Chapter 38
J A N E
I peer around as if the walls have eyes. I inspect every painting for holes, but I see nothing, careful not to touch a single thing. Rushing to the double doors, I peer through the keyhole—it’s covered.
I don’t even hear anyone outside.
No, shit.
I near the open doors to the balcony while Jesper sleeps in his steak, leaning out to peer around. It’s so dark on this side of the castle, like it is every night when I peer out the window.
If I were up there, right now, I’d be able to see myself sneaking out. Well, perhaps not right now . The shadows are so dense… Will anyone else see me who could be watching? Go. Time is wasting.
My gut tells me that Jesper is having us meet in a very unofficial manner, which means very few eyes on us, even if he said otherwise. My gaze lands on the balcony that’s—no fucking way.
They’re connected.
Through a very narrow pathway, they’re connected in a spot I couldn’t see from high above. Moving as quickly as possible, I beat at the dress that flutters in the wind. This is why I wear pants . Creeping around the wall, I peer over, only for a moment, to see it’s a straight drop down into the ocean.
Nothing I haven’t faced before.
My lips part, the cooler air of night filling my lungs. And just as I saw earlier today, this side of the ocean is completely empty of people, the cliffs below a natural safeguard. Does that mean the sirens can escape there? Surely, it does.
If the timing is right, then maybe Tempest will come—I bet that’s what Cypress wants. My heart is beating against my ribcage as I reach the other balcony. Misery might flee after this, seeing as it’s almost time to leave, anyway. And if Tempest greets them in the open ocean…
The ocean god.
Cypress said Misery is weak to that energy.
That’s how we’ll trap him.
It has to be.
I peer out at the waters again, the waves moving with no care in the world about the dramatic humans inland.
Okay, then I need to act tonight . No doubt the minute they suspect Soren, or my father, are potentially on their way, these people will kill the sirens. Anya, too. All while I sit in a tower and feel gratitude for surviving? No.
I came here exactly for this reason.
Nearing the doors of the balcony while Jesper no doubt still sleeps in his steak, I eye the exterior handle of the balcony before turning it as quietly as possible, holding my breath as if it might somehow make it quieter, desperately hoping it isn’t locked—it opens.
I open the door as gently as possible, and then shut it so a breeze doesn’t blow inside.
There are drawn curtains on the other side, so I stand there with my back to the glass doors, creeping my fingers around the fabric that dangles in front of me, slowly moving my head so I can peek out, seeing nothing but darkness. It’s dead quiet in here, the ocean the only muffled sound.
I slide through the fabric, worried this could be someone’s private quarters and perhaps they’re sleeping. It’s so hard to see without any light, walking with my hands splayed out to touch anything I might run into. My hands graze stone, and then a wooden mantle—the hearth. I grab an iron poker for a weapon when my hands lay on one and look around once more, even if it’s basically all black.
I don’t even hear anyone breathing in here. Is it empty? Just another sitting room?
The only light I have is whatever bleeds through the bottom of a door, which, if I’m right, means exiting out of here will take me to a thinner hallway that will lead to the entrance of the dungeons, and then it’s a straight shot down.
With the heavy poker in one hand, I use my other to turn the handle of the door for what seems like an eternity so as not to make a sound, holding my breath as I hear the faintest clicking sound of the internal mechanisms.
This is just like when I was a kid and stole from the unsuspecting, or tried to sneak into places I wasn’t supposed to.
I can do this.
I literally escaped a Zenith, who admitted if he didn’t have his powers, I would have gotten away.
My resolve steadies.
When the door is able to open, I don’t let go of the knob. I’ve learned it’s easier to repeat the same process and slowly return it back to neutral.
Now, I listen.
Whatever chatter is there sounds further away rather than close by. Risking it, I cringe as I wait for a possible squeak of the hinges.
They’re clean.
When the door is open enough to squeeze my body through, I slip outside and slowly shut the door, looking around like I’m back in my childhood and about to get caught at any moment.
The hallway is still empty.
There are guards to my right, their backs to me as they chat with the others. Someone mentions something about it being odd that I’m not playing the piano.
Oh, fuck, I need to move, then.
Commit. Don’t think twice.
Leaving the door barely ajar, in case I need to sneak back in, I strut down the lonely hallway in this stupid, flowing dress—sticking the poker between my thighs, I move as fast as possible to tuck the dress into my long knickers, right at the tied waistband. I didn’t even think of this earlier because I don’t know how to wear dresses.
