Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
If someone tried to warn me about how many times I’ve almost died in the past few months, I wouldn’t have believed them. I would have scoffed, or rolled my eyes, ignoring them and moving on with my pre-planned, monotonous day.
I’d never been outside my castle walls, and didn’t expect that to change. I surely never anticipated living on the mythical island of Dawnlin, fighting to stay alive and searching for the healing waters to cure my mother.
Danger was not part of my reality in Blackwood, but danger is very real now.
It is especially real as I stand with a blade to my throat in the middle of a beach, surrounded by the Castaways, their weapons drawn and prepared to cause me harm.
As the future queen, my life had been filled with lessons on foreign relations and war strategies.
If I tried hard enough, I could hear Edmond reciting them, lecturing me in survival tactics in case of an ambush or a mutiny.
He made sure I knew the location of my safe room in the castle, and who to trust. Instructions on what to do if I was captured were repeated incessantly until I was sure it would never happen, and the time spent on it was wasted.
The masked woman who searched me moments ago stands in front of me, digging through her pockets, and my eyes track every movement.
I know the lessons I spent so much of my life hearing are somewhere deep inside my mind, but as she lifts a blindfold toward my face, my mind is as blank as a new sheet of parchment.
I remember nothing.
Not one lesson, not one piece of physical training that was drilled into me as I stand frozen, hands bound, and staring my dangerous reality in the face.
This isn’t the first time I’ve been captured on Dawnlin, but this is nothing like last time. My chest heaves with stuttering breaths as the rising fear threatens to suffocate me.
The first time, the fear dissipated quickly, the moment I realized it was actually Voyagers surrounding me, and I was in the midst of a huge misunderstanding. I knew I was safe, and everything would be easily corrected as soon as Dane returned.
This time, Dane is not returning, and I am not surrounded by Voyagers.
The Castaways are taking me captive, and no one once taken has ever returned.
“Let’s move,” Weston commands, and the statues around me snap into motion at his word.
“Close your eyes,” the woman says as she smoothes the rough cloth over my face, tying a tight knot at the back of my head and casting me in utter darkness.
With my vision gone, my other senses become heightened, and my focus returns. Edmond immediately appears in my mind, and I remember his most important instruction.
Quiet.
I need to be quiet and observe anything and everything about where I am being led, and who is around me.
My skin prickles as I feel someone hover over me, and I stiffen, trying not to move. Without my vision, I do not know who it is or how close they are until he speaks.
“Can you be trusted enough not to scream, princess?” Weston says, his low voice causing an involuntary shiver as his breath tickles my ear. “I have no problem gagging you if you try.”
Sealing my lips into a tight line, I don’t answer; I refuse to acknowledge him.
He doesn’t deserve it.
Dane warned me about Weston’s motives and manipulations back on my first day in Dawnlin. He wants the healing waters, and now I know where they are and how to get them. Another spike of terror shoots through me as I imagine the lengths he may go to for that information.
I do not know the amount of torture and abuse it takes to convince someone that everything they know is wrong, to turn them against their friends and the truth. Wherever they are taking me, whatever their plans are for me, I need to be prepared to endure it.
I gulp down the panic and focus on my breathing, remembering Edmond’s instruction to observe. I will endure everything else as it comes.
Shoulders press into mine on both sides as I am squeezed between two bodies, followed by fingers that wrap around each of my elbows to nudge me forward.
I stumble at the sudden movement, but the Castaways at my sides hold me upright, almost lifting me to drag my toes across the sand.
The complete darkness of the blindfold prevents me from seeing anything, with no clue where they are leading me, leaving me to blindly trust the enemies at my sides.
“Step up,” a woman says on my right, her voice the same as the woman who bound and blindfolded me.
I lift my foot and bring my boot down onto solid ground, then follow with the other, trying not to lose my balance despite their support. We take another few steps forward before pausing, and I jump at the loud slam behind us, followed by complete silence.
Gone are the crashing waves and rustling palm leaves from the beach, replaced by the shuffle of footsteps and sound of movement from the Castaways ahead of us.
