Chapter 35 Genevieve
Genevieve
The stench of rot is so overpowering that my eyes burn and my nostrils sting.
I want to tell Kieran this is too much, that I can’t possibly inspect anything under these conditions.
But then I think of how he fought through the night—the blue blood in his body still causing him agony from all those years of working in these mines—and I swallow my dismay, following him through the underground entrance.
“We can’t go far here. I’ve closed this section, but I wanted you to see the conditions. Since mining ended, the rot has slowed its progress, but the helachite is still unstable.”
I don’t know how he can speak so calmly in the stifling, foul air with a heaviness that clings to the narrow tunnel. He doesn’t even cover his face as he talks, reaching for a vein of exposed ore and chipping it off with his hand. It crumbles under his touch, releasing a sharp, gaseous odor.
“Helachite is naturally a sturdy mineral—difficult to extract and work with—but once it’s pried out and exposed to the oils on our hands and the air around us, it begins to deteriorate.
The more it’s exposed, the more rot forms. It’s useless to me now.
The structure that gives helachite its power is so far gone it’s essentially waste.
It’s well known that helachite isn’t valuable in this state, but the former owner continued to force miners to work in these conditions.
When people come in contact with the rot, they get very ill.
You’ve seen that firsthand, from your sister and the death in the palace. ”
He guides me toward the exit, and I feel sick inside, thinking about the people who labored for next to nothing in these conditions. “Did you have to work down here?”
He shakes his head quickly, but his eyes linger too long on the space before he closes the door.
“I was deemed too valuable early on. It was only the weaker workers who were sent into this mine. It was a death sentence—a quick way to rid the business of people no longer useful. But we all knew what was down here. I closed it as soon as I was able to take ownership.”
Outside, under a heavy grey sky, I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with cleaner air before asking the question that’s been on my mind for weeks. “How did you manage to rise to where you are today?”
“You know me—I have a way of making things work to my advantage. I started as a miner, like anyone else. I lost my father to this mine, and something in me snapped. I wanted to right the wrongs that had been done to us, so I fought in the only way I knew how. I moved up to supervisor, then began taking courses in the evenings to become an engineer. After that, I was promoted. Unlike my colleagues, I invested every coin I earned, choosing to remain in the bachelor barracks with the other miners. Turns out, I’m good at investing, and I made a significant profit. ”
He glances toward the horizon, the wind catching the loose strands of his hair. The haunted look in his eyes tells me every word costs him something to say.
“Then I was promoted over the mine, and that’s when I made my move.
I offered the former owner a deal he couldn’t refuse and bought the place.
After that, I secured a loan and purchased a mine in Icelantica.
I knew there was potential to operate helachite mines in a more humane—and more profitable—way by reducing exposure and smelting the mineral into a stable form.
I’d been experimenting in the evenings for years and knew my process would work.
Once I got things running, I kept expanding, determined to reinvent the industry. ”
This man. How could he have the drive, the sheer determination, to make such sweeping changes after so much suffering? I know I wouldn’t have that kind of resolve. He amazes me, and I try to slip my hand into his, but he pulls away.
“I touched the helachite in there. I need to wash before you hold my hand again. I’d never risk you with this stuff.”
He leads me through the rocky outcroppings toward another mining entrance bustling with people.
“You’re a remarkable man, Kieran. To have done all this in only nine years.”
I want to ask how he ended up at the mines—why he left me, only to come to this horrible place—but I’m afraid of reopening old wounds. I must have already done enough to drive him here.
“Good morning, sir,” a man says, tipping his cap to Kieran.
“Good morning, George,” Kieran replies with a nod as we make our way toward the mine entrance.
Inside, I immediately see the difference between the two sites.
This one is lit with bright gas lamps. Along a tiled corridor are sinks with running water and soap; above them hang stacks of leather gloves in all sizes, and below are thick wool suits, clean and ready for the day’s use.
“Are you ready to go underground, Princess?” Kieran asks, handing me a pair of gloves and wool suit.
I smile and assure him that I am. Despite my misgivings, I know Kieran will keep me safe. And what he said when we left Fairbright was true—if I’m too afraid to enter these mines, how can I ask my citizens to do so?