So much better.
Moving swiftly and quietly, once more, I’m wondering what I’m to do about my appearance; aside from this very unorthodox style, I’m not wearing any of their robes. Should I kill the first person I meet and steal theirs? My hair being braided is actually of use tonight, both for movement and because it’s not how everyone saw me when I was first brought in.
I don’t care if I leave a trail. All these people support a world of terror that goes far beyond Skull’s Row. At least in the city I was born in, there’s freedom to partake or leave.
Not under Misery’s reign, and they all support him, here.
They will catch me. But that’s not the problem. I’m giving up my freedoms, my comfort, my dignity, all of it, in the hopes that I may succeed. If I can just get them to the ocean before I’m caught, it’ll all be worth it.
Which means no holding back.
Moving quicker, I’m upon the stairwell that will take me down. I decide then and there that if I come across anyone , I’m maiming them. There’s no way to do this without leaving a trail of blood, and I need to commit to violence now .
The world blurs around me until I come across a guard on the stairwell. A split second is nearly too long as guilt claws at me, but when his gaze trails up and then down my body, anger flashing through his expression as he’s about to shout something, I stab the poker right through his throat to close off any ability to scream for help. As I pin him against the stone, he reaches for the metal rod as blood pours out like he’s a barrel of wine with a hole in it.
For Anya .
She’s counting on me, too.
Once the life is gone from him, I use my foot to push on his stomach and pull the poker out, slowing him down as he collapses and bleeds all over me.
I hurry down the remainder of the stairs, cursing myself for not grabbing one of his blades instead, but there’s no time. I nearly trip with shaky legs and come across two more , wearing black tabards with a flame sigil. Leaping down two stairs to ram the poker into one, I immediately release and catch my balance, my gaze latching on the blade at his hip as I channel everything into ensuring I grab it—light fingers—as I spin to stab him in the mouth that almost screams out.
My only advantage—and the only one I’ve ever had—is no one really expects me to attack like this. Just as Bones said, and these two seemed more ceremonial than worth their armor.
This will only work until I come across someone like Soren or Bones, who knows how to fight. Who doesn’t get lost in a wave of shock, and will know how to pin me down as they ask questions later.
I don’t even bother to be quiet as I continue to run down the stairs, leaving three bodies behind me already. “I’m coming, Melona,” I mutter.
I focus every bit of mental energy I have into my wrists, thinking of the goddess that’s supposed to give me powers, and beg inside of my mind for the keys to the cells to be hanging up on the wall, just like they were when Jesper escorted me down here. Surely a healing goddess won’t be overly fond of a God of Misery, right?
How can I use her?
I beg even more once I’m down on the level that Jesper took me to, pleading that this isn’t for me and it’s to save others. Aren’t other lives worth this stroke of luck?If this goddess can only be summoned with a blue candle, I can understand why Mom thought she was rather worthless.
I nearly shudder when I see the keys are there . No fucking way. Darting to them, I grasp them quickly and hurry along the water, everything just as it was when Jesper took me down here: dark lighting, candles everywhere, the water calm and gently flowing.
This tension between being so close to success, and yet it hasn’t happened yet, is something I’ve never enjoyed. It’s a high that was only fun when it was sneaking around, but when lives are on the line— numb it.
I focus on nothing but the next foot in front of me, keeping every eye and ear peeled. When I round the corner, my gaze affixes to the cell where I can see sirens who look weak, slumped over, or leaning against the wall. I move as swiftly as possible, trying not to fall or trip, when one of them notices me, silently waking the others.
I don’t say a word as I immediately begin trying different keys as each one clinks down against the rest when it’s not it, knowing to think of nothing other than dexterity to try as many as possible?—
Click .
The lock to the cell opens, and I swing the loud, rusty door out as wide as it can go, immediately leaning down to Melona to start the process of trying different keys again, her dark eyes wide as she pants through cracked lips, the smell of rotting scales enraging my blood. My heart races so fast I feel as if I’m in a fever dream, especially once the metal choker around her neck clicks open, Melona pulling away from the confines.
It’s as if I’ve been doused in cold water, gooseflesh rising all over.
I did it.
“Go, Jane. Leave the keys so we can unlock the rest ourselves,” Melona says through a hoarse voice, coughing as she does.
The one that has to be Moriganna leans forward. “We already know the way out. Flee .”
