A Devious Brother (Remnants of the Fallen Kingdom #3)

Chapter 1

ASTRA

My heartbeat is so loud I fear it will echo on the cave walls. I need to think—quickly. Think, think, think, and find a way out of here. And yet all my mind wants to do is pass out, too exhausted from all that insane overuse of magic.

For a second, I yield to pointless hope and tell myself that this is nothing but a nightmare, an illusion, but I close and open my eyes and yet my vision doesn’t change.

I’m still here. In this strange cave. Facing a fae—or creature—who was “killed” three hundred years ago.

The Witch King.

The only light in the cave comes from two large lightstones on either side of his strange throne, casting a glow behind his purplish-black hair.

Hundreds of ghouls surround me and Azur, their faces expressionless, empty, in those bodies made of mud.

When I try to reach out to them with my thoughts, all I get is nothingness, or perhaps an impenetrable wall.

It’s as if that moment in the forest, when the ghouls guided me, was an illusion, a figment of my imagination, except that I know it was real.

Something changed, and I’m sure it has to do with the awakening of the Witch King.

I don’t know how much I managed to convince him that I’m his dutiful relative, here to free him. Sooner or later, he’ll realize I’m not his ally, and I need to find a way to escape before that.

The question is how.

Beside me, Azur stands straight, chin high, his long, blond hair loose under his black hat.

Apparently, he’s unaffected by the astounding magic he just performed to save the Crystal Castle.

I don’t know how he hasn’t collapsed, how he’s even standing, how he had the strength to pull me with him and even carry me.

I also helped transcend the Crystal Castle, after drinking a drop of Azur’s blood—but I passed out from magic fatigue.

And we ended up here, in the Witch King’s prison.

Azur told me to trust him, sure, and he can’t lie, but then he also said that he’s the king of the Nether Court, whose family pledged loyalty to the Witch King. Not only that, he stated that his goal is to destroy the Crystal Court.

Marlak’s court. Technically, my court too.

Azur might have no interest in harming me, but I’m not sure I can truly count on him as an ally.

Would he help me defeat the Witch King? At least prevent him from escaping this cave? I don’t know.

Not that I have any plan of my own, having no idea how to defeat the Witch King, let alone escaping this place alive.

I suppose that if I were to harm him, the hundreds of ghouls surrounding us would retaliate.

I truly can’t reach them, and I think it’s because the Witch King’s thrall suppresses mine.

His dark, beady eyes settle on me.

“Are you going to stand there all night?”

I focus on my breathing to keep it steady while I make sure my shoulders and arms are relaxed, so that he doesn’t see me trembling.

As I’m figuring out how to answer his question, Azur says, “A bed would be preferable, Your Majesty.”

Is he nuts?

The Witch King smiles. “A bed, you say?” His tone is quite cheerful for someone who woke up from a forced three-hundred-year slumber. “And how would you like it? With feather pillows? Satin sheets? Perhaps you’d also like a bath, dinner?”

His smirk and glare are the only cues that he’s being sarcastic. A chill creeps up my spine.

Azur lowers his head. “Just a place to sleep, so that our magic is replenished. The enchantment binding Your Majesty to this cave requires strong power to be broken.”

I think—or at least hope—he’s trying to gain time for us so we can find a solution, a way to escape, at least.

The Witch King stares Azur up and down, a haughty expression on his face, then turns to me.

“I don’t need both of you. Whoever frees me first…” He gives me a broad smile and then faces Azur. “Gets to live.”

His threat feels like ice covering my skin. The jovial way he says it makes his words even more chilling.

Azur chuckles. “Doesn’t change the fact that feats of a certain caliber can’t be done under magic fatigue.”

That’s a vague, meaningless statement, suggesting that we need to replenish our magic in order to free the Witch King.

It’s true that we are drained after transcending the castle, but I don’t have the slightest inkling on how to free anyone from this place, and I wouldn’t release my sinister ancestor even if I knew how to do it.

Eventually, he’ll realize we didn’t come here to free him, but I suppose we can postpone this moment.

Until when?

The Witch King raises a long-nailed finger to his chin. “You test my patience. My goodwill. I might get bored and decide to carve an eye out of one of you if you take too long.” He tilts his head and makes me think of a pigeon. “Whose eye first?”

“We’ll free you first.” I manage to sound confident. “And stand by your side.”

“Yes, yes.” The Witch King stares at his hand, then back at us, one of his dark eyebrows raised. “Can you at least feel it?”

