Chapter Ten #2
We entered the rift room with other trainees in tangled lines.
The atmosphere changed immediately, becoming denser, humming with an eerie static that prickled my skin.
The trio of rifts loomed in the center of the spacious chamber.
They resembled giant slashes, as if some monster had clawed and split the very air itself, leaving jagged doorways to the abyss beyond.
Wisps of darkness curled at their edges, writhing like smoke trapped in a vacuum.
Inside, the gashes pulsed faintly, an unnatural glow casting warped shadows across the concrete walls.
A low, distorted murmur leached from the openings, sending a shudder down my spine.
The scent of scorched metal and something sickly sweet filled my lungs as I took my next step forward.
Usually we traveled in an orderly fashion. Today, chaos reigned. Men and women from every level rushed through the gloom, vanishing.
At the front of the room, strapping on pieces of golden armor, was Mr. Vyle.
I pressed a hand to my churning stomach. Everyone in his vicinity appeared stressed to the max, except him. He remained as cool as ever, even when he swung his gaze to me, as if he’d sensed my attention. He inclined his head in acknowledgment, and I did the same.
Miller moved between me and the royal executioner, obstructing my view. He wiggled his brows. “Heard you trying to win back your sweet, sweet prince this morning, Roosa.”
My cheeks burned anew. He couldn’t be the Soalian. He just couldn’t be.
“Focus up.” Roman stepped in and elbowed Miller in the gut, surprising me with the show of support. “Something big is happening, and we get to be a part of it. We’ll give our best today. Got it?”
Hunching over, Miller gasped for breath he couldn’t catch. He offered a thumbs-up.
“Classes, follow me through,” Mr. Vyle called. “The royals and upper gentry are awaiting our arrival.” He took position at the front and entered the darkness.
My group joined the clusters of soldiers-in-training surging toward the seams. Winslet entered first, then Cash and Miller. I followed Roman and Merlot, bracing for an onslaught of agony as I entered the gloom.
Just as it had done every time before, the foundation crumbled under my feet. I tumbled into an endless void, yet the agony never came. I experienced not even one flicker of pain. Didn’t feel as though my limbs were being ripped from their sockets and used to beat me over the head.
I marveled, unsure what to make of the change. Although, the reason for it struck me as obvious. I was a Soalian now. A glower. Did travel only hurt the CURED?
In a blink, the foundation returned, and the gloom fled, replaced by a large gymnasium like the one I’d just left.
This one came with a magnificent view. Out of habit, I glanced up, drinking in the glass ceiling that revealed a star-studded night sky.
Something I’d never seen until joining the military.
“You’re good?” Roman asked, confused as he looked me over. Sweat trickled from his brow, and he panted.
I had zero perspiration and normal breathing. Uh-oh. That might be a problem. A dead giveaway. My temperature cooled fast, and I trembled. “Y-yeah. I’m okay.”
Thankfully, he moved on without further comment.
My gaze shifted to Miller, who helped a pale Merlot to her feet, careful of her healing wrist. He evinced few signs of distress, but he didn’t appear unaffected. Actually, no one appeared unaffected.
I forced myself to turn and help the soldier who exited the seam after me. Like Merlot, he collapsed. I eased his fall to the best of my ability and helped him to his feet.
“Let’s go,” Cyrus called from somewhere in the room.
Ah, there he was. He and the other royals stood with Heta and Mimidae. Honestly, as happy as I was to have him near, I wished he’d stayed in Ourland. He kept losing his memories in Theirland.
Clearly seething beneath the surface, he snapped something at his half brother, High Prince Felix, who laughed and patted his shoulder, defusing the situation.
Each of the royals wore a camouflage jacket, the left breast decorated with the CURED emblem.
As if he’d been attuned to my presence despite the chaos of the crowd, Cyrus caught my gaze with his own. The noise around me faded until only he existed. He raised an eyebrow, his question clear: Are you all right?
A shiver rocked me, and I nodded. You?
