Chapter 32
Chapter thirty-two
Unmasked
Istood at one end of the room, near the chutes. Verrin had taken a step back, blocking the door.
“The thing I don’t understand,” I said, working hard to keep my voice calm, “is why this elaborate ruse? Why did you need me? If you wanted the Emberbane, why didn’t you just take it yourself?”
“You really don’t know?” Verrin scoffed, no longer hiding the contempt in his voice.
“Only someone with Veilsense could see the shimmering of the vials. The other vials are all coated in poison. Even touching one would have meant instant death. I’ve heard the rumors about you.
It was a risk, but those rumors turned out to be true. ”
It all made sense. Verrin wasn’t working for the Crown any more than he was working for the Order—he was a ruthless free agent, doing only what served him personally.
I cursed myself for not trusting my instincts. I knew I couldn’t rely on any contact that Kael supplied. Something had seemed off about Verrin from the moment I saw him. And yet I had walked right into his trap.
But I still had moves to make.
I pulled the Emberbane out of my belt, careful not to reveal the smoke vial in my other palm. As I did, I took a step back until I stood on the edge of the chute, holding the Emberbane at arm’s length over it.
“You want the Emberbane?” I said. “Come and get it.”
“The vial is of no use to you,” Verrin said. “As we speak, Tarnasau’s army is purging the Underworld and the Order of Emberlight with it. There won’t be anyone left to give it to.”
This must have been a bluff, some desperate attempt to convince me that hope was lost. It would take thousands of soldiers to invade the entire Underworld, and the Order would put up one hell of a fight.
“You expect me to believe that?” I snapped back.
“Why do you think I picked tonight for you to infiltrate Pyrehold? They’re preparing for war in here. With all the chaos, nobody’s going to miss one vial and one prisoner.”
I refused to let him rattle me, keeping my voice level and smooth. “Well, you’ll have to kill me to get it.”
Verrin shook his head. “You truly are na?ve, aren’t you? I win either way. My preference is for you to hand over the Emberbane. I might even consider letting you live. But I guess I can just kill you instead.”
“What good would that do you?” I asked. “I’ll be dead, and the vial will be lost.”
Verrin’s mouth contorted into a cruel smile. “I could make a fortune with the Emberbane on the black market, which was my original plan. But given the price The Butcher has put on your head, I’ll still make a tidy sum just by killing you.”
Anger mixed with shock ripped through me like wildfire.
Even the mention of The Butcher made my blood run hot.
But a price on my head? Pieces were dropping into place in my mind: the encounter with The Butcher at the market; the way Tarnasau coveted Veilsense; the huge Royal Guard presence at our humble barn; Garrick’s warnings about rumors.
I had ignored it all, but it seemed I was part of something bigger than I could imagine.
Verrin’s smile got even wider. “Oh, and consider this: If you die, there’ll be nobody to protect your little wench of a sister. The price on her head is even more. Between the two of you, I’ll make out fine, assuming the spies in the Order haven’t already cashed in on her.”
Blood pounded in my ears, and my vision tunneled until all I could see was this disgusting excuse for a man.
Nobody—nobody—threatened Elena.
I was done talking.
With a quick toss, I hurled the smoke vial in Verrin’s direction. It exploded in a massive cloud, obscuring the entire room. At the same time, I hopped to the side. A crossbow bolt flew past, clanging off the stone wall behind me.
I pulled my dagger and threw it in Verrin’s direction. A yelp of pain mixed with surprise filtered through the billowing smoke.
Verrin’s hulking shape appeared through the clouds with my blood-soaked dagger in one hand and his crossbow in the other.
He swung the blade, which I easily avoided.
But as he tumbled to the ground, there was a sudden blunt pain in the side of my head as the butt of his crossbow smacked into my skull.
I landed hard on the stone, stars swimming at the edges of my vision.
The impact made me drop the vial of Emberbane.
We froze as it clattered along the stone floor, both of us waiting for the sickening sound of cracked glass and the subsequent explosion that would reduce us to ash. Instead the vial settled on the ground and rolled directly toward the chute.
Verrin scampered toward it on hands and knees. He scooped it up with a triumphant smile.
With all my might, I kicked Verrin in the rear. He and the vial tumbled into the chute.
“Don’t fuck with my family!” I shouted, though I doubt he heard me over the sound of his own scream. It echoed off the walls before a massive explosion silenced him forever.
It wasn’t so much a sound as a force when the shock wave of the explosion rushed toward me.
I dropped to the ground, covering myself with the alchemist’s robes as a firestorm flew up the chute and raged above me.
I might have burned to a crisp but for the Salamander wool that alchemists’ robes were made of, known for their fire-resistance.
But the heat was still fierce. The moment the flames disappeared, I wriggled out of the smoldering robes.
The burning room was drenched in the sickeningly sweet smell of searing flesh, the air scorching hot against my skin. I raced out of the room before I also became fuel for the fire.
My mind reeled. If the Order was filled with spies, as Verrin claimed, then Elena was in immediate danger. I could rush to the inactive body chute and escape, but then this entire mission would be for naught, and that would also mean leaving Darion behind. I simply couldn’t do that.
I knew what I had to do.
The corridors were deserted, which was surprising, since a massive explosion had just rocked the prison. But I still paused at every intersection to listen for footsteps.
