asked.

  “You are my princess. The rightful heir to this throne,” he said. “As hard as this may be, you have a duty to the demons you are meant to lead. The question isn’t whether you have a choice, Princess. The question is whether you will choose to save yourself or to save your people. That is the only choice that matters.”

  Footsteps sounded on the stone stairs outside the dungeon. Ezrah turned and searched for a place to hide.

  “Wait,” I said softly.

  He looked at me, his eyes questioning.

  “Promise me you’ll tell him why I’ve done this,” I said, thinking of Aerden. “Tell him I’ll do everything in my power to get my father to release him.”

  “I will tell him,” he said. He started to turn away, but stopped. “I almost forgot. Last time I spoke with Aerden, he gave me a message for you. He said to tell you that the light is never as far away as it seems. Does that mean anything to you?”

  I shook my head, not quite sure what Aerden must have meant by that. What light?

  The door to the dungeon creaked open, and Ezrah slid into the shadows near one of the empty cells. Anastia appeared in the doorway. She carried the same wooden tray she’d brought last time, and I wondered if she’d actually brought water in the goblet this time, or if she meant to torture me further.

  As she approached, I swallowed what was left of my pride. I shoved my anger and my bitterness down into the depths of my heart and locked them away for another time.

  I fell to my knees, forcing tears into my eyes. If I had to play the part of the remorseful, broken princess, I was going to be so freaking good at it, they would be kissing my feet by the end of the week.