Chapter 32
Eliza slides the key into the lock, looking both ways as she wiggles it around until we hear a click. Her knitted brows soften, and she beckons for us to stand. “Hurry. We can’t keep the guards distracted forever.”
We? My limbs are stiff and heavy, but I force myself to tiptoe toward the cell door. For once, I’m actually excited to see my stuffy sister. Who’s looking … not so stuffy. Forgoing her usual dress, Eliza wears a sage-green cloak over brown riding pants and a gray lace-up blouse.
She catches my expression and wrinkles her nose. “What are you looking at?” Without waiting for my answer, she whispers, “Drop that cloak. We don’t need you running around in bloodstained clothes, drawing more attention to yourself.” She tosses a much smaller key to Ivander. “For the cuffs.”
As he works to unlock the cuffs, she reaches into a woven bag over her shoulder. She pulls out another pair of brown riding pants, a plum lace-up blouse, and a brown overcoat.
Once he’s free, Ivander helps me with my own cuffs. The moment they slide off my wrists, I feel lighter. “Allow me to introduce my sister,” I say with a wave toward Eliza.
As Eliza passes pants, a shirt, and a drab black cloak to Ivander, he extends his hand. “I’m Ivander.”
“Don’t have time,” she answers. “I don’t care if you fell in love on the ship of nightmares. Introductions later. Both of you, turn around and strip.”
My face heats as I pull off my clothes and wiggle my feet into the riding pants. Questions run through my mind. How did Eliza know I was here? Who else is with her? I shrug into my brown coat and open my mouth.
“Nope,” Eliza snaps in her bossy whisper.
“Don’t have time to answer all your burning questions now.
I will, I promise.” She looks me in the eyes as she says it.
“I’m not going to lie to you like he did.
” She nods to Ivander and motions over my head.
“Grab the lantern. It’s dark as pitch down here. ”
Ivander seizes the lantern as I tie the laces of my boots. We follow Eliza, half crouched and silent, out of the cell in the base of the tower. My heart leaps into my throat, but there’s no one here. My sister lets out a heavy breath. “Thank the Riveners,” she murmurs. “The potion’s working.”
“We can’t make it all the way to the top level without being seen,” Ivander says. “Where are we supposed to go?”
“They keep the weapons in a storage room on this level. It’s not usually under heavy guard since no one enters this prison without Father’s permission. Besides, he cares more about guarding the prisoners,” Eliza answers grudgingly.
And I know he can’t possibly have an endless supply of men and women willing to work down in this pit.
Eliza motions for us to follow close behind.
We’re flanked by iron-barred cells and gray stone walls on either side.
The cells are unoccupied, or those inside are fast asleep.
The number of sleeping prisoners and guards we pass makes me uneasy.
The sounds of our boots hitting the floor echo off the walls, and I hold my breath.
The torches offer meager light as Eliza leads us past the staircase heading to the next tower level. Part of me longs to dash up it, find Leith, and try to get as far as we can, no matter who sees us. I have my Morphia back now. But my need for a real explanation outweighs my desire for escape.
We reach the end of the hallway, and Eliza knocks on a great stone door: three fast, two slow. The vast door with its cracked, mossy stones groans as it opens. The sharp scrape of stone against stone sets my teeth on edge.
Ivander’s eyes dart back and forth as he holds the lantern out in front of him. He guards Eliza and me from behind, waiting for an attack that never comes. “Get in. They’re not going to bite,” she barks.
Torches light the weapons room, which resembles a cave more than anywhere else in the prison.
With muddy stone beneath our feet and a dome-shaped interior, it feels like I’ve crawled into a bear’s den.
That is, if it weren’t for the vast piles of crafter-made bows and arrows, pistols, ceremonial swords, and flexible, crafter-made armor resting on the floor.
There are even cylindrical iron bodies that might be projectiles.
“Whoa,” Ivander gasps, shutting the door behind us. “How long has he been collecting?”
“For generations, we think,” Eliza says, leaning against the moist stone wall. I expect her to recoil from the grimy residue soiling her clothes, but she doesn’t flinch.
Father must have crafters working with the weapons to make the arrows fly faster. Smugglers have to be providing Father with the materials for weapons, seeing as he’s amassed so many I think he could arm all of Tamarynth’s forces.
I’ve barely stepped into the room, Ivander still behind me, when I see the three people clumped together in the dimly lit space. Alana, Gray, and …
It has to be him.
He’s tall—as tall as Gray—and older than I remember him, with longer dark hair and a scruffy beard over his warm ivory skin. But that twinkle in his eye and easy, lopsided smile gives him away. He takes a small step toward me.
Leith.
He wobbles a little, and Gray steadies him from behind. “Roe?” my brother asks, voice breaking as he speaks. “You’re so much older. You were just a little girl—”
I don’t wait for him to finish.
Don’t wait for him to tell me it’s okay. I don’t stop to think if I’m comfortable or not because I know I am.
I run to him and throw my arms around his neck.
“Hey,” he croons into my hair. Gray holds on to Leith’s shoulders to keep me from knocking him over.
I let go fast, sheepish as I shove my hands into my coat pockets. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just … can’t believe it.”
Leith squeezes my shoulders. “I know. I never thought I’d see you again.” His eyes dart back to Gray. “Any of you. It still doesn’t feel real.”
Ivander holds out his hand to Leith. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
Leith’s eyes slide from Ivander’s outstretched hand to my face, but he never could resist new people.
I can’t hide my grin at Ivander’s second attempt at introductions.
