Chapter 28
When I crack the office door the next morning, I still hope to see Alaris seated at his desk, ringed fingers folded in front of his mouth. But his chair is empty. The lump in my chest grows heavier. It’s too late to beg him to stay. Not that I would have a good reason he should, anyway.
Dashol arrives a moment later holding two cups. He kicks the door shut behind him. “Morning! I hear you’ve joined team kill the emperor and stop the wither. Happy to have you!”
Dashol’s easy smile is familiar, but it’s jarring to see it paired with talk of treason.
I cringe as I accept one of the steaming cups. “Is it really safe to say that so loudly?”
“This office is warded against outside listeners. With the door closed, we can speak freely.”
Yesterday, he was just a friendly commander offering a helping hand with the hawks. Now he’s a co-conspirator. How many of the maids and footmen I pass are rebels too? How many think Alaris is visiting a cousin, and how many know he’s almost definitely not?
“Happy to be on the team.” I examine his face, trying to figure out if he still believes my name is Lyra. “What did Alaris tell you about me?”
“A few things…he told me you lived in the Citadel before. He told me to help you with anything you ask for while he’s gone. And to protect you with my life, although I think maybe I wasn’t supposed to say that last part.”
The view out the window is suddenly fascinating.
“Oh, and he told me to give you this!” Dashol rummages in his pocket. He opens his hand to reveal a black faceted stone: the voidstone, now dangling from a silver chain instead of the leather cord I cut.
After so long searching for it, hoping to see the gleaming stars on its surface in every drawer I opened, the sight of it stills my breath.
He holds it out to me. “He said you forgot it.”
“That isn’t mine.” Don’t sell yourself short. You did steal from me. A flush rushes over me as I remember what I did to get that off his neck. “But I’ll just keep it for him, for now.”
I hastily grab it and loop the chain over my head. I only hope that Dashol doesn’t recognize it or know where it came from.
Dashol downs his cup. “Then let’s get to work!”
He crosses the office to the narrow mirror set between bookshelves. I barely gave it a look when I searched this room, but now I know mirrors in this house aren’t always what they seem. “Is this…another way downstairs?”
“Yep.” Dashol grins. “Despite Alaris’s reputation, we can’t all be going in and out of his bedroom. Karns and I enter from here.”
He flattens his hand on the glass. Just like the one in the closet, ripples begin to spread. As soon as the surface is more liquid than solid, he turns his broad frame sideways and steps through.
I pause in front of my wavering reflection, picturing Alaris leaning over my shoulder.
So it knows you.
I’ve given him reason after reason not to trust me. I want to prove he made the right choice to accept my help. I tuck the voidstone under my shirt and clutch it through the fabric as I step through the magic glass.
The stairs come down past the weapon racks, on the far side of the war room from the ones I descended with Alaris. I catch up to Dashol as he wrestles a stack of papers onto the large central table.
He stubs his toe on something and swears under his breath. “I don’t know why he keeps it so dark in here,” Dashol grumbles. “Just because he’s the sovereign of night doesn’t mean he can see in the dark.”
I press my lips together to keep from laughing as he lights more lanterns and candles around the table.
“Our job is to check all existing maps and information about our way to the Flame.” He rustles through the papers, and spreads one in the center.
The flickering light reveals a map of the Citadel. The walls and buildings are marked up with ink of all colors. Some sections are dense with lines and notes. Others are nearly blank.
My eyes drift over it. “The Citadel is well defended. An army has never breached the walls.”
“Well that’s fine, because we don’t have an army.” Dashol taps the map. “Alaris worked on building up a larger force for years, but Vesper had a vision that a direct attack would fail.”
“Vesper…” I picture blonde hair and a dimple. “The one who made the mirrors?”
“That’s right. One of our few delvarian friends.”
“Okay, no army.” I study the sketch. “What’s the goal, then?”
“We want to get in a small force, twenty to thirty. There is no way we will avoid guards all the way to the Flame, so we need enough warriors to clash swords, but as few as possible to limit detection.”
Dashol says “we” a lot, but I think this time he’s including himself in the number. “You’re going to be one of those warriors?”
He cracks a crooked smile. “How could Alaris lead a charge without his commander?”
Whatever information I give Dashol here today in this basement, he’ll be betting his life on tomorrow.
I stare at the map. Walls inside walls. Paths filtering through gates. Wide open plazas. The throne room sits at the center.
Twenty people have to get through all this without anyone raising an alarm?
“Can’t Vesper provide another prophecy? Tell you what will succeed or fail?”
Dashol shakes his head. “She is better with illusions than prophecy. She tries, from time to time, but the visions are too hazy. Anyone else who looks at our threads would see our plans.”
Good prophecies are clear, but even they aren’t a guarantee. One might be true today but shift tomorrow with new choices. The more moving parts, the less reliable the predictions, and a plan like this is a many-legged beast.
My eyes land on the chest in the corner. “What about the oraculi? Could they show a way to the Flame?”
“Sophiri’s magic shows only past and present truths. It can’t tell us how to do what has never been done before.”
“Ah…right.” I stare at the map for another moment. There are guards everywhere. I’ve never thought about how to get around them before. “I can’t think of a single way to get to the Flame.”
Dashol laughs. “If you came up with the answer in less than five minutes, I’d be worried, not impressed.
We don’t need you to come up with a plan.
We’ve got dozens of plans. I just need you to tell me what’s true so we can find the flaws.
” He takes a seat at the table and gestures for me to do the same.
“Let’s not start with the big problem of how to get all the way to the Flame.
Every wall, every plaza, every room…each is its own smaller problem. ”
“Alright then.” I take the seat he offers.
“What area are you most familiar with?”
“Here.” I point to the Sunrise Palace, tucked away next to the outer wall, far from the center.
My fingertip lingers on the tiny rectangle that must be my bedroom balcony, and the U shape the outer wall makes around our private garden. And I realize I know something Dashol doesn’t.
The tunnel that took me from the dried fountain in the garden to the temple in the city isn’t on the map.
My skin prickles as I open my mouth. The only people that tunnel was ever meant to protect were the royal residents. And Rinalda would burn me alive if she found out I even considered breathing a word of it.
“There’s a way through the outer wall over here, into this garden.” I pause. “I’d rather not share it unless it’s the only way.”
Dashol studies the wall. He sketches an arrow pointing in, with no further details. “This garden is far from the Central Palace, so it may not be the best approach. We’ll see if we need it.”
“I’ll start closer to the center then.” Before I lived in the Sunrise Palace, I lived in the Central Palace with my siblings, their children, the empress, and the empress pi mata.
It’s been ten years, and this aerial view of the building distorts the scale and shape of things.
“Can I just describe it to you, and you mark the map?”
“Absolutely.” He picks up a pencil. “Whenever you’re ready.”
I close my eyes. Some areas I can picture clearly, while others I remember through moments.
The time when I talked back to Jasper and had to hide in a storage closet next to the kitchens for hours.
Running from my little cousins after they realized I never countered their flames.
Hiding from my mother under beds and behind furniture as I got older, and my power still didn’t show.
One happy time when Rinalda let me into her room and brushed my hair.
Dashol asks questions that turn my jumble into facts. Hallways, exterior doors, balconies, windows. Bedrooms, sitting areas, and meeting rooms. How many maids and how many