They start to murmur among each other in some kind of clicking, high-pitched whining sound. I watch as Melona works, rather than get moving. “There’s nowhere to flee,” I say. A part of me didn’t even expect to succeed here, and what about the keys? How can I free Anya without them? “I need to wait, so I can unlock the cell door for my friend. Can we,” I begin thinking out loud more than anything. “Can we come with you at all?”
Moriganna shakes her head. “We don’t have marrowkelp on us, or we would take you with us and into the water. It’s too cold without it; you’ll last maybe an hour, but we’d need more than that. The closest growth of it is miles away, and if you have to remain above water, they could always spot us before we get you safely on a shore.” Moriganna coughs through a dry voice.
“I’m willing to risk it,” I press.
Melona glances at me. “Jane, it would kill you. This time of year, humans can last about one or two hours in the water. It will take an hour alone just to swim around the peninsula. There’s a great chance you won’t make it to shore, and even then, you’d need to be rewarmed immediately.” She presses her dried lips together, motioning where I came from. “Another guard is down the opposite way. He always carries keys when checking in on us. They’re different looking than this set. We will need these as there are iron bars at the end of these tunnels. It’ll be faster to steal the others.”
“What about if guards come upon you?”
“We can use the sunder if necessary.”
“Why didn't you use that already?” I ask so fast the words nearly blur.
Moriganna leans forward as Melona works on her chains. “That is how one of us has been killed, already,” the siren princess answers. “It won’t matter if we can actually escape.”
The tension in these confines is haunting, and I swear their beautiful, elegant features nearly turn monstrous.Oh, they want revenge. A lot of it.
Without questioning anything else, I rush back down the pathway, the sirens being extra quiet as they slowly work to free themselves.
“She’s got to be here, somewhere,” I mutter, darting my gaze around until I find what looks like traditional prison cells, barely taking in any details, moving my way down there, rounding a corner and—shit.
I make eye contact with a guard whose nose is so crooked, it’s definitely been broken more than once, his dirty hand holding a battle ax like he’s surprised to see me. He seems more prepared to fight than the others, but he doesn’t have nearly the same amount of armor.
Quick, what?—
Grabbing a torch on the wall, I ream it at him as he raises his ax. Imagine this is sparring .
I press the torch right into his chest, ducking low when I see his footwork steps toward me, weapon raised, which swings right over my head, just barely. He screams from pain as the fire effortlessly burns his clothes, and I pad around his hard, ale-laden waist until I’ve got a hold of another hilt, unsheathing it as he pushes me off of him, dropping his ax with a loud clink .
I stab him in the gut, then right in the jugular to make it quick, and to keep him quiet. This is for you, Anya.
Panting heavily as my arm feels entirely funny—almost like I can’t even use it—I notice there’s a nasty gash right in the shoulder, blood spilling down, and reach around so I can heal it as I make my way to Anya’s cell—the keys!
Damn.
I return to the guard’s body, the smell of burning flesh something I did not consider beforehand as he continues to cook —he’s got a smaller rung, but there are a few keys. I hold the cold iron ring with the useless hand, finding it easier to fade into an emotionless state with the shock of his wound to my system, my blood pounding in my ears.
“ Jane ,” Anya mutters somewhere in the darkness of one of the cells, her voice full of fear. There’s a clinking of metal on the stone floor, like the sound of chains.
“I freed the sirens,” I spit out, panting, blood dripping down my hand as I hurry to her cell.
“ Nothing about this is stealthy,” Anya says, appearing in the faint light of the torches in here, her bloodied eyes glistening.
Seeing her utterly beaten makes me sneer, any guilt for what I just did vanishing . “There wasn’t an option for stealth,” I say, the lock finally clicking open as I enter her cell, the iron bars creaking. I immediately move to the shackles at her ankle; it works, the heavy weight of it hitting the floor as she’s freed. “Go. They can’t kill me. They need me alive and submissive. I’ll survive until someone gets here. Cypress just wanted me to free the sirens, that’s all. So that’s what I’m doing. I knocked Jesper out in a private room like I did with Soren, so we have time.”
A part of my heart, somewhere, had clearly hoped Anya would come up with a miraculous plan and take me with her. Instead, Anya’s skin begins to change, bruises disappearing along with everything else as she takes on the appearance of a woman with brown hair that I don’t recognize. I observe the process, accepting that as soon as she disappears, I’ll be alone.
It’s more bittersweet than I thought.
“Get to the ocean, Jane,” Anya says.