I don’t know what he means, and I’m afraid to ask.

“The magic imprisoning Your Majesty,” Azur says. “It’s here, yes. Strong, but breakable.” Can Azur feel it? Or did he deduce the answer the Witch King wanted? He didn’t say he felt it.

“All magic is breakable.” The Witch King snaps his fingers. “I have something to show you.”

Two ghouls approach us, and I have to force myself not to recoil at their proximity.

“Follow them,” the Witch King says.

I swallow a sigh of relief as I realize the grisly creatures aren’t about to chain us or anything of the sort, and yet I don’t know where this self-proclaimed king plans to take us, what he plans to do to us, and I don’t know if being his descendant will protect me or doom me.

All I can do is pay attention, watch, and hold on to the hope that I’ll find a way out.

The two ghouls walk to the back of the cave, and Azur and I follow. I sense heavy steps behind us, and even without looking, know that the Witch King is trailing us, like some putrid smoke with a distinctive stench.

The other ghouls stand still, watching. I take a better look at the cave and see two columns, one of them with an unfinished carving at the bottom, looking like a four-legged animal like a dog or wolf. It reminds me of…

The Tiurian sanctuary. If I linger on the memory of the morning I spent there with Marlak, my chest will crumble like paper, aching to reunite with my husband. I push away those thoughts and focus on the cave.

This must be a partially built Tiurian sanctuary, perhaps abandoned once it became a magical prison. Everything about this place is Tiurian, and I suppose I’d feel that strange sense of familiarity if it wasn’t for the circumstances.

The dreadful mud creatures enter a tunnel, the light from the stones fading behind us. I can still feel my own light magic, despite my exhaustion, but I don’t want to use it.

At least not yet.

Instead, I follow the creatures in this semi-darkness, barely able to see anything, even as my eyes adjust to the lack of light.

Azur walks beside me, my shoulder touching his arm as the tunnel gets narrower, his presence an odd grounding comfort in this horrific place. Our distance from the ghouls ahead of us increases as we step carefully on the uneven ground sloping upward, probably towards the exit of this cave.

Is leaving here as simple as walking out? If it is, why did Azur mention needing magic to free the Witch King?

The two creatures are far ahead of us when faint rays of light reach us from the opening, likely from the moon and stars outside.

My feet feel heavy, my stomach contorted, my chest tight.

Outside. We’re that close.

I recall when the giants took Nelsin—and their plea.

Stop. Don’t let it break. Don’t let it get out.

They wanted me to stop whatever was underneath the earth, trying to escape. Now I know what it was: the Witch King. And yet now we’re this close to the surface. If he escapes, will the giants kill Nelsin? A chill covers my skin. I can’t let it happen.

After a few more steps, something touches my head; an odd filament, like some kind of spiderweb. I’m about to push it aside, when strong fingers wrap my elbow and squeeze so hard it hurts. Azur’s fingers. I don’t dare glance at him, but I think I understand what he means, and stop.

I realize then that the filaments are made of a dim light, with some type of faint magic emanating from them. On oddly pleasant magic that feels familiar somehow—and yet so thin. Is this flimsy thing all that’s keeping the menace in this cave contained?

That won’t hold forever. And if even the ghouls can cross it, it can’t be such a powerful barrier. I wonder if Azur knows more about this magic and how it works, but I can’t ask him right now.

“Something wrong?” The Witch King’s grating voice is like a nail digging deep into my back.

I turn to face him, and so does Azur. The long second of silence hanging between us is enough to tell me that my alleged ally isn’t about to utter any word.

“There’s something,” I say. “Blocking the tunnel.”

I’m not sure if that thing is really blocking it, but if Azur made me stop, it was for a reason, and I’m assuming it’s because those filaments have some magic preventing the Witch King from escaping.

The ancient fae is shrouded in darkness, and yet I can sense his eyes glaring at me. “Surely it’s nothing for the Tiurian heir.”

“Maybe.” I turn back and place my hand on those filaments. I can feel now that they form magical bars, except that I’m sure I could cross them more easily than stepping through thick foliage.

Shutting my eyes tight as if making an effort, I say, “Not a major hurdle, no. But it… burns.” I pull my hand and step back.

“Repels me.” Even with my back to the Witch King, I can feel his displeasure, and decide I need to give him some hope.

“But if my magic was stronger… Tomorrow I can try again. It feels…” I sigh.

“If I had more magic, I think I could open this.”

I turn and face the Witch King.