Chapter Thirty-Three
Thirty-Three
Break
The darkness of the tunnels barely had enough light for Aoife to see two steps in front of her.
Kesra held the map showing the way forward and Shadach held the light.
Aoife stayed a step behind, since there was only enough room for two people to walk side-by-side.
Aoife had been a third wheel before but never quite like this.
It was just as well. She would be gone soon, anyway.
Aoife guessed they were somewhere beneath the Emperor’s City. They were far enough underground that no sounds from the city overhead could be heard. There was only the darkness, the dirt, and the continuous conversation in Halcin between Kesra and Shadach that Aoife did not understand.
Shadach looked back at her and her heart skipped despite herself.
She smiled. Despite herself. He turned back without so much as a ghost of a smile.
Aoife’s heart dropped to her stomach, but it shouldn’t have.
This romance between them needed to end.
Soon. Still. Why was he being like this?
No matter what decision she had made regarding their relationship, she was still going to see him succeed.
She was still going to make sure he sat on that throne.
How could she not? She had been so scared when Shadach had nearly died.
It had been a vivid, if not cruel, reminder of how strong her feelings were for him.
Aoife hissed through a stab of pain as she stepped in a small hole, the force of it jolting her ribs.
She’d gotten off easy compared to Shadach and Kesra, but her body still ached, her chest and ribs still black and blue.
It had been nothing short of miraculous that she had found those Halcin and gotten help.
She was beginning to think the God might actually exist. How else could one explain such a stroke of luck?
Aoife winced again as a small stumble sent a fresh, nauseating wave of pain through her.
She just had to push through a little longer.
Then she would find a way back to Earth and back to proper medical care.
Shadach and Kesra stopped suddenly, causing Aoife to almost bump into Shadach’s back. When he glanced at her, he almost looked annoyed. Did he know? Did he know what she had decided? That she planned to leave? It was for the best, though. The only right choice. Her desires could not be trusted.
“Now, we go up,” Kesra said, glancing at the map then glancing at what looked like an entirely unstable ladder leading to the surface. Aoife had to pinch herself. Kesra had actually used Selatian.
“Where does it come out?” Shadach said, seeming a bit confused but following suit.
“The temple.”
“This ladder just so happens to lead us to exactly the place we want to go? That feels like a trap, it’s too easy.” Shadach glanced at Aoife. As if she’d had something to do with the hundreds-of-years-old ladder being there.
Kesra shrugged, climbing the first rung. “Sometimes shit’s easy.”
~*~
The hallway was quiet. Empty. Aoife wondered if that was how it should have been. If this should have made her worry. The ladder in the tunnels had led to a storeroom and that storeroom had led to an empty hallway.
“Where in the temple are we?” Aoife said.
Nobody answered. Shadach and Kesra were discussing something in hushed whispers.
Aoife heard the name “Deydra,” the priestess Tafana had believed would help them.
This temple was corrupt, after all. The will of the God was not respected and it would have to be if Shadach was to become Emperor.
Deydra was, hopefully, the woman to make that happen.
Shadach and Kesra moved down the hallway, silent as assassins.
Aoife followed behind, doing her best to be quiet, too.
Martial arts had taught her to fight, but it hadn’t necessarily taught her stealth.
The stone walls of the temple were cleaned to perfection, banners of maroon and gold decorating their path.
Some banners seemed to depict stories of the God while others contained religious designs and symbols. Or so Aoife guessed.
Another hushed conversation took place between Shadach and Kesra, Aoife’s heart racing at the thought of being discovered.
Would they be killed for their stupidity or lauded for their bravery?
Kesra led them to the left when the hallway split in two.
Did Kesra and Shadach even know where they were going?
They turned this way. They turned that way.
More hushed whispers. Then, they stopped at a door.
Simple. Unassuming. Shadach knocked and Aoife held her breath as they waited.
From the looks of things, Kesra was barely breathing either.
One second passed.
Two seconds passed.
Three seconds—
The door opened. A priestess stood in the doorway. She had eyes of faded green and a stare that could make a giant cower. Her long, purple robes fell to the floor, her alabaster skin revealed beneath the sheer layers. She looked from Kesra to Aoife to Shadach.
“I’ve been waiting for you.” She stepped back and motioned for them to enter.
“Deydra,” Shadach said once the door had closed.
“My Emperor,” she nodded.
They stood in what looked to be Deydra’s private quarters, an apartment with huge framed paintings, diamond candlesticks, and furniture that looked bespoke and handcrafted.
The God did not require vows of poverty, it seemed.
“Cutting things a little close, are you not?” Deydra poured four very full glasses of wine. Giving three to her guests, she drank down half of her own glass in one go. “Aristen’s crowning is tomorrow,” she said.
The crisp red liquid swayed in Aoife’s glass, the colour reminding her of all the blood Shadach had lost. Of how she had feared for his life. Of how she needed to stop caring so much.
Aoife sank into one of Deydra’s arm chairs, the cushion so big it could swallow her two times over.
She drank the wine in gulps as Deydra talked to Shadach in Selatian.
Finally, a language she understood, but it didn’t matter now.
She wasn’t listening. It didn’t much matter if she listened, did it?
Her role in this adventure was almost over.
“Is that all right with you, Aoife?” Deydra said.
