Chapter 28
CHAPTER 28
LARA
A s I make my way to Ivrael’s study, my mind races with the possibilities of what I’ve discovered in the maze. The way the darkness shattered when I screamed, how the light broke through—it has to mean something.
Something about my supposed heritage, maybe, or about whatever power Ivrael thinks I have.
Now, as I approach Ivrael’s study, voices drift through the partially open door. I freeze, my heart stuttering in my chest as I recognize Lord Vazor’s distinctive rumble.
“—several hunters arrived on Trasq two days ago,” he says. “They’re searching for descendants of your King Caix here, too.”
I press myself against the wall beside the door, hardly daring to breathe. It’s ice-cold against my back, even through the layers of my court dress.
“And you think they know about the Evans sisters?” Ivrael’s voice carries that edge I’ve learned means he’s barely containing his rage.
“They suspect someone with royal blood was tracked leaving Earth.” A pause, then he adds, “They’re fairly certain she has powers beginning to manifest.”
“They won’t find them.” Ivrael’s tone drops another ten degrees. “I won’t allow it.”
“You can’t stop them from searching. They answer directly to?—”
“I said they won’t find them.” The temperature in the hallway plummets, and frost crackles across the floor beneath my feet. “The sisters are under my protection.”
Protection. Right.
Like being kept as a servant for a year was protection. Like being bound with magical ribbons is protection.
And yet...
The memory of Ivrael’s hands gentle on my face rises unbidden. I shove it down, but not before my cheeks flush with heat.
“The hunters won’t care about your claim of protection,” Vazor says. “They’ll take the girls by force if necessary.”
“They can try.”
Heavy footsteps approach the door, and I dart into the room where I hid the night of the ball—the night I overheard them plotting the firelord attack.
My stomach churns at the memory of flames, of screaming, of Oriana burning...
I peek out into the hall as Lord Vazor strides past, his golden scales catching the light from the Caixlights overhead. I hold my breath until he disappears around the corner, then slump against the doorjamb.
Hunters. Coming for me and Izzy.
Because of our bloodline—the same bloodline Ivrael keeps hinting at but never fully explaining.
I should go find my sister. Should warn her.
And then we should run as far and fast as we can.
My heart still pounds from overhearing Ivrael and Vazor as I slip out into the hallway. Izzy will be in our suite by now—safer there than out in the open where hunters might find her.
I should head that way, too.
Instead, I find myself moving toward the study door. My fingertips brush the ornate handle, the chilly metal sending shivers up my arm.
I need to tell him about the maze, about how I shattered the darkness. Need to understand what’s happening to me, what these powers mean.
But the memory of Vazor’s words stops me cold.
They suspect someone with royal blood was tracked leaving Earth. They’re fairly certain she has powers beginning to manifest.
My hand falls away from the door.
No. I can’t trust Ivrael. Not with this. Not when I still don’t know his true plans for us.
I have to get back to Izzy. Have to tell her about the hunters.
Have to figure out how to escape before they find us. I turn and hurry back the way I came.
But then a floorboard creaks behind me as I head toward the main staircase.
I freeze, every muscle going taut. Another sound—footsteps, maybe?—echoes from further down the corridor.
They answer directly to —Vazor had said, before Ivrael cut him off. Who are these hunters? And who sent them?
More footsteps, closer now. The sound of voices murmuring, too low to make out words but definitely not the familiar tones of Ivrael’s servants.
My pulse pounds in my ears as I press myself against the wall, trying to breathe silently through my mouth. The voices are coming from the direction of the stairway.
Izzy.
Oh God. What if they’ve already found her?
But no—she’s still with the twins. Has to be.
Which means I need to stay away from our rooms, lead any pursuit away from where she might be.
I ease back toward the door that leads to the hidden servants’ staircase, wincing at every whisper of silk against stone. The voices grow louder, and now I catch fragments of words in a language I don’t recognize—harder and sharper than the Caix tongue Ivrael sometimes uses.
My fingers find the door handle, ice-cold against my palm. I turn it slowly, terrified the mechanism will squeal and give me away.
It opens silently—thank God for Caix precision—and I slip down the back servants’ stairs.
I spent a year in Starfrost Manor, learning to move through it silently. No intruders could possibly find their way around as well as I can.
But I have to stay away from the kitchen, too, or risk putting Adefina and Kila in danger.
I make it all the way to the bottom of the stairs and move outside.
The midnight air hits my face like a slap, and I have to bite back a gasp at the shock of cold.
Where can I go? The stables are too far. The kitchen entrance will be locked at this hour. And the gardens offer no real cover.
A shadow moves at the corner of my vision. Then another.
I slip away, moving from one dark patch to another, hoping they can’t see me.
They’re between me and the manor now. At least three dark figures, moving with predatory grace across the snow.