He returned the nod.
As soon as Mr. Vyle joined them, the royals led us into a larger room, where we shuffled from one booth to another, collecting armor and weapons.
Netter guns, whips, daggers, and swords.
My nerve endings buzzed. As usual, we were going to dive into combat without taking a break.
Now, though, I understood why we’d always done so.
In emergencies, there was no time to prepare.
“Line up and listen,” Heta called, and the room went silent. “There’s a field twelve miles from the base. Numerous toxic berries are growing there. Troops are attempting to torch the fields, but glowers are stopping them. Feeders are arriving in droves.”
Berries like the one Cyrus had eaten and the emperor lamented? The reason the emperor might have sent Mr. Vyle to Fort Bala?
Each breath became a blade, each exhale a wound. We were going to be sent into the fray, weren’t we?
Worry lines branched from Heta’s eyes. “Our forces need all the help they can get, even from trainees. I know you’re scared, but you won’t be alone. We have paired you with a high-ranking officer.”
Anticipation infiltrated the barrage of other emotions swimming through me.
Knowing Cyrus, he’d arranged for us to do this mission together.
If I made a mistake, revealing my true allegiance, he’d cover for me.
And together, we could help our fellow glowers save the berries without drawing unwanted suspicion.
“Everyone will go out together but arrive at the field from different points. When I call your name, step forward,” Heta commanded. “Roman Alexander, you’re with High Prince Summit.”
Summit kissed his middle finger and blew it at the rest of us as Roman joined him, pumping a fist into the air. The HP led him from the chamber.
“Merlot Doogle, you’re with High Prince Mallow. Arden Roosa.”
I snapped to attention, my excitement on par with Roman’s.
“You’re with High Princess Lolli Dolion.”
What? My steps faltered, and so did my heartbeat. With sheer will alone, I restarted, stalking through the door on the heels of Cyrus’s ex-girlfriend.
Don’t panic, don’t panic. But.
But.
Really?
High Princess Lolli led me through a maze of dimly lit hallways accented with polished stone.
Each security checkpoint bustled with quiet efficiency—scanners beeped, armored guards checked our IDs, and the faint crackle of radios filled the silence between commands.
When we finally stepped into the garage, a cloud of heavy air hit, the odor of motor oil, singed metal, and the bite of gunpowder overpowering.
The space lived and breathed urgency, the rhythmic whirring of drills blending with the sharp clank of wrenches being used to tighten bolts.
Metal scraped against metal, and the unmistakable sound of magazines snapping into place echoed like a drumbeat of war.
Three massive trucks loomed in the center, their exteriors dull with dust and wear. Crates of ammunition and tactical gear covered nearby shelves, an armory on standby. Soldiers worked with methodical precision, their uniforms rustling as they adjusted straps and checked weapons.
As soon as they noticed High Princess Lolli, the men snapped to attention, their boots striking the concrete. They saluted, then returned to their tasks, hands steady, focus unwavering.
“There are soldiers out there now, creating paths for us,” the princess told me. “When they’re done, we’ll head out. Could be five minutes, could be five hours.” She stopped at an open section with a bank of lockers, straddled a bench, and faced me. “Let’s chat while we’ve got the chance.”
I eased down across from her, struggling to hide my growing apprehension.
She jumped right in. “You are dating our Cyrus.”
I bit my tongue. “I’d argue your use of the word our, but yes, I’m dating him.” The snippy tone slipped out before I could run it through my Is This Smart filter.
Rather than take offense, she grinned, showcasing perfect pearly whites. Although, it wasn’t amusement I detected in her but, hmm. Nothing. I detected no emotion. “Good to see he still likes his women feisty.”
Okay, that irritated. “Cyrus isn’t a topic I’m willing to chat about.”
“I’m sure you’re disappointed not to be paired with him,” she continued as if I hadn’t spoken, “but he chose to be with Lord Miller. I wouldn’t worry, though. It probably means nothing.” She flashed another cold smile. “I decided to seize my chance to learn more about you.”
