Chapter Two
He who knows the end from the beginning need not fear the fires along the path, for My words shall forever stand.
In a daze, I trailed an unfamiliar knight through the winding corridors of the base.
Thoughts tangled, creating a chaotic mess.
Mr. Vyle suspected Cyrus of being a traitor.
Probably me too. Okay, definitely me. Why else kick off the interrogation by highlighting my romantic involvement with he who’d once eaten a forbidden berry?
I should alert Cyrus. Hunt him down and explain all. Unless that was what the emperor’s right-hand man hoped I’d do.
Yeah, better to wait until Cyrus sought me out. In the meantime, I should act as if nothing was amiss. Besides, he probably expected the suspicion. He wasn’t a newbie double agent. Far from it. He had years of experience.
But dang it, foreboding slithered back in, constricting my airway in a viselike grip. We wouldn’t win this. We couldn’t. CURED was too powerful, too entrenched in every aspect of our worlds, and we were too weak.
What are you doing? Stop! I buried the newest doom seed in my memory garden, beside the last. For too long, I had believed CURED was the superior force, while Soal and his Soalians were lesser. We weren’t. Not even close. We could win this.
Calm came as my guide navigated the twisty hallways, leading me from the unfamiliar palace half of the building to the all-too-familiar prison half.
The second we rounded a corner, everything altered, warm air turning stale and cold.
Glistening crystal walls gave way to rough, pitted concrete.
There were no statues here, but something equally ominous: a row of cells, each with a slightly rusted wall of iron bars.
A distant drip echoed through the silence, each drop landing with a hollow plink, marking time.
The stark differences struck me as never before, and I wondered if the history I’d been told was accurate. CURED had lied about so many things, so why not this?
The most accepted theory: Over two hundred years ago, Ourland, my world, had fused with another world, Theirland, when someone sprayed certain chemicals into the air, burning through an invisible veil.
In an instant, both territories became a mishmash of each other.
Half and half. We retained a portion of our architecture and acquired a portion of theirs.
Even our soil combined with theirs, causing the Great Soil and Seed Anomaly, with little able to grow.
Not to mention we exchanged our good health for their Madness, a terrible disease that turned its victims into vicious killers.
The guard stopped at the women’s locker room. “You have five minutes to prepare.”
I didn’t bother responding. Entering the open space, I took in the banks of cubbies, the benches, and the individual shower stalls with smoked, armored glass. Empty. Everyone else must be in class. Morning warm-up, to be specific.
As quickly as possible, I changed into a clean uniform—which was no longer blue but green, the color for Archduke Baracas Heta’s students.
Despite being only halfway into my first phase of training, I had a new lead instructor.
I’d anticipated that, but being without Cyrus was going to suck.
The fact that the archduke disliked me only added to the suckage.
Sighing, I adjusted my new necklace beneath the shirt’s neckline, then braided my hair and plotted my next move.
Like Cyrus suggested, I must do this one day at a time.
Today’s goals: Forget that the emperor’s right-hand man walked among us, determined to oust the double agent in his midst; keep my ears open for any tidbit that might help Cyrus become king; and avoid any hint of panic, all while proving to Mr. Vyle there was no reason to suspect us of being double agents. No big deal.
Tremors plagued me as I trudged from the locker room to the designated gym.
My steps faltered when I realized my original escort had been replaced by two higher-ranking barons.
One soldier moved in front of me while the other trailed us.
Both remained silent. They were either here to act as my protectors or my wardens.
Since I knew my words would be reported, I remained silent.
This was fine. I was fine. Breathe. Just breathe.
A bell rang, signaling the end of warm-up. Well. Looked like I’d start with Realms and Travel, the second class of the day, taught by Archduke Heta himself.
I soared through the open door just as the bell rang.
Hmm. A mere fourteen lords- and ladies-in-training occupied the seats, and I recognized only four of them.
Roman, a friend, plus Miller, Cash, and a girl named Merlot, mere acquaintances.
They sat with lords- and ladies-in-training I’d never met, whispering together.
If CURED had split Cyrus’s class down the middle, giving an equal number to both Heta and Duchess Mimidae, the other instructor, I should see three other familiar faces in here.
