Chapter 7 Meryn
MERYN
Who will Saela be now? The feral creature that ripped out Helene’s throat or the girl I know? The girl I’ve always known.
When I arrive at the dungeons, Leader Aldrich is already waiting. His wolf, Daphne, was the one who alerted Anassa. After the scene in the arena yesterday, Aldrich grabbed some of the historical texts he had about Siphons and came back down to the dungeons to observe Saela.
It seems he never left.
“She’s awake,” I say when I reach him. He knows it isn’t a question and doesn’t respond.
I approach her cell carefully. I’m not afraid she’ll hurt me, though maybe I should be. Certainly the sight of her, inhuman and strange, will.
Saela’s curled up on the small cot inside, her knees pulled tight to her chest, arms wrapped around them like she’s trying to make herself small enough to disappear.
My breath catches tightly in my throat. She won’t be comforted if I gasp at her appearance. But…
She looks so tiny and frail, but there’s still blood and gore staining her clothes and skin, matted in her dark hair. And her eyes are big and filled with tears, but the points of her fangs peek out and hide again when she sees me.
She’s sweet, and she’s sharp.
My world tilts a bit, and I fight to stay standing on both feet.
The future I imagined, that I fought so hard for—it’s gone. Snatched away from us, returned warped and distorted. Like ink that had water dropped onto it, spreading out and away until it’s nearly unrecognizable.
But her sobs sound the exact same, and that snaps me out of my stupor. Right now, that’s all that matters to me. She’s different, but it’s still my sister in that cell.
“Meryn,” she cries, her voice splintering.
“Let me in,” I say in a rush, pressing my body to the bars. When I look at Aldrich, who has the keys, his jaw is set.
“I don’t know that it’s a good idea to—”
“Let me in now!” I snap.
His lips press into a thin line beneath his beard, and he shakes his head. Still, he slides the key into the lock.
“Sae,” I choke out. “I’m sorry. I wanted to come sooner, but I—”
My sister throws up her bloody hands before I can reach her. “Stop! Stop.” She’s begging through her tears. “He’s right. You shouldn’t be near m-me. I’m evil.”
She’s trembling violently. Her fangs appear, disappear.
I shake my head and try to go to her, but she falls backward and scrambles to the back of the cot.
“You n-need to kill me, Meryn,” she says, and tears spring to my eyes. “P-please.”
She’s serious, and her words dig deeper into my gut than I ever thought possible, breaking some hidden piece of me that was somehow still whole.
“I’m dangerous. I bit that woman!” She’s breathing all wrong. She’s pale and twitching so hard that her skull smacks the stone wall. “D-did I kill her? Did I kill her?!”
I move more slowly toward her now, so afraid of startling her or making her worse. Something unfamiliar and painful courses through me, as if invisible hands are slowly pulling me apart in a thousand directions and I can’t do anything to stop them.
It’s fear, I realize—true fear, the likes of which I’ve never felt until this moment, with my sister dangling on the edge. A threat to her from the outside? Fine, I will figure it out.
But this, this—
She’s so fragile, and she’s serious. She wants to die; I can see it in the tilt of her mouth. More than that—she expects me to help her. It’s a fight to keep breathing, but I can’t let her see that.
And if I make one wrong move, those invisible hands will rip us both to shreds.
“Helene is fine, Saela.” My words are urgent but gentle. Maybe if I speak carefully to her, I can coax her into some calm, walk us both away from this treacherous breaking point. “She was healed by her wolf. No one is hurt.”
Saela doesn’t seem to hear me when I tell her she hasn’t harmed anyone. Perhaps the guilt is too powerful. I sit down slowly next to her, and she doesn’t dart away.
“Kill me.” She’s pleading with her eyes, and my heart shatters again at the words. “I need to go. I shouldn’t b-be…”
“Please,” I whisper. My voice is lost beneath her wails.
“I would rather die than be this!” Saela sobs. “Our enemy. Your enemy.”
And the horrible thing is, I understand it. It’s all we know: that the Siphons are evil. They killed our father. But if Killian and Cyril and all the kings before them could live undetected as Siphons for centuries, there must be a way for her to live safely among us.
I won’t let death come for her. We will find a way to reverse this, and until then, I’ll do what I’ve always done: protect her.
I seize her thin arm. Her eyes widen.
