Chapter 29
I wake to an impenetrable darkness, a muffled gasp tearing from my tortured throat. My body itches and burns, dried blood and cuts covering me. Any sense of time and place evades me. All I know is this room with its frigid stone walls.
The hard wood of the bed pressing against my back.
Cold metal at my throat.
Something firm across—
My hands fly to my face, clawing at the strange leather mask.
I can’t breathe.
“Starling,” a soft voice murmurs in the darkness, and I freeze.
The sound is too real, too close, but my mind rebels against it. My vision swims, shadows flickering at the edges, and the mask feels tighter, suffocating me.
Myna?
She kneels before me, her features soft and familiar, but something about her feels…wrong. Her edges blur, her movements too smooth, like a reflection in rippling water.
“Breathe,” she says, her voice steady, but it echoes strangely, as if the room itself is speaking.
I flinch at the flash of silver but then take a shuddering lungful of air as the mask falls free. It’s both sharp and sweet; a first breath taken after almost drowning. My chest tightens again as I stare at her.
You’re not real.
Her lips twitch into a faint smile. “I’m as real as you need me to be.”
Am I hallucinating again?
“Hallucinating?” Myna asks.
It’s the mad honey. Bittersweet, terrible aftertaste. But I think the hallucinations might be the worst.
My imaginary Myna curses, and I smile. I can imagine her reacting like that.
None of this is real.
“I’m very real, Starling.”
Then how do you know what I’m thinking?
“Because you’re thinking out loud.”
“Oh…” I stare at her a moment longer. She stares back.
Slowly, reality seeps in, like the first rays of morning light, forcing the veil of fog to lift from my mind. I inhale a long, shuddering breath. Reveling in the sheer relief that cascades through me.
Myna’s eyes darken as they take in my tortured body. “I’m sorry we didn’t find you sooner.”
“You stayed.” My words are broken as they leave me, giving voice to the hopelessness I’ve fallen into. “I told Nyssa I wanted you all to get away from here.”
“We couldn’t leave without you.”
“It’s what you’re supposed to do if someone is compromised.”
Myna’s eyes connect with mine, resolute and determined. “Not this time.”
I offer her a small smile but turn away as tears threaten to spill over. With each passing second, delirium fades further and my grasp on reality strengthens.
I almost wish it wouldn’t.
“I can pick the lock on the chain, but the collar will need to wait. Sparrow is standing watch in the hall.”
“Where’s Keres?”
“Neck-deep in wine and women.”
“Thank the fucking gods.”
Myna shifts closer, examining the collar and chain at my throat. “This might hurt a little.”
She goes quiet as she focuses on the lock, but instead of feeling comforting, the silence presses in on me. My breathing starts coming quicker, and my shoulders inch up as my mind spirals. Maybe this isn’t real. Maybe it is another hallucination—
“Is Nyssa okay?” I ask, my voice too loud in the quiet.
Myna winces but continues her examination of the lock. “She will be once we get you out of here. Now, hold still. We’re going to lose some of this jewelry.”
I offer her a small smile, knowing she’s attempting to lighten the mood. “The prince really does have garish taste.”
Myna hums in agreement as she gets to work on the lock. I hold my breath through the pain as the metal scrapes against my raw skin. Silence fills the room again, interrupted by the occasional rattle of the chain.
“What’s your real name, Myna?”
The words barely pass my lips before the lock clicks and the chain falls free, leaving only the collar in place. Myna places the chain on the ground beside me, as soundlessly as possible, watching me the whole time. I can see the question circling behind her shadowy eyes.
We sit in silence, both of us hovering on the edge of indecision, and I think she will not answer.
“Melantha.”
Another tiny smile curves across my lips. I fold her name up like a secret scribed on parchment and store it in the shallows of my soul. “Thank you, Melantha.”
She frowns, and I wonder how long it’s been since someone last called her by her name. “Can you stand?”
I grit my teeth and push myself to my feet. When I sway, she loops a hand around my waist.
“Lean on me as much as you need. Now, should we get out of this gods-damned palace?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
Slowly, we make our way through the dark rooms and into the empty hall beyond. Hardening my resolve, I push through the pain.
It’s nighttime. The world beyond the windows is dark, and the halls are lit only by the faint glow of auras lining the walls.
When we make it to the next hall, a shadow darts forward from an alcove, moving too fast for me to react in my weakened state.
Still, I lift my arm and pull it back, ready to swing.