I gnashed my teeth. If I knew Cyrus, and I did, he thought he was protecting me in some way. Something we’d be discussing.
“I’ll be straight with you.” She dropped her chin but kept her gaze on me. “I know what you are.”
My stomach twisted into more of those awful knots, but not by word or deed did I reveal it. “Okay. I’ll bite. What am I?”
“What Cyrus is.” She hiked her shoulders in a shrug. “What I am. Which is a recent development, but a development all the same.”
“Okay.” An internal alarm erupted as I tried to process her confession.
She couldn’t mean what I thought she meant.
That she was a new Soalian and an ally. I would sense it, just as I sensed the other Soalian.
While I only distinguished the other sometimes, there was always an underlying knowledge.
But here, now, I felt no tug of connection. No beat of familiarity.
This must be a trick. Or another test.
This woman vied for the same exalted position as the high prince. If she could convince me she was on my side, get me to confess to a crime, then pin me as a traitor, she could damage Cyrus’s chance of success.
“You’ll have to elaborate if you’d like me to understand what you’re saying,” I grated.
She canted her head, examining me further. “We are people with an agenda. You seek Cyrus, Cyrus seeks the crown, and I seek what Cyrus can give me. I’ll win him back, I assure you.”
Bile churned in my throat, frothing. “He’s your competition.”
“I have no competition.” She spread her arms, all look at me.
“He respects strength, and I have that in spades. We can rule the kingdoms together. But you . . . you are a lamb among wolves. You’ll make a pitiful queen.
I just thought you should know so you don’t waste your prime on unattainable dreams.”
More teeth gnashing. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
A grim-faced Domino appeared behind her, stepping from thin air. “There’s a problem,” he said, and I jolted. “The fires Heta mentioned are producing smoke laced with some kind of sedative that affects only recently turned Soalians. As soon as one falls, feeders converge.”
Panic delivered a one-two strike, stealing my breath. “Is there a way to combat it?” I burst out without thought.
Lolli narrowed her eyes. “You did not just bark a question at me.” A pause. She grated, “Combat what?”
I opened my mouth, unsure what to say. A loud buzzer went off, spilling from the intercom system, saving me from having to eke out some kind of apology or explanation.
The princess popped to her feet. I did the same, my heart racing. The other soldiers quickened their pace, rushing to finish loading a truck.
“They’re calling for us,” she said, stalking to a table littered with equipment.
“We’ll deal with your insubordination later.
” After sheathing a handful of daggers, she jumped up and down, shook out her hands, and touched two fingers to her lips three times before pointing those fingers into the air.
Some kind of good-luck ritual?
I looked to Domino, wide eyed. How was I supposed to avoid an airborne sedative? I couldn’t not breathe.
“A battalion is en route,” he informed me, resolved. Perhaps even concerned? “They’ll clear the air. The problem is, they are twelve minutes and eighteen seconds out.”
Guess I’d have to find a way to stay awake, no matter the provocation, for twelve minutes. “I’ve got this,” I muttered, and he gave a stiff nod.
Lolli handed me a familiar metal band. An RVM corrector.
I anchored the piece around my head and programmed the eye lens to drop.
In Theirland, once you exited the base, you experienced upside-down vision.
The lens righted everything, but not without consequences.
Sharp pains sliced into my brain, and they were worse than any time previous.
Usually those pains faded, leaving a dull ache behind.
This time, the sharpness remained. Nothing I could do about it now. Eleven minutes, forty-five seconds.
I followed the princess to the truck, expecting the librarian to follow. Before vanishing, he merely called, “Stick to Lolli as if you are glued.”
Great. Just when I needed him most. Trembling, I climbed inside the vehicle. The men jumped in after me. The princess and I sat in the back, settling upon the bench that rimmed the cab, with the others sitting in front of us.
Another thirty seconds down.
High Princess Lolli reached out to slap the side of the truck. “Let’s go.”