“I can’t,” I pant. “The sirens won’t take me. They don’t have marrowkelp, so I’d probably freeze to death before they can acquire any or get me to the right shoreline. There’s no way we can both escape here, but you can, with your skills.”
“You shouldn’t have come for me,” Anya warns, the foreign face covered in grime even if the marring of her body is hidden.
“And leave you to rot?”
“I didn’t anticipate I’d survive here, Jane. I came so Soren could follow our trail, and confirm we’re here. And—well, I overheard your entire conversation with Cypress, Jane. I know Soren can’t feel you, or Misery. Cypress came to me right after she left you and told me to follow. That… that I’d get my freedom. That it would help. That I wasn’t to leave your side, and that my willingness to die here would help save the rest, while I’d get to finally let go of my pain. Plus, I can’t leave you, because of Soren’s mask—” The old, shrewd expression returns to her. “Yes, wait. I have a plan. I have a piece of Soren’s mask in my arm, which I can put into you, so maybe he can track you . I need you to help get it out of me and into your skin. After this, it will be worthless in my corpse.”
“ Anya, ” I say, as if I can snap her out of whatever she’s insinuating.
Her eyes harden. “Jane, please . I am aware of what I got into. Death doesn’t frighten me. But dying without a purpose does .” She sighs, the sound almost making me smile as it’s so like her . “Think of it this way, if you’re the priority, then it makes sense to give it to you. Since you can heal us, it should be quick.”
“Then why in the hell did Cypress just not do that ? Why couldn’t I use Soren’s help at all?” It’s a rather pointless question, but it spills out nonetheless.
Pale, brown eyes stare sternly at me. “Jane, I think Soren getting involved would have made things worse. It would have risked him too greatly to get so involved, and I actually think Cypress intends for Soren to live. And I think my death, for whatever reason, ensures everyone acts in a way that ensures this.”
Those words shine sunlight on a shadowed part of my heart I didn’t realize was starving for the light. Cypress wants Soren alive?
The light, airy sensation that the witch isn’t working against us darkens once more. “Cypress is letting you sacrifice yourself.”
“It’s not like I didn’t agree to it.”
The pendant, the one around my neck . It’s why it was a death note.
Anya takes the dagger from where I dropped it and digs into her forearm, grunting and grimacing as she flicks something out. “Shit. We can’t lose that—” She places the blade down. “Fuck, I didn’t even think about it disappearing if it’s not in me anymore. It’s a part of Soren… maybe only he could remove it.”
We both search in the dark, hands on the floor, and I present her a few pebbles, clicking my tongue when I realize they’re not the mask. “What does it feel like?”
“You’ll feel the magic—it’s here . She faces me, the torchlight barely enough to see each other. “Where do you want it?”
I peer out the door. “Should we get out of here first?”
“Nobody comes down here. Not with the sirens. Only that guard was here and would periodically check, but he’s deaf.”
It’s the perfect opening.
“Forearm works,” I say, not wanting to waste this opportunity. “Just do it.”
I bite down on my knuckles as she slices me open, shoving the piece of Soren’s mask into my skin, and then the blue light of my palms emits in the darkness as I heal it in.
Soren .
“I don’t get anything from this,” I say, partially disappointed.“I can’t feel him at all.”
“Could be your ruby. It might still work. Let’s go. I’ll stay with you,” she pants out, my mind tunneling as so many details are useless in the shadow of survival. I heal her arm as we step out, the body of that guard mostly burned at the shirt and chest.
“Anya, could you live if you left me? As in, now that everything is set into motion… You might as well try to run.”
She peers down both ways. “Cypress said to stay with you as long as I could. I could try taking on your skin, maybe run as far as I can while they chase me…” Her eyes are more apologetic than I’ve seen them. “I won’t get far, though. I’ve barely eaten in a week. No… I should remain, like the witch wanted.”
This is really fucking hard knowing someone is likely to die, and I can’t change it. As if I know what’s best for her. She’s making this choice on her own. Somehow, I have to respect that.
“Okay, well, let’s go right then? Maybe we can exit through the other end.”
It’s a heart-racing chase through the tunnels as we go down a path neither of us has been, Anya limping at times. When we pass by what looks like water, she drinks until her belly is full. We then come across a wooden door, which is unlocked.
“This place isn’t well secured,” I mumble.
“Ashfire doesn’t come under attack often, if ever,” she whispers. “I bet after this, they’ll change that.”