Once I’ve slid the suit over my dress, Kieran hands me a heavy metal helmet, fastening the leather strap under my chin.
“How do I look?” I ask, giving him a little twirl.
“Ready to work,” he replies, thumping my helmet with his gloved hand. “Stay close to me, and don’t touch the mineral if you can help it. It’s still in its raw form down here, which makes it volatile. You should be fine, but I’d rather not risk you.”
I give a small chuckle. “I am the heir apparent. It would be a national emergency if something were to happen to me.”
He turns back and wraps a hand around my waist, looking down at me. “Just to be clear, I don’t give a fuck about the crown. It’s you I want to be safe.”
“Oh,” I say, surprised. When was the last time anyone valued me simply for myself and not for what I represent? Clemmy cares. My siblings do too. But still, I’ve always been the crown princess—even to those closest to me.
Kieran leads me to a strange metal cage and pushes a button that emits a loud chirp. A series of chirps answer before I hear the rattling of metal. A smaller cage moves up to meet us. He opens the door and guides me inside before pressing another set of buttons.
“This allows us to access the deeper parts of the mine. Before we installed the mechanical carts, we used a rope-and-pulley system. It was… precarious.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I just shake my head, though he probably doesn’t see the gesture. Part of me wants to ask what made it so precarious, but I also can’t help wondering if recalling it would bring up memories he’d rather forget.
“The buttons and beeps let us communicate when to move the mechanical cart and where to send it. Each level has an operator overseeing the system.”
As we descend deeper into the mines, darkness swallows the world. I can hardly see beyond the dim lamp Kieran carries. The cart lurches to a halt, and we step out into near-total blackness.
“I’ve never seen a place so void of light.”
Kieran clears his throat and places a hand on my back, guiding me into a musty, humid tunnel.
“Imagine if I didn’t have this lamp. You wouldn’t see your own hand in front of your face.
Now imagine you’re expected to make your way out from a distant tunnel without a light.
” He brings his free hand to a rope running along the wall.
“That’s why I had this installed throughout the mine.
It’s always on the right side, in every tunnel. ”
“Good thinking. Were you ever in the dark alone?”
I can barely make out his head shake. “If I were, I wouldn’t be with you today. Not many made it out if they lost their light. Some were lucky, but more often we’d lose a miner and not find them for a week or two. The darkness is disorienting, and the tunnels are endless.”
I want to cling to him, to erase the painful memories from his mind. He’s endured so much here, and yet instead of turning his back on a place that hurt him, he’s worked to make it better for those who remain.
More lights appear ahead in the tunnel, and we walk toward them.
“Blackwell!” a man calls. “Didn’t expect to see you this far underground again. Missed us that badly?” He laughs, slapping Kieran on the back with dust-covered gloves.
“Just providing Princess Genevieve with a tour. She’s here to inspect the mines.”
Around us, the miners bow and murmur their regards. I don’t want their deference—not here, not after seeing the conditions they’d endured. These men and women are above giving me their respect.
“Please, don’t mind me,” I say. “I just want to better understand what it is you all do. You’re making a difference in so many lives as helachite technology advances. You have my gratitude.”
“I want to show her what raw helachite looks like,” Kieran adds, resting his hand at my back again and leading me toward where the men are working.
He points to an illuminated section of rock. Even in the tunnel’s dim light, it sparkles in a medley of colors, shimmering and shifting as if alive. I place a hand over my chest, gasping.
“It’s gorgeous! How is it moving like that?”
The man who greeted Kieran steps forward.
“That’s the magic in it. It’s what turned your great-great-grandmother’s blood blue and started this whole divide.
It’s what gives bluebloods their gifts—and what powers the railways Mr. Blackwell builds.
It runs the new contraptions for tilling fields and weaving fabric. Magic, Princess Genevieve.”
There’s truth in his words. “I must agree with you,” I reply. “How do you remove it?”
He hefts a pickaxe and drives it into the wall. The colors splinter and tremble, as if trying to escape the intrusion, but he continues striking until a hand-sized chunk falls free. Its brilliance fades to a silvery metallic sheen.