My breath catches in my throat as one of them turns toward me. Even at this distance, I can see their eyes gleam with an unnatural light.
Run.
I bolt for the maze entrance, my shoes slipping on the icy ground. Behind me, someone shouts, and I hear the crunch of boots pursuing.
The maze looms before me. I don’t slow down, just plunge into it, hit the first turn, then the next, letting my feet carry me deeper into the labyrinth.
I follow my instincts, trying to keep track of the directions I go.
Left, left, left again. Then right. The walls blur past as I run, my heart threatening to burst from my chest. I can’t hear pursuit anymore, but that means nothing. These hunters have tracked us across worlds—they won’t be stopped by a simple ice maze.
I take another turn and skid to a halt.
Dead end.
No. No no no.
I spin around, ready to retrace my steps, but freeze at the sound of voices. They echo oddly off the ice walls, impossible to tell which direction they’re coming from.
“...somewhere in here...”
“...blood calls to blood...”
“...can’t hide forever...”
The whispered words drift to me in fragments. My skin crawls at the sound.
I press myself into an alcove, trying to make myself as small as possible. The ice is so cold it burns against my back, but I don’t dare move.
The voices continue their taunting whispers, growing neither louder nor softer, as if they’re everywhere and nowhere at once.
Like the wolves in the forest. Like the darkness that I shattered.
But this time, I don’t think screaming will save me. It might just tell them exactly where to find me.
The only thing to do is lead them on a chase through the maze.
My feet slip on the icy ground as I push away from the wall, abandoning my hiding place. Now the voices do grow louder, then softer—but it’s still impossible to tell if I’m moving toward or away from the hunters.
Backtrack to the last turn. Left turn. Right turn. Another right.
My breath burns in my lungs, clouds of vapor trailing behind me like breadcrumbs in the frigid air. Will they be able to track that? Track me by the heat of my body against the ice, by the fog of my breath, by whatever magic lets them sense royal blood?
A whisper slides past my ear: “We can smell your fear...”
I bite back a scream and run faster, my shoes slipping on the glassy floor. The silk of my court dress tangles around my legs with every step. Stupid, impractical clothing.
A year of wearing my own clothes, and now when I need to run, I’m wrapped in layers of delicate fabric that could get me killed.
Another turning brings me to a familiar spot—the same one where we fought the ice monster? No. Different patterns in the walls.
“Your blood sings to us...”
The voice comes from the passage to my left. I dart right, then immediately left again, trying to be unpredictable. My legs burn with effort, unused to running in these heeled dancing slippers. But I can’t slow down. Can’t let them catch me.
Can’t let them find Izzy.
The thought of my sister sends fresh energy surging through my limbs. I push harder, faster, ignoring the stitch developing in my side. The maze walls blur past, endless corridors of ice stretching in every direction.
Something moves in my peripheral vision—a shadow, darker than the rest. I change direction without thinking, skidding around a corner so fast my shoulder slams into the wall. Pain explodes through my arm, but I keep running.
I hit a circular chamber with an arrangement of archways leading out—then another. How many of these chambers are there? Or have I turned around?
The ice is everywhere now, closing in. The walls seem to pulse with an inner light, creating weird shadows that dance and twist. Or are those real shadows moving behind me?
I take another turning at random, then another. My breath comes in harsh gasps that tear at my throat. The cold air burns my lungs with every inhale.
The maze shifts around me—or maybe that’s just my vision blurring. Everything looks the same. Endless ice. Endless corridors. Endless choices, each one potentially leading to capture. To death.
To whatever fate these hunters have planned for girls with royal blood.
Another whisper, this one almost close enough to feel against my skin: “The king’s blood flows in your veins...”
I stumble, my ankle turning in the ridiculous court shoes. My hand shoots out to catch myself against the wall. The ice burns against my palm, so cold it feels like fire.
Keep moving. Have to keep moving.
But which way? Every path looks identical.
A shadow definitely moves behind me now. I run blindly, no longer trying to track my path or maintain any sense of direction. Just running, running, running...
The voices are all around me now, a chorus of harsh whispers that make my skin crawl:
“Blood calls to blood...”
“The throne demands sacrifice...”
“Your power belongs to us...”
And I don’t even know if the voices are real, or if they’re like the ones in the darkness earlier, just taking my own fears and reflecting them back at me.
My legs shake with exhaustion. I can’t keep this pace much longer. Can’t keep running forever.
Ice shatters somewhere behind me—they’re breaking through walls, trying to catch up.
I run faster.
Left turn. Right turn. Another left.
The walls blur past, and I’m so focused on what’s behind me that I don’t see what’s ahead until it’s too late.
I slam into a hard body, and hands come out to grab my shoulders.
With a scream, I try to wrench away.
But then I hear Ivrael say, “What is it?”
Finally looking up, I realize he’s the one holding me—and with a grateful sob, I collapse against his muscular chest.