11. Esmira
ESMIRA
“ T hese are the smuggler tunnels,” Lyra explained, walking beside me as we navigated the curved passageway.
The air was dry and still, and I couldn’t help the suffocating feeling that we were somewhere deep underground, a place where none but the buried should tread. Dressed in traveler’s clothes, a cloak, a sack on my back, and a walking stick, the princess of earlier this year had all but vanished.
I’d expected that we’d leave by the front door and walk through the ruins and mist toward the Boundary, instead we continued deeper into the castle passageways, through locked doors, into tunnels.
Rydlin and Methrin walked ahead, Methrin carrying a torch to light the way while Rydlin leaned on his staff. Beside me, Lyra carried a smaller torch.
“Smuggler tunnels?” I asked. “I thought this place was built by Seer Isoule? What did she need to smuggle?”
“Oh.” Lyra laughed. “I didn’t mean her . I call these the smuggler tunnels, it’s what my father and I do.”
It dawned on me that I’d never asked what she and her father did, aside from hide and survive, but everyone’s life had a purpose.
“What do you smuggle?”
“People.” She paused, and then. “Do you want the truth? I’m aware it might be difficult for you to hear considering your father’s stance on magic.”
“My father’s views on magic are his own,” I said, although a quiet voice within reminded me that not too long ago I would have blindly agreed with all my father’s laws without asking questions.
“As you are aware, many people across the kingdom have magic.”
I nodded, filling in the rest. “They are hunted by the Venators. Those with Mirror Magic, executed.” I swallowed hard as the memory of knives sinking into flesh rose. “Those with other magic are brought to the Boundary, to strengthen it.”
“There’s more,” Lyra said. “Many with magic flee for their lives, because the academy is brutal, they are ill-treated, forced into labor. We have a secret network, inviting those with magic to come here for safety. But they can’t stay here because too much magic in one place attracts the Venators.”
Too much magic in one place. I tilted my head, studying Lyra with fresh eyes. “You have magic,” I breathed .
She smiled but a sadness clung to her. “I am my father’s daughter.”
I worried my lower lip between my teeth. Lyra was evasive with some questions, we’d never discussed what happened to her mother. “Is magic passed through the bloodline?”
“It’s tricky. Scholars haven’t discovered how magic is passed from generation to generation.
At the academy, the Venators experiment with blood, and sometimes entire families are imprisoned there, just to see who manifests magic and who doesn’t.
Most of the time only one or two members of a magical family end up with magic.
More often, families who have never had magic suddenly have someone manifest.”
I started to piece together what she was telling me.
The Venators did far more than I imagined.
I felt sick at the very idea of what went on at the academy.
It wasn’t a place to teach magic but a prison camp.
“So those with magic find out about you and come here. How do you help them? Especially with the Boundary so close? I assumed the magic emitting from the Boundary protected the castle from being discovered.”
“I’d hoped so too, but the wolves come every night. You’ve heard them. It’s too risky. One day the Venators will come.”
“Can you stand and fight?”
Lyra squeezed my arm. “I like your spirit. It’s a common misunderstanding that just because someone has magic, they are trained in warfare.
The Venators are a trained army, hunters, they are good.
Very good. We are scattered, leaderless, and no one quite knows the extent of their power.
Think on it, if you were asked to stand and fight today, this very moment, what would you do? ”
Shame crept around me. “I don’t know what Mirror Magic is nor how to use it. I’ve seen what Methrin—Prince Methrin has done with his but I’m not sure I’d be able to do the same.”
“Many echo your words. I’d love to start a school, like Seer Isoule did, and teach those with magic how to use it, not to fear it, not to let it overwhelm and overcome them.
There is a danger to magic that few speak of.
If unchecked and untrained it is dangerous and leads to madness. Many lose themselves to magic.”
I shivered.
“I’ve done what I can, but there’s not enough time to teach and train. After one to two weeks here, my father and I guide those with magic through these tunnels, to the other side of the Boundary to start their new lives.”
My mouth went dry. “With the beasts? Isn’t that a death sentence?”
“It is challenging, but I believe the beasts are misunderstood. They are dangerous, yes, but think of the wolves and bears that live in the forest. The fear of them does not stop any from hunting or from going into the wood. You must be adequately prepared to fight or flee.”