“Absolutely not, Saela,” I scold, my voice hard and stern. She needs to know with full confidence that I’m not going to let anything happen to her.
For the first time, she quiets as we fall back into our roles. Me, the older sister who takes care of her. Saela, the younger child who knows me as her only trustworthy authority figure.
“We will find a way to fix this. Together,” I tell her. I gesture back to Aldrich. “This is Leader Aldrich. He’s the smartest person in the castle, and he’s helping me find out everything there is to know about Siphons. You can trust him, too.”
Saela glances over my shoulder at him and then ducks her head, nodding shyly. Then she huffs a weak breath. Another tear streaks through the blood on her cheek. And she crumbles. Saela falls into my arms.
Relief floods me. I pull her close and wrap her up. I tug her halfway into my lap, rocking, kissing her hair.
She cries in my arms. This time, it isn’t manic and terrified. It’s softer. It’s the sound of a girl asking for comfort. I give it to her, stroking her hair, whispering to her that I love her. I’d love her no matter what.
My pocket is heavy, and I remember—our mother’s opal necklace. It caught my eye on my way out of my chambers, and it felt right to bring it down here. Fishing it out, I unhook the necklace and clasp it around Saela’s small neck.
My weariness seems to press in on me a little more once I give the necklace over. Interesting… perhaps it was surging my power, as the crown does? The opals look so similar. I file that away for thought.
The jewel glints against Saela’s chest, its rainbow colors dimmed in the darkness of the dungeons. Still, it’s warm against my hand as I press my palm against it.
“This was Mother’s,” I tell her quietly. “It was passed down through the women in our family all the way from Queen Chiara. She said it was for protection. She’d be happy to know that it was protecting you now.”
Saela nods, her fingers going to the jewel. “Thank you. It’s like keeping a part of her with me.”
I grab her other hand. “Sae, how did this happen?”
“I don’t remember.” She sniffs and clutches me tightly. “I was in the dungeons, and then Stark and Venna rescued me. Something must have happened but…” She shakes her head. “When I try to think about it, it’s just blackness.”
I look back to Aldrich. “I’ve heard of some level of mental manipulation, but can Siphons erase memories?”
Aldrich strokes his beard, looking thoughtful. “The older they are, the more powerful they become. We don’t know what the oldest Siphons are capable of because we rarely encounter them. So, yes, it’s possible. Anything is.”
Well, that’s comforting. I try very hard not to grimace so Saela won’t see how worried his words make me.
Quietly, I ask, “Is she going to be able to live on animal blood?”
“Yes, theoretically.” Aldrich turns around and grabs one of his dusty books off the floor.
“I found a record here of a Siphon prisoner that our forces kept under observation several hundred years ago. They fed him exclusively animal blood, and he stayed alive for years, although he never quite recovered his Siphon strength and he appeared to age, unlike most Siphons.”
Interesting. But a weaker, aging version of Saela is fine—as long as she’s alive.
I take a deep breath that smells like blood and damp stone. “I’d like to move her out of the cells. She shouldn’t be here after months of imprisonment.”
Aldrich tenses. “I would advise caution. We should not risk proximity with other humans.” I hear the unspoken words… in case she loses control. “And there’s something else you should know.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. Aldrich looks uncomfortable.
“I have read there’s something called a sire bond,” he says, wincing. “We don’t teach about it because it doesn’t affect how we battle them. New Siphons have a bond with the one who turned them.”
A short, affronted gasp escapes me. “Like a bond bond? Similar to our bonds with our wolves or with one another?”
Aldrich’s wince deepens the lines on his face.
“Yes, it sounds similar. There is a level of mental connection that allows the two bonded Siphons to communicate. It seems there may be some compulsion ability present as well. Like how a Bonded foot soldier cannot disobey their Alpha, a Siphon must follow the orders of its sire when compelled.”
I want to weep, but I hold it together. It wasn’t enough that Killian could get into my head—he has to be in hers, too. We don’t know for sure that he turned her, but it seems likely.
Turning to Saela, I ask, “Do you sense him? Killian? Or anyone else? Do you feel a connection to someone?”
She squints her eyes, as if seeking something out. “No. Nothing.”
My fingers lace with hers again. “Are you sure? This is really important, Sae.”
Saela’s fingers tremble against mine. “I swear, Meryn. I don’t feel anything.”
Would she know what to even look for? Is she being compelled right now and forced to lie about it?