Myna captures my wrist as the shadow collides with me.
Every part of my body burns from the impact, and I gasp in pain.
“Aella.” My name is a small, private whisper in my ear—dripping with fear and relief. But the sound of Nyssa’s voice is the sweetest one I’ve ever heard.
I wrap my arms around her, returning the embrace. Even as it burns my skin to do so. Even as it makes my chest constrict. The feeling lessens when she pulls back, cupping the sides of my face. Her eyes darken when she takes in the bloodied mess of my body.
“I’ll kill that fucking prince.” The violence in her voice has my throat tightening.
“I think you’ll have to get in line,” another voice says, and my blood turns to ice in my veins as Titaia steps from the shadows.
“It’s okay,” Myna says beside me when she senses my body tensing. “She’s the one who helped us get you out. The door to the room was marked to allow only those of Keres’s blood through. Just like the passage.”
My eyes dart back to Titaia’s face, noting the pallor of her usually glowing skin and grief pooling in her eyes. “I sought them out as soon as I realized you were missing and had not taken ill like Keres was leading the court to believe.”
Something in my chest warms at the realization that I’ve found a genuine friend in her. A beautiful bloom, standing tall in a field of rotting weeds. But then the usual panic sets in, my breath coming faster.
“What about you?” I ask. “Keres will realize someone from his family helped us escape.”
“I’m going north.” She hesitates before adding, “With a friend. But you don’t need to worry about that. You need to get out of here.”
I reach out, grasping her hand and giving it a squeeze. A slight gesture, but it’s all I can manage right now. “Thank you,” I say, holding her gaze so she can see how deeply I mean those words.
“We will meet again, Aella.” Titaia squeezes my hand back before spinning on her heel and hurrying down a shadowed corridor. I watch the darkness swallow her, praying to the gods she is right.
“What’s the plan?” I whisper as Myna and Nyssa lead me down the hall.
“Most of the court is asleep or at the prince’s party,” Myna replies. “We’ll head through the kitchens and take the servants’ sky-carriage down the mountain.”
I nod, a silent agreement passing between us.
The air feels heavier now, the tension unspoken but palpable.
We continue the rest of the way in silence, our footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor.
As we near the kitchens, the faint clatter of pots and the murmur of voices drift through the air, but we don’t slow down.
Instead, we pick up the pace, urgency driving us forward.
Finally, the door leading to the sky-carriages looms before us, its wooden framework casting long shadows in the dim light.
This is it—the threshold to whatever comes next. Freedom calls to me like a siren song, urging my feet to move faster despite the pain. Myna pulls the door open—and we all freeze.
A young servant stands similarly frozen in front of us, arm outstretched and eyes wide with shock.
Despite the signs of being a Goiteían—or being on the receiving end of Keres’s withering touch—she’s still so young. An innocent bystander in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Indecision wars in my gut, panic creeping in. But the fear etched into her face twists something deep in my chest.
“Please,” she whispers, her voice trembling.
I glance at Myna, tension rolling off her in waves. My heart pounds as I step forward, raising a hand. “We don’t want to hurt you,” I say, my voice shaking.
The servant takes a step back, her arm outstretched as if to shield herself.
“Incapacitate only,” I plead, turning to Myna.
Her jaw tightens, but she nods. The servant’s eyes widen further as Myna moves, swift and precise. I wince at the dull thud of her body hitting the ground, guilt clawing at me even as we move past her.
As we round the corner, my heart rate picks up at the sight of the single sky-carriage swaying in the wind. I scan the deck, and relief blooms in my chest when I see no other guards or servants.
Nyssa and I pile into the simple wooden carriage, nowhere near as elegant as the ones used by the rest of the court. I turn back to Myna, waiting for her to join us.
She doesn’t.
“Quickly,” I urge. “We’re running out of time.”
She makes no move to enter, instead closing the half door and taking a step away.
“Someone needs to pull the lever, Aella,” Nyssa says softly.
“What?” I turn to her as the horror of those words rattles inside my head.
I lunge for the door. My mind screams with terror as my body screams in protest, but I’m too late. Too weak.
The carriage jolts as the lever is pulled, and then begins to make its descent.
“What the fu—” I shout, but the rest of my words fail me as I watch Myna with wide eyes. She moves away from the ledge before sprinting toward it. I can’t hear past the roaring of blood in my ears, the pounding of my heart, as she kicks off from the marble.