“Once upon a time, we needed larger pieces to send to the surface,” he explains. “Thanks to the smelter, we can now use smaller fragments to refine the helachite into what we need—and stabilize it at the same time.”
The man hands me the chunk of rock, and I feel Kieran stiffen, but I take it. “It’s sad to see the rock lose its luster like that. It’s almost as if it’s sentient.”
An older man snickers. “Almost? Princess, the helachite is sentient. That’s why the rot exists. It doesn’t take kindly to misuse, and it’ll punish those who don’t respect it. We miners have known that for a long, long time.”
He squeezes Kieran’s shoulder in a friendly gesture. “And now one of our own is making sure helachite gets the respect it deserves.”
“From what I can see, he’s doing an excellent job of it. What do you gentlemen think?” I ask, earning a chorus of laughter.
“Don’t think of us as gentlemen, Your Highness. We’re not some highborn bluebloods. We’ve been forced to take on the blue blood, and we all suffer for it.”
I glance toward Kieran, hoping for guidance, but he offers none. His face is unreadable, and I think back to his cries in the night. “What are the long-term effects of mining helachite? Is there anything we can do to prevent them?”
“We all get the night terrors,” one man answers, and the others shoot him looks as if he’s said too much. “What? She’s going to be the damn queen! She may as well know what’s happening down here!”
Even in the dim light, I can see the scowl on Kieran’s face. I lay my gloved hand on his arm in reassurance and say, “He’s right. I want to understand how to help all my people—including the helachite miners.”
The man nods and continues, “The night terrors. It’s the body’s reaction to the forced changes in our blood.
Remember the stories about the mad bluebloods from the first generations?
That’s the terrors. Then there’s those who spent too long touching raw helachite—lots of injuries there.
But Mr. Blackwell’s worked hard to see them cared for, even after all they’ve been through.
The new generation of miners isn’t seeing such rapid deterioration.
We’ve even got a young man down here whose blood’s still as red as a ruby.
I think it’s because of Mr. Blackwell’s new rules. ”
I look at Kieran, curious. “What rules?”
He clears his throat. “Shorter shifts, mandatory three days off. Everyone wears safety gear and washes before going home. I’ve installed running water and bathing rooms in all my mines. Any injuries are reported immediately and treated.”
“Doesn’t that increase the operating costs significantly?” I ask.
Kieran shakes his head. “It’s more important to give my workers a good life. If it cuts into my profits, so be it. I’m already richer than any man should be. The least I can do is improve the conditions they work in.”
I don’t know what to say to that. I think of my own family—how much we pride ourselves on duty and decorum, yet never once have we sacrificed our comfort for our people. And here is Kieran, making a greater difference than my mother ever has.
She’s never even bothered to learn the conditions these miners toiled in. In fact, she’s chosen to remain willfully ignorant of the dangers of helachite mining, leaving me just as uninformed.
When we were younger, Kieran was many things—funny, caring, fiercely loyal. It’s no surprise he’s carried that loyalty into adulthood. My heart aches, thinking of how, at such a young age, he chose to fight—not with weapons or violence, but by transforming this industry from the inside out.
Kieran places his thick, gloved hand on my arm, guiding me toward the exit.
“Drager, Cressup, Mitchum—thank you for all your hard work, and for taking time out of your day to show Princess Genevieve what you do. We must be off. It may be a while before I’m back.
Is there anything you need that I can get you? ”
“You’ve done more than we could ask for, sir. But if you must know, Mr. Jenkins passed last week. His widow’s having a hard time. She’s afraid she’ll be removed from her home now that he’s gone. We tried assuring her you’d never do that, but she doesn’t believe us.”
Kieran’s hand tightens on my arm, his body tense. What kind of an operation would forcibly remove a mourning widow from her home? My stomach churns at the thought of such cruelty—and the lack of humanity these men and women have come to expect.
“Right. I’ll be sure to stop by.”
I bow to the men. “Thank you all for your time. You’ve been so helpful in showing me how the mine operates. I hope to come again.”
“Do that, Your Highness,” one of the men says as we begin our ascent back to the surface.