Leith smiles and shakes his hand. After a hasty round of hellos where Ivander and Alana introduce themselves to Leith and Eliza, we all stand in the dark, waiting for someone to speak.
“Anyone care to catch us up?” Ivander finally asks. “How did you get us in here without any of the guards noticing?”
I whirl around to face Eliza. “And how did you find out about Leith?”
My sister crosses her arms. “It was a few nights after you left. I overheard Father talking to one of his prison guards. I heard some things I didn’t understand.
But the more I listened, the more I learned.
Leith was being kept in Malachite Prison.
” Which is when she learned what we had—that Father was planning to use the imprisoned Morphics for an army in a second war.
That the Celestial was part of his plan.
“I decided to tell Mother,” Eliza admits. “I got worried Father was in trouble. And I was worried about you too.” Her eyes narrow. “Don’t look so shocked.”
Once Mother surprisingly got involved, she and Eliza began to learn as much about the Damarcus family tree as they could.
Mother, being an accomplished professor, found pieces of research Father hadn’t destroyed.
Some of his aunt’s old diaries, stashed in the floorboards of their bedroom, mentioned the Celestial ’s original nefarious purpose.
My great-aunt called it the bomb, and our family was waiting to light the fuse.
As soon as they gathered enough to realize what Father was planning, Mother sent Lysandra a letter, and the two began working on a plan to free Leith.
“I know they don’t usually get along,” Eliza adds.
“But Mother knows Leith was always there for us.” She elbows our brother in the ribs.
Despite the playful nudge, he stumbles into Gray, still unsteady on his legs.
Gray grips Leith’s shoulders hard to keep him from falling and doesn’t let go this time.
“She knew how hard it was on Lysandra, losing him.”
Mother knew she had to tell her. According to Eliza, Mother and Lysandra developed their plan.
They knew Father was using a potion to keep Leith unable to fight back, so Eliza snuck in and replaced his potion with a harmless substitute.
“It was really hard, by the way. I had to hire a shifter to change my hair and everything.”
After a few days of drinking the substitute, he became more aware. It took Mother a while to get a key, but they freed him. Eliza unveils the key from under her cloak now.
“We weren’t exactly sure what Father had planned for you, Roe. But the more Mother found out about our ancestors, the more she began to suspect he was trying to take your Morphia.”
“That’s not all,” Leith adds, glancing down at his worn boots. “You asked how we got here without anyone noticing. It’s because we put the guards on this floor to sleep. And the other prisoners.” He squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a breath. “I used a potion—”
“You’re an alchemer,” I exclaim once the realization hits me. I don’t mean for my voice to come out as loud as it does. For years, people wondered why Leith wasn’t an alchemer. It’s almost always passed through male family members. “You’re a Morphic.”
“Father told me it would be too dangerous to tell anyone. Even you two.” Leith frowns. “He and my mother were the only people who knew. I thought it was to protect me. Now I think it was to prevent me from stopping him.”
“And me,” Gray says, careful to avoid my eyes. “I knew.”
“Oh, right,” Leith adds pleasantly. “Had to tell Gray. I knew he’d think it was sexy.”
Gray’s cheeks turn bright red. “Stop.”
“You both need to stop,” Eliza says, tapping her foot. “That potion won’t work forever. You’re way out of practice. And you know where we’re going.”
Ivander clears his throat before Leith can say something else to make steam come out of Gray’s ears. “I’m glad we have the truth, but we still need to figure out what to do about it.”
“Couldn’t agree with you more,” Leith says. “Personally, I’d like to climb out of this hole and see the sun. Now that I’ve got this one back, I’ll need to work on my tan.”
Gray rolls his eyes. “Why would I care about a tan? I’m the palest person you know.”
“It’s to make you jealous.”
“Hey,” Eliza snaps. “They need the rest of the bad news.”
My throat tightens. How could this get worse?
“Father’s decided it’s time to mobilize,” she says. “There’s a council meeting tonight in Aryndar. Carriages have been bringing jars of Morphia here from the Celestial for weeks. He’s going to unleash raw Morphia and use it to kill the council members.”
Father wouldn’t do that. Maybe he’d kill the council members, but he wouldn’t hurt innocent people. The voice in my head warns me not to trust lines in the sand. He’s already crossed more lines for the sake of the world he’s trying to build than I ever thought possible.
If he were to open even ten of those jars in Aryndar, that much raw Morphia would infiltrate the province’s landscape, its infrastructure.
Magic would produce creatures, objects, and places beyond our understanding and control.
Tamarynth would look as dangerous as it once did when Morphia was free and not only coursing through Morphics’ veins.
If Father unleashed crates of it, the whole of Tamarynth could be affected.
Alana, quiet until now in the corner, is the first of us to speak. She takes a step forward into the light. “How do we stop him?”
Eliza taps the tip of her chin. “He’s coming here to gather his army. At least, part of it. He’ll need to wake them. Some of them have been taking the potion for so long, they’ll go with him no matter what he says.”
“Others may fight with us,” Leith adds. “I’ve managed to talk to some of them. Convinced them to stop taking their potion. Spit it into the water bucket, that kind of thing.” He shrugs at our collective surprised expressions. “I didn’t say I couldn’t be a general. I just don’t want to be his.”
“How will we know when Lord Damarcus is here?” Alana asks, glancing uneasily toward the door.
As if on cue, an echoing trumpet sound wafts down to us from above. The thunderous sound of movement overhead scatters dust from the ceiling.
Eliza looks up, biting her lip. “We’ll know.”