“Keep walking,” the woman says softly, propelling me forward again with a gentle push of her shoulder.
I want to scream at her, to ask her why she is being kind and considerate to me, yet chose the side of a monster like Weston. I want to demand she release me and come back with me to the safety of Dane and the camp. I want to ask where she is taking me, and what they plan to do to me.
But I don’t.
I stay quiet, fighting the mixture of rage and panic inside of me, all while staying alert.
Footsteps echo around me, and the fabric of clothing swishes as I walk with them into the unknown. Someone clears their throat, but not a single person speaks. It’s almost as if they are trying not to give anything away, like they know I’m listening and cataloging every detail.
Dawnlin has never been this quiet before, and my mind races as I try to figure out where we are that all the noise would cease. It’s as if the island swallowed us, like when Mara and I fell into the trap on my first day of searching.
Like we are underground.
It has only been days since I watched Weston disappear into the wall of the cave, but the thought never occurred to me. I was too focused on finding Fin and on discovering that the Castaway who saved me was actually their leader, Weston. I didn’t see what was right in front of me.
Tunnels. The Castaways travel through underground tunnels. Which is why we can never find them, or any trace of them. Do they live underground too? Inside the heart of the island?
My spine straightens with a realization, and the fear I felt moments ago dissipates.
They are leading me straight to their base. If I survive and manage to escape, I will be the only one who knows how to find it, and I can tell Dane.
He can end the threat of the Castaways once and for all.
We keep walking, and I listen for any clues that might give away our location. The tunnel curves back and forth, with no distinct turns that I can memorize. Some movements seem so subtle, I can’t really tell what direction we are traveling. Completely turned around, my sense of direction is gone.
“Stop,” the woman says, as she and the other Castaway pull me to an abrupt halt.
We pause for only a moment before they nudge me forward again, and I feel the magic of a portal surround me.
How many portals are hidden on the island? And how do the Castaways find them?
The hands on my elbows fall away, and I wobble slightly. Trying to stay upright without my vision is difficult, and my balance is still off with my wrists lashed together.
Suddenly, I am hoisted into the air as firm, muscular arms hook under my knees and around my waist, carrying me forward.
“What the hell?” I screech as I try to wriggle free. The arms cinch down tighter, pushing me against a solid chest and holding me in place.
“Stop moving and be quiet. I said no screaming, remember?”
Weston.
“Fuck you,” I whisper loudly in the direction of his face.
A low chuckle takes me by surprise, and I can’t help the flutter in my abdomen at the sound.
“I can walk,” I whisper angrily again, pushing my legs downward, trying to break his grasp, but his arms don’t budge. He ignores my comment and keeps walking, taking me who knows where.
Then it dawns on me. My dagger is tucked into the front of his vest. If I can grab it, he’s close enough that I can seriously injure him, giving me enough of a distraction and some time to slice through of these binds and escape.
I still, hoping my lack of movement doesn’t draw his attention.
A few seconds pass before I slowly drift my bound hands toward his chest. The blindfold is so dense, I can’t see, but I know the dagger is in a slot near his heart.
I watched him put it there back on the beach once he removed it from my throat.
I only need to get close enough to grab the hilt.
My knuckles brush the leather ties of his vest as I creep closer.
Slowly, slowly, slowly.
My fingers itch to grasp the jeweled metal, trusting only my memory and having hope that I am right.
“Don’t even think about it, princess.”
I freeze, caught like a mouse in a trap.
Fuck.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I grumble.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He hitches me in his arms, the momentum shifting my body and flinging my hands away from his chest and back into my lap. “Keep your hands to yourself.”
I bristle at his words. It wasn’t a brilliant plan, but it was the best I could do in the moment, despite being so quickly thwarted.
Silence stretches between us again as I fume in his arms. I’d been so easily distracted by him hoisting me up unexpectedly and my attempt to get the dagger, I stopped paying attention to my surroundings, and the details that could help me find their camp.
Waves.
We are back on a beach.