Chapter Twenty-Eight
The air in the stone corridor thickened as a chill skated over my skin.
“You do realize that there were so many possibilities before you arrived.” Her voice was cold and cutting.
“I even toyed with luring your mother off her cruise ship and taunting her with a little shadow magic, but I knew she would be too frightened to play.” She turned around and her eyes fastened onto mine. “But you…”
I hated that her sentence didn’t need to be finished to know what she was implying.
“I’m not here to help your fantasies come true.”
A wicked grin flashed onto her face. “You sound just like your mother when she came here until she just…stopped talking.” Her cold, slender finger slithered under my chin as a sharpened nail pressed into my flesh, and she raised my gaze to look at hers.
“But I have plans for you, Maeve. You were always meant to be the one who…”
My gaze sparked anger. “Who what?”
“Wanted to look past the obvious…wanted to seek the truth behind Gideon’s wants and desires. Wanted to believe there were other reasons for people’s actions. That, my dear granddaughter, is meant for a greater purpose than ushering students through an Academy.”
Nausea flooded me, but I refused to let her see it. I needed answers. It would be the only way we would end this once and for all. I needed to pretend I was curious.
The Priestess turned and continued down the corridor as if she hadn’t just pressed poison under my chin and called it a family conversation.
The compound had settled since everyone left, but settled didn’t mean peaceful. It meant watchful. It meant every stone knew I was here as I followed.
The floor beneath my boots held a faint vibration, low and steady, almost like the hum of the Academy when it was thinking. I couldn’t help but shake the thought that this place was also filled with some sort of energy, but who directed it? The Priestess alone?
But Shadowick’s compound definitely had a pulse. There was no denying it.
The corridor curved left and then right, but we hadn’t passed windows for several minutes. Had she already had enough of me and wanted to put me in the dungeon?
Celeste was safe.
Keegan had her.
My mom was alive.
My dad was with her.
I repeated that in my head until the words became a rhythm that kept me walking.
The Priestess glanced back at me, and I immediately hated that she looked amused.
“You are remarkably loud for someone saying nothing.” She laughed to herself, and my stomach knotted.
“Funny. I was thinking the same about you.” My retort didn’t exactly land how I’d hoped.
Her smile spread slowly. “I do enjoy you.”
I snorted in disgust. “I wish I could return the sentiment.”
She stopped and turned to face me. “You might someday.”
“I won’t.”
She continued walking. “You’re very certain for a woman who has only heard one side of history.”
There it was again.
The hook that could snag me into her web of lies. I followed quickly to catch up as she came upon a corridor that opened into a wide landing with three staircases.
One curved upward, one dropped sharply into darkness where blue sconces burned low and uneven, and the third stretched low, only a few steps down to a landing that led to iron doors.
My pulse pounded as I stared ahead. I recognized the doors from when I’d found Gideon. My shadow mark nudged me forward, but I remained still.
Her right brow lifted. “You remember this place.”
“I’ve never been here.”
“Don’t lie. I know you were the one who rescued Gideon,” she said coyly, turning toward the iron doors. “Pieces of your magic were left behind.”
I couldn’t hide the surprise that crossed my expression.
“Oh, is that another little thing no one told you?” Her smile widened. “We all leave a little bit of ourselves behind when we use magic.”
My hands curled at my sides.
The Priestess drifted toward a door with irritating elegance and brushed her fingers along the frame. The iron groaned in response, but the door didn’t open.
“Your mother stayed just behind here,” she said. “Briefly.”
My jaw tightened until it hurt, and I stared ahead.
“She was really unhelpful.” The Priestess sighed, sounding almost bored. “I’d hoped time might harden her or, at the very least, make her interesting. Sadly, she remained frightened, indignant, and shockingly committed to misunderstanding everything.”
“I think she understood more than you know.”
She turned to face me. “I hope the same doesn’t come of you, but I feel like you might have a little kick in you yet,”
“Well, being kidnapped tends to make people less receptive,” I told her.
“She wasn’t kidnapped. She came on her own.”
“You should hear yourself sometimes.” I shook my head. “You obviously wouldn’t let her leave.”
“I have.” She smiled faintly. “My voice carries beautifully. And your mother foolishly thought she could trick me. Once she realized she was wrong, I made it clear she shouldn’t leave. That’s not kidnapping.”