We move through to what looks like a storage room, and there’s even the smell of food. Anya faces me. “We both need new clothes. You look ridiculous. We can capture two people, tie them up. Take their stuff.”
It takes a moment for me to chuckle when I realize what she just said, and as I look around the place, I realize this might be the storage area for the kitchen with labeled boxes, bags of rice and flour, and stacks of eggs. I recognize an open box of tea leaves, spelling just like the ones used on me. “If we can stew these, even in lukewarm water, it will make them dreary for hours.”
“Okay, let’s find some cups.”
We’re like two mice back here, rummaging around until we find things we want. Every now and again, we can hear orders being barked somewhere down the hall, mixing with the sound of kitchen prep work.
As we strain the leaves in with the tea through a cloth, little droplets the only sound between us, Anya lifts her gaze to look at me. “This is Amy’s face, by the way.” Her voice wavers, but only for a moment, that deep expression of emotion breaking through like a soul trying to leave a body. “I don’t want to talk about it more. I just… it comforts me, and I wanted you to know.”
“Uh, yeah. Thanks for telling me,” I say, staring at her more than usual now. It’s odd to think that this face was once someone that was to Anya what Soren is to me, and I’m sort of meeting this dead stranger. Anya keeps an eye out while I hide and strain; she’s better at espionage than I am. I brew what I can, hoping some of the components seep out. When the water is dark, I figure it’s good enough, placing the wet cloth full of moist tea leaves on the floor.
“How long do we have, with Jesper?” Anya asks. “Might be a while before we come across anyone since it’s night, and I don’t know who is down here. Might be worth moving forward.”
“He wanted dinner with me—I know, it was awkward as shit—and I attacked him rather quickly. He’ll be out for a few hours, but someone might check on the room before then.”
Her eyes appraise me. “That was smart, Jane.”
“I got the idea from you, and the time you wore the skin of that man’s mistress,” I reply, my smile almost painful as it feels conditional. Like at any point, she’ll be wiped away.
Anya’s eyes flush with gratitude, like her dying words really meant something, before she hushes me, and the voices of two women start to near us.
“You should apply to mornings, Bev.”
Another one yawns. “I know, I know. I hate night shifts with baking .”
“I’ve been up since the sun was down. Jesper had us make a giant meal.”
“For who ?”
The two women round a corner wearing black robes; one is older, and one probably younger than me.
Perfect. Those clothes will fit.
Anya and I both attack, placing our hands over their mouths with kitchen blades at their throats. “You can squeal, and we’ll cut you. Or drink that tea, and you’ll wake up alive,” Anya says.
They both nod feverishly as we guide them to the tea, the women bringing the cups to their mouths as we remove our hands, both looking at each other like it might be worth— “Don’t make this bloody,” I warn, my blade still at her throat.
They both drink the tea, the effects happening so swiftly I hope I didn’t make it too strong. There’s something about killing someone who also has a weapon in hand, but it’s a harder concept when it’s two people who look innocent.
As they slump to the floor, Anya and I quickly disrobe them and change ourselves.
“You should know, Jane,” Anya says, her words muffled when she puts her head through an underdress. “I’m severely weakened right now.” Her gaze connects with mine, a slight desperation in there. “I’m stealthy, not a warrior. If you need to run, you run . I beg you to.”
“Let’s just go,” I say, her words hitting my mind but none of them sinking in. I can’t consider that right now. I couldn’t even let Kathleen run into a fire without following, even when I thought that me getting caught would risk thousands.
We’re slow and cautious as we move forward, working with hand signals and pausing frequently. Especially once upon the kitchen, which is staffed with a minimal number of people for prep work.
At some point, we actually make it past, having no idea where we’re going, and then there are stairs .
Up.
A way out.
“How violent are we committing to be?” I ask. “I don’t like stabbing people that don’t look like they deserve it. I might freeze.”
Anya looks back at me, her gaze moving all over this dark staircase. “I don’t know.” She shrugs, facing ahead. “If it was Soren, they’d all be spiked on the walls without a second thought… and since my job is to get you out, I’ll do whatever that takes.”
I breathe calmly, knowing it’s my resolve that’s needed now. Okay, I’ll just do what feels right in the moment. Personal desires aside, Misery cannot have me.I have to really try .
Mom didn’t get a choice whether she wanted to be involved or not.
When we open a service door at the top of the stairs, we’re greeted by the livid, dark eyes ofJesper.