My first stop was the alchemy lab, where other vials of Emberbane sat waiting. Thankfully, the labs were empty. In moments, I was headed toward Darion with two Emberbane vials tucked neatly into my belt. Only a few flights of stairs separated us.
I was nearing the staircase when I heard a rhythmic pounding ahead of me like the beat of a drum, soft at first but quickly building into what sounded like dozens of boots marching in unison, headed my way.
I ran to the first door I found: locked. In seconds, the tumblers clicked into place under the guidance of my picks.
I ducked into the room and waited. The marching continued. Relentless. Rhythmic. Unending.
When the sound of the boots passed, I risked a peek out the door.
Down the hall, shoulder to shoulder in two rows, robed and masked figures marched with mechanical precision.
Their uniforms were similar to those of the Sentinels but different enough that these people would not be mistaken for them.
Each had a sword sheathed at their side.
These were Sentinel soldiers.
Verrin hadn’t lied.
This was an army.
But as horrible as it was, it was nothing compared to what I saw when I turned into the room.
Hundreds of people were bound to wooden racks, naked, their eyes open but unfocused, their faces twisted into grotesque silent screams. Tubes ran in and out of them, carrying amber liquid shimmering with the glow of Ember. The racks continued deep into the room, as far as I could see.
My stomach lurched at the horror before me.
These people were Emberborn.
These were my people.
Enslaved.
I had to get out of there as fast as I could.
The only choice was to rescue Darion and get back to the Order, then escape with Elena and hope Darion would join us.
The city wasn’t safe anymore, not with Tarnasau building an army and spies in our midst. I would warn the Order, tell them about the prisoners here, and drop off the Emberbane, but we needed to leave as soon as that was done.
I dashed down the stairs as fast as stealth would allow, following the map in my mind. Soon I reached the entrance to the cells, which was unguarded. Luck was finally on my side.
The hallway I entered resembled a dungeon, with stone walls and a dirt floor. A long row of cells stretched along one side. The occasional flickering torch provided dim light, but there were plenty of shadows to hide in.
I made my way down the corridor, peeking into each cell. I recognized some of the prisoners from the transport, so I had made it to the correct place. But no Darion yet.
Finally, I reached a cell, and I knew before I even saw his face—it was Darion.
He was sitting on the ground with his back to the wall, an arm draped over one bent knee.
His eyelids drooped, a sign that the fatigue from using his Ember was starting to take hold. I’d have to get him out of here soon.
But there was something else—his face was bruised. Had the guards done that? White-hot anger flew through me, and all I wanted was to comfort him.
I was about to call his name when a clatter of footsteps came down the hallway. I let out a silent curse and ducked into the shadows.
I sized up the approaching group. There were four Royal Guards led by a man—a man in burgundy robes over chain mail.
It couldn’t be.
But it was.
Orlik Leonom.
He wore a ring on his finger that seemed to be shimmering. Something about it felt wrong. There was a presence to it, something unseen. Like the Emberbane, Ember seemed to seep from it.
Orlik walked right past me and stopped at Darion’s cell—my literal worst nightmare. My hands shook.
But this was also an opportunity. Five against one would be a stretch, but with a smoke vial, the element of surprise, and a lot of luck, I could have my vengeance and rescue Darion all in one go.
I drew a smoke vial from my belt.
This was it. No more waiting.
“Darion!” Orlik exclaimed. “I couldn’t believe it when they said you were down here.”
Something was terribly off. Orlik’s tone was…jovial?
“Hello, Father. Yes, there seems to have been a mix-up.”
Father? I must have heard that wrong.
“Look at that face. Caught up in a bar fight, I heard,” Orlik laughed. He laughed. “Come along, son. I’m sure that’s quite a story.”
Son?
My head spun. Suddenly I was watching the scene unfold at the end of a long tunnel. My entire body went cold.
I couldn’t have heard what I thought I just heard.
I barely registered what was happening. I was only vaguely aware of the guards opening the cell and Darion simply walking out, right up to Orlik. Like they were family.
But just as Darion passed, his eyes locked with mine. No one could possibly see me in the shadows, but somehow he did. His eyes widened with panic for only an instant, and then his expression smoothed over as if nothing had happened.
Orlik and Darion walked side by side down the corridor.
Then Orlik paused.
He tilted his head.
He started to turn in my direction. Like he sensed me.
“You think my face is bad?” Darion said. “You should see the other guy.”
Orlik turned back toward Darion and barked out a laugh. “I knew all that combat training I paid for would come in handy, but not like this.”
And with that, they continued down the corridor and out the door.
And I was alone.
I’d never been so alone as I was at that moment.
I was frozen in place.
And then I collapsed to the ground.
I couldn’t breathe.
I started gasping for air. My lungs deflated.
A wave of panic flooded me. I was suffocating, like that night on the River of Souls.
Only that night, a warmth had saved me—a warmth I now realized had been created by Darion and his Ember.
He had protected me. He had saved me. Tonight was the exact opposite.
Just when I thought I would black out, I finally managed to take a large gasp of air. I coughed, choking on my own spit. I pounded my fist against the floor.
How was it possible?
The Butcher was Darion’s father.
My heart shattered.