Either the powers that be had brought in a new instructor, or something had happened to my former teammates.
Someone noticed me and alerted others. All conversations tapered to silence as every eye swung my way. Expressions shifted to display one of four emotions in various degrees. Curiosity, confusion, envy, and disdain. What had they heard?
Heart thudding, I claimed the lone available seat. Front row center, with a direct sight line to the archduke’s desk, where the man in question currently sat, organizing his notes. At least Roman was my neighbor. But, um, what was the strange sensation currently uncoiling beneath my sternum?
It wasn’t unpleasant but warm, sweet, and strong enough to dissolve a new rush of foreboding. Nerve endings whirred, igniting a sense that a long-lost friend waited nearby, eager to speak with me.
The sensation disbanded when I noticed my guards. They remained at the door, one on each side. Uh . . .
The archduke extended his arm and made a shooing motion without glancing in their direction. “Wait in the hall.” A little person in his late forties, he exuded strict control and unwavering assurance.
Though the soldiers were of a lower rank, neither obeyed him. “We come with a message from Emperor Dolion, sir,” the one with a buzz cut stated.
Heta worked his jaw, clearly irritated, but he also offered a clipped nod. Rather than invite the men closer, he stood and strode over, using a cane he hadn’t needed three days ago. He exited the room, and the guards followed, shutting the door behind them, leaving me alone with my classmates.
I sank down in my seat, wondering if anyone suspected that a traitor lurked in their midst. A glower, at that. Their greatest enemy. Someone they would kill without hesitation or remorse.
Roman gripped the side of his desk and leaned my way to quietly say, “Did you hear? King Tagin is dead.” More anger than sadness lit his eyes. “An entire unit got mowed down with him.” He listed a bunch of names, more than the number of soldiers I’d watched Tagin murder.
A loud boom! boom! boom! of gunfire echoed inside my head.
In a flash of vivid color, I relived the executions as if I stood in the clearing once again, bordered by a road and old, dead trees.
The bodies of my friends and those with them jerked as bullets sliced into their brains.
Their knees buckled, and they crashed into the dirt, motionless, staring at nothing.
“I’d known about Titus, Juniper, Lark, and only a handful of others,” I croaked.
Tears stung my eyes, and I tried to blink them away.
It didn’t work. Using mental gardening shears, I snipped the blooms now growing from one of many bushes in the Grief and Despair section of my memory garden.
Finally, success. The moisture dried. This wasn’t the time or place to mourn.
Roman reached over to pat my hand. “People die in this world, Ardie. You’ll get used to it.”
“I really hope I don’t.” The bulk of my life, I’d kept people at a distance, afraid to make friends, certain they’d all break with Madness.
I spent years lonely and isolated, counseled strictly by anxiety.
With Cyrus and the Soalians, I’d experienced the joys of relationship.
I cared now, and there was no going back.
Roman nudged my shoulder. “Whatever you do, get your mind right fast. Things are about to get wild. From what I’ve heard, only two high princes opted not to go for the title of king.
The remaining five will converge at Fort Bala soon.
Word is, the emperor favors Cyrus’s half brother, High Prince Felix, as well as High Princess Lolli. ”
I’d heard of both royals, of course. Who hadn’t?
The princess was Cyrus’s sister-in-law, a widow once married to another of his half brothers, a high prince who’d died in battle.
Many called her a force of nature. HP Felix was famous for his merciless infiltration of glower strongholds.
If they could be recruited to our cause, great.
But if not . . . we must deal with them.
“What about Cyrus?” I asked. “His capture-kill rates can’t be beat.”
Roman leaned closer still. “My source says his chances are low. That the emperor—”
“Quiet down,” Archduke Heta commanded as he reentered the room.
Argh! The emperor what?
To my dismay, the barons followed the archduke inside and repositioned at the door.
“Ignore Lady Roosa’s bodyguards,” Heta announced. “They were assigned by Emperor Piven himself.”
My eyes widened. No, impossible. Except, Mr. Vyle. The one who currently wielded the same authority as the emperor. He wouldn’t hesitate to do this.