I stepped closer to the door, though I didn’t touch it. The air around it felt stale, heavy with the kind of fear that clung even after the person had been removed.
My mother had been here in this cold little cell.
The same one where Gideon had been locked away.
“How poetic, don’t you think?” the Priestess asked, as if reading the thought from my face. “Gideon occupied this space before her. He paced. Brooded. Whispered threats. Very dramatic. Your mother mostly sat in the corner, silent and far less entertaining.”
I turned toward her slowly.
“Careful.”
Her brows lifted, and for a moment, she looked pleased.
“Or what, Maeve?”
That was the terrible part.
At that exact moment, I didn’t know. I felt like one big, empty threat, and all I could do with my time was try to learn.
And that had to count for something.
My shadow mark had changed again as we neared the cells. It felt almost as if the mark recognized this corridor and wanted me to press my palm against every door until it found what it was looking for.
I didn’t trust it.
I didn’t trust anything in this place that felt like recognition.
A low scrape sounded somewhere below us, and I froze.
The Priestess didn’t even flinch.
Another sound followed the noise, along with a muffled groan.
A thin laugh crawled right up my spine from somewhere below, and my gaze shot to the staircase descending into the lower darkness.
“What was that?”
The Priestess’ smile faded into something colder. “Necessary containment.”
The sound came again with metal dragged over stone.
A voice muttered in a language I didn’t understand. It sounded like a different voice answered with a wet, broken chuckle.
Fear etched itself through me before I could hide it.
The Priestess turned slightly, her gaze following mine to the descending stairs. “Those are not for guests.”
“Who are they for?”
“The cruelest of the cruel of Shadowick.” She said it almost pleasantly. “Even shadow villages have their limits, my beautiful granddaughter.”
Maybe terrible things were kept beneath this compound, but the way she spoke of limits, as if she alone defined them, told me to be careful.
“Who decides what the threshold for evil is?”
She looked surprised. “I do.”
“Of course you do.” I let out a deep breath, wondering why I’d even asked. It wasn’t like Shadowick was built on democracy or majority rule.
“You disapprove.” She eyed me coolly.
I shrugged. “I’m just noticing a theme. That’s all.”
“Shadowick survived because I made difficult decisions when others chose sentiment and laziness.” She laughed. “If I hadn’t made rules, they wouldn’t have stood a chance.”
The scraping below stopped, and the silence that followed made my skin prickle worse than the sound had.
I glanced toward the stairs again and made a mental note I would never write down.
Lower level.
Prisoners.
Maybe monsters.
Maybe people she renamed monsters.
The Priestess stepped in front of the stairwell, blocking my view as if my curiosity offended her.
“You’re not ready for that level.” She slid her index finger under my chin like she had one other time and lifted my gaze to hers. “And you might never be.”
“Then why bring me here?” I asked, craning my head away from her touch.
“To show you mercy looks different depending on where one stands.” She said it as if it were the most obvious answer yet. I could have disposed of those heathens, but I offered them life.”
I looked toward the cell door again. “Is that what you call this?”
“It kept your mother alive.”
“She didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Are you sure about that?” she asked, pressing her lips together.
My breath caught, and I hated that she saw it.
The iron doors along the corridor rattled faintly, one after another, though nothing touched them. The Priestess lifted one hand, and they stilled immediately.
Control.
Always control.
I filed that away too.
The doors obeyed her gesture, but the sound had started without her. The cells responded to something. My mark, maybe? Or the compound. Or whatever lived in the levels beneath us.
“You’re making a mental list,” she said. “Notes of things you think will be useful or that you want to explore.”
I looked at her. “What?”
“In your head.” She moved closer, studying my face. “Doors. Sounds. Touch points. Ways out. Weaknesses. I recognize it.”
My stomach tightened at the revelation. I knew my face was an open book, but I didn’t think I was being obvious in the least bit.
She laughed softly. “Good. I would have been disappointed otherwise.”
“I’m merely trying to decide where you keep your guest towels.”
The compound pulsed beneath us, and my shadow mark warmed in a slow, unsettling rhythm. It wasn’t only reacting to the Priestess now. It seemed to react to the building itself.
The silver veins in the walls glowed faintly, and the Priestess seemed to notice that before I did.