For my own sanity, I need to believe that, no, he has no control over her. He can’t reach her and never will.
“You see,” Aldrich interjects. “It’s not just other humans at risk in the presence of a Siphon.
” The way he’s speaking about her is so clinical that I’m starting to see red.
The shadows in the dungeons begin to stir.
“You are at a unique risk, Your Highness. If he’s able to get into her mind, to compel her while she’s in your presence—”
“Enough,” I snap, shadows whipping themselves against the floor at the tone in my voice. Even now, without my crown on, they’re responding to me—but in a way totally out of my control.
Aldrich startles at the display, and guilt twists. I understand why he’s saying all this, of course. But it’s so much more personal than he seems to understand.
It’s Saela we’re talking about, not some Siphon experiment.
Saela, whom I need to protect. Saela, whom I need to heal.
It’s my fault she’s like this in the first place.
Softening my tone and quelling the shadows, I continue, “Thank you for your counsel, Leader Aldrich, and for finding out all this information. Contrary to your belief, I think it would be best if Saela stays as close to me as possible, where she can be under constant supervision and where we can be alerted immediately if it feels like Killian is planning something.”
Aldrich nods tightly, then bows. “I understand, Your Highness. If that’s the case, then she needs to be somewhere that will limit her interactions with others and where we can keep an eye on her.”
Anassa speaks into my mind. “Bring Saela to our chambers. There is an additional bedroom attached, and I will watch over her. You can hold back Helene and Grigore from the front, as they know about her condition, and reassign them as watch. Cratos will speak to Stark about it.”
With this plan, Anassa can alert me right away if Saela’s control slips again. And beyond that, she can keep her fed when her hunger returns.
There’s something else there, too. Something warm and gentle. Anassa wants to watch over Saela.
We are family, the three of us.
I tell Leader Aldrich the plan and then say, “Please keep researching. I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done for us so far. I just… I need a cure. We need to find it.”
He flashes me a sad smile and then bows, departing the dungeons.
“Saela,” I say softly. She doesn’t look up at me. “Would you want to stay in my chambers?”
Saela’s gaze is vacant. Empty. The circles under her eyes darken when she weakly lifts her shoulders in a shrug. She’s tearing my heart out, but I don’t let it show. I don’t want Saela to know how afraid I am.
I’ll be strong for both of us. I always have been.
My mind returns to Saela over and over again throughout the course of the day. She’s with me through every task, an incessant hum.
Venna takes me to see the palace blacksmith while Saela settles into my quarters. He looks at my engagement bracelet and tries to get it off, but it once again tightens painfully on my wrist, cutting off my circulation. The blacksmith shakes his head, telling us he knows no magic like it.
And the Dire Blade? “This is no human-forged metal I’ve ever seen.” Ominous and totally fucking unhelpful.
At least the blacksmith provides me with a new sword to use in its place. Nothing as flashy as the Dire Blade, of course, or as laden with meaning… but it’s the perfect size for my frame and has better balance than my practice sword from the Trials.
Venna promises to dig into some Kryptos connections and keep looking for answers.
And I think—research, Saela would love that.
But, of course, my sister can’t help.
After, Stark marches me out to the courtyard to say goodbye to the newly Bonded forces deploying to the war front. I give them some completely milquetoast, barely rousing speech about bravery and war and duty.
And I think—Saela could have helped me figure out what to say.
She was always better with words than me. Will she ever use those skills again? Will she get to finish the education she so deserves?
Eventually, I end up back at my new chambers. Grigore and his large black direwolf are stationed outside the rooms, a minor comfort. He and Helene will split the days, with Anassa, Cratos, and Stark filling in when they can.
The attendants in my chambers will be instructed to keep away from her door. The official excuse is that Saela is ill from her months in captivity.
I murmur a greeting to Grigore and then head through my living area and into Saela’s room. It’s been stocked with books already—did Stark do that? The hearth is blazing. And she’s wrapped up in blankets on her bed, her back to the door.
She doesn’t stir when I sit down on the bed. Either she’s asleep or just pretending to be. My heart tears at the thought. I reach out a tentative hand and stroke her long brown hair—so similar to how mine used to look.
Everything has changed since my hair looked that way.
And still—this is what matters the most.
“I’m going to fix you, Sae,” I whisper.
Which one of us am I trying to convince?