Aoife snapped to attention, trying to straighten up, but failing because the chair was too soft. Deydra was holding out a piece of parchment paper and a quill with ink.
“Of course,” Aoife said. “Can you … tell me what you want me to write?”
Deydra tapped her slippered foot with impatience. “Your testimony. About the night Shadach was chosen. But don’t sign it yet, I need another priestess to witness it with me.”
“A signed statement?” Aoife tried, and failed, again to sit up properly. “I thought I had to testify in person.”
Deydra sighed. Apparently this had been covered while Aoife wasn’t listening. “You do. This is in case you don’t make it to tomorrow.”
Aoife had the sudden sensation of fangs gnawing at her spine.
“You write that down.” Deydra stood, setting her glass on a small, cherrywood-looking side table. “I’ll get another priestess who is a true believer.”
“I’ll come with you,” Kesra said.
“Forgive me, but you being seen with me will be the most suspicious thing anyone here has ever witnessed,” Deydra said.
“I just need some air.” There were Shadow-dark circles under Kesra’s eyes and her shoulders held a terrible slump.
Somehow, she was still beautiful. If that was how Kesra looked after their journey, Aoife couldn’t imagine what she herself looked like.
When was the last time she’d seen herself in a mirror?
Kesra glanced at Aoife then, an absent gesture as if Kesra were looking at Aoife but also looking right through her. For a flicker of a moment, Aoife thought she saw sadness in Kesra’s eyes. No, not sadness. Apology. What does Kesra have to apologise for?
“Just don’t be seen.” Deydra said then left. A moment later, Kesra left, too, the apology gone from her pale, tired face. Suddenly, Aoife and Shadach were alone for the first time since the waterfall.
“Kesra really shouldn’t be out there,” Aoife ventured. “If someone sees her, they might suspect you’re here, too.”
“Kesra will be fine.” Shadach took a long drink of wine, gripping the glass so hard Aoife thought it might shatter.
He seemed to be fighting with himself, trying to control his breath.
His jaw was as tight as his grip. Finally, after a few fractious breaths, he said, “Kesra wouldn’t put me in danger.
” There was a darkness, an anger in his tone that felt like a knock to Aoife’s stomach, the air punching out of her.
“What does that mean?” Aoife tried to keep her tone non-accusatory as she finally shoved herself free from the chair and its captive softness.
“It means Kesra wouldn’t put me in danger,” he said again. The anger in his words was so thick, his voice sounded more like a roar.
“What are you … do you think I would?” She sounded as shocked as she felt.
When Shadach answered, she barely knew the eyes looking back at her. “I know you would. Because you did, and you will again.”
Silence.
Aoife shook on the inside, her bones becoming paper-thin. “What?” Her voice was a whisper.
“The attack. You nearly killed us,” Shadach growled. “What’s your plan now? Are you going to kill me in my sleep? Or maybe you’ll just watch while someone else does it?”
“What are you talking about?” Aoife felt like she was drowning.
Why was he saying these things? Where would he even get an idea like that?
But even as she asked herself these questions a voice in her head screamed, you should have left sooner.
You knew your desires would turn to ruin. You waited too long.
“I know.” His eyes were made of vile things.
He knew. He knew what? That she was planning to leave? Was that the reason for all the anger? But her leaving was going to be for the best. He didn’t realise their relationship would have ended anyway, and ended terribly, no matter what he did. No matter what she did.
“I …” Aoife felt like her body was folding in on itself. She had never felt so insignificant. So small. “I wasn’t going to … not before you were on the throne.”
“Because that’s a better time to stab me in the back?
” Shadach’s cold, spiteful words tore at her like wolves shredding a hapless deer.
All teeth and fury and absolutely no mercy.
It was no better than what her inner voice was saying to her: you stupid girl, why did you let yourself go after what you wanted?
Why didn’t you listen to everyone else sooner?
“Shadach, I …”
“Get out,” he seethed.
She felt the tears coming. Felt her heart splitting. Felt the end careening towards her like a wingless plane hurtling towards the ground. She couldn’t stay to watch the carnage.
Aoife ran.
The temple passed her in a blur, her head feeling as if it weren’t attached to her.
Was she even breathing? She had to get away.
She knew their end had been close, but not now.
Not like this. Her knees started to shake when she reached the temple kitchens.
Or what used to be them. These ones looked long abandoned now, the stoves and countertops nothing but rubble and faded steel.
Aoife stopped, finally, holding herself up on the remains of a clay oven as the rotted pots and ladles stood witness to her deepest pain.
The tears came heavy and hot like scorching flames down her cheeks.
She sank to the floor, her tears drenching her chin, her hands, her clothes.
Her heart was cracking and she had no salve, no plaster to help her put it back together.
This was always how it was going to end, wasn’t it?
In tears and cruelty and pain. She never should have listened to her heart.
In the depths of her sadness, the words came to Aoife like a song. Plucked from memory and standing before her as vibrantly as if she had recited them that morning. She said them, quietly at first, and then louder. Louder and louder until she screamed them.
They came. With a hiss and a ripple of smoke flooding from the bottom, they became corporeal.
The Gates. Through her tears, Aoife saw them open to her, the inky blackness within whispering that, this time, they would play no tricks.
This time, they would take her home and they would not come to her again.
“Do you promise?” she asked them. A deep, sorrowful sigh breathed through the darkness.
Aoife stepped through the Gates.