“But they are much bigger and stronger than bears or wolves.”
“True. But life on the other side of the Boundary is better than torture and abuse and fear of execution. Sometimes though, I wonder if we are doing enough. If word is passing quickly enough: ‘If you wish to keep your life, escape through the tunnels and go where they are afraid to go, for the closer you are to danger, the further you are from death.’’’
My feet came to a stop and I pressed a hand to my heated cheeks as though I’d been slapped.
Those words.
The very same words the woman at the Night Market had spoken. I’d assumed she’d meant the tunnels underneath the palace, but what if she were speaking of this castle, the home of the sorcerer?
Lyra prodded my shoulder. “Esmira? What’s wrong?”
“Those words, I’d heard them before.”
Lyra’s eyes went wide. “You, too, heard the message,” she said in awe. “Who gave it to you?”
“I don’t know her name. It was at the Night Market, after . . .” I paused, the strange night coming back to me. “It was all very odd. I went with my cousin and we got separated. There was a booth full of mirrors, which should have been impossible since mirrors are outlawed.”
“Lest the Wicked Prince return, I’ve heard that sentiment,” Lyra said, a hint of bitterness in her tone. “What happened?”
“I saw a shadow behind the mirror, a world of mist and when I reached out to touch it, it shattered.”
“The mirror?”
“Yes. My hands were glowing, tingling, it was such an odd sensation. A woman—I assume she worked the booth—took me into the back and bound my cuts. She told me to flee the palace and gave me those words.”
“Was that all? Did she try to help you?”
“No I—I left because she knew my title and claimed she could not help me. Odd though, when I looked back her booth had vanished. I thought it was a joke for the Night Market is rumored to be full of tricks.”
“Odd indeed,” Lyra echoed. “Yet you got the message and now you’re here.”
“I have her to thank, because without her words, I never would have gone searching for the tunnels underneath the palace, nor would I have found Prince Methrin. Right now, I’d probably be . . .” I trailed off, refusing to even consider my own execution.
“I’m glad you’re here.” Lyra touched my arm, encouraging me to keep walking.
“Me too,” I echoed, the words stated with a sincerity that surprised even myself.
I was grateful to be alive, and while the circumstances were not ideal, I’d escaped.
I’d been saved from the Venators and perhaps even from a fate similar to my mothers.
It occurred to me that I’d had very little opportunity to be grateful for my status or the ease that my title as daughter of the king gave me.
With everything I’d once known stripped away I became aware of tiny, insignificant necessities I’d once taken for granted.
The softness of fabric against my body, the feeling of a full belly, the relief of soaking in a hot bath and being able to scrub filth from my hair.
Lyra’s words meant more to me because friendship and trust did not come easy in the palace. Rhea was my closest friend, and it hurt to think of her. I hadn’t told her my hands were glowing because—like me—she was raised to believe the worst about those with magic.
Those with magic.
“Lyra, what magic do you have?”
She laughed lightly. “I’m so curious about you I often forget you might be curious about me. Yes, of course, I have Succor Magic.”
“What is it?”
“I am kind of a healer, not of the body but of mind. My magic brings inner peace, and calm, but it has its dangers too. My aura has a strong sway to influence others to like me, which is tempting because I’m lonely here.”
I recalled when I’d first met her, and she walked into the room, her presence felt warm, comfortable, like coming home. “How does it work? I think I’ve felt it.”
“It’s hard to hide, I’m often signaling my location with my aura, sometimes unintentionally. Remember the first night you were here? You heard the wolves outside in the mist and they frightened you. If I’d allowed my magic to spill over you, instead of fear you would have felt peace.”
I gave her a rueful smile. “It would have been comforting.”
“Yes, but you still would have known it was too dangerous to go out. Imagine if you didn’t know wolves were dangerous, you might have been curious, might have been drawn to go outside and . . .”
The light in her eyes diminished, and I wondered what she had battled .
“But I didn’t,” I encouraged.
Lyra shook herself. “That’s the danger of it though.
During the war, many with Succor Magic were rounded up and used to push back the beasts and force them behind the Boundary.
I often go to the Boundary, run my hands over the magic, feel the emotions of the creatures on the other side.
They are full of rage, frantic at being imprisoned. They want to be free.”