For the first time since we’d been together, uncertainty flickered in her expression.
It was tiny, but I caught it.
I looked at the wall, then back at her. “Is something wrong?”
“No.”
I shifted my weight slightly, letting my fingers brush the stone beside me.
The mark beneath my clothes flared at the contact, but the pain didn’t spread. It sank inward, pulling something up from the wall.
It was almost like a memory. It wasn’t clear at all and felt more like a sensation, maybe.
Someone was standing in this corridor.
Angry and young…Gideon, maybe?
I felt a hand slamming against iron and heard the remnants of the Priestess’ voice, softer than it was now, promising something she never intended to give.
I pulled my hand away quickly.
“What did you feel?” she asked.
“Dust.”
“Lie better,” she demanded.
“For whose sake?”
The corner of her mouth lifted, but her eyes stayed on the wall. “You’re more like me than you want to admit.”
Whatever the mark was doing, it wasn’t behaving exactly the way she intended. That much I was coming to understand, and I knew that mattered.
The scraping below resumed, louder this time, followed by a sharp clang that made one of the iron doors tremble. My pulse jumped despite every attempt to stay calm.
A voice drifted up from the lower staircase.
“Priestess.” The word was drawn out, almost sung.
The Priestess went very still, and this time, she didn’t look amused.
I looked from her down the corridor.
“Cruelest of the cruel?” I asked quietly.
For a moment, the air between us seemed to tighten, and a voice below laughed again.
“New blood,” it called softly. “I smell new blood.”
My skin went cold, and the Priestess lifted her hand.
“And you wanted to tell me that I was wrong for locking them up and throwing away the key?”
It went silent below as my heart hammered in my chest. Maybe I’d jumped to conclusions about who was below.
Or was that just what she wanted me to think?
The Priestess turned away as if nothing had happened. “Come. You’ve seen enough of the cells.”
“I disagree.” I shook my head. “I want to see who is down there.”
“I’m sure you do.” She straightened, and her wicked gaze met mine. “Did that question not tell you enough?”
And I realized I would not be able to see it today with her assistance. I would have to find it on my own.
She moved toward the upward staircase now, and the branch-like railing uncurled as she neared it.
I glanced once more at where my mother and Gideon had been kept, fighting the urge to press my palm to it and pull every memory from the stone. hedge magic had its use, but not when the Priestess was standing a yard away.
There would be time.
I had to believe there would be time.
The Priestess led me into a long hall filled with glass cases, and inside them sat artifacts, some beautiful, while others were broken.
I spotted a cracked wand wrapped in silver wire next to what looked like a feather made of black crystal. There was a bowl filled with water that reflected a sky that wasn’t our own.
I wanted to stop at every case, but I didn’t.
A glance and a mental note were all I’d allow myself. I didn’t want to give my grandmother any idea of what may or may not interest me.
Her smile returned. “There is that Stonewick certainty again. You think you can hold back your curiosity from me.”
“There is that Shadowick deflection again.” Her gaze met mine.
She actually laughed.
At the end of the hall, double doors opened onto a balcony overlooking the inner courtyard. From here, I could see the damage from the battle more clearly. The Priestess stood beside me and looked over the courtyard as if admiring a garden after a storm.
“They fought well,” she said.
“They always do.”
“Because of you?” the Priestess asked.
“Because of hope.”
She glanced at me and folded her arms over her chest. “You give power away too easily. You don’t value what you’ve already commanded from those people who came here.”
“Those people are kind, loyal, and wish for a better way,” I said softly. “I’m not giving away power because it’s not mine to offer.”
I wrapped my arms around myself and kept looking out over the dark grounds.
Somewhere beyond the walls, Keegan was taking Celeste home.
My mom was alive.
My dad had her.
Twobble gave me something for when the time was right.
And in the meantime, I would learn every inch of this place.
Every door. Every sound. Every lie she told and every truth she accidentally let slip.
Then I would go home.
The Priestess rested her hands on the balcony rail and looked out over Shadowick.
“Tomorrow,” she said, “you’ll see the village.”
I kept my gaze on the open gate.
“And tonight?”
“Tonight, you rest.”
I almost smiled, knowing there was no way in any realm I would sleep under her roof.
But I nodded anyway, because sometimes survival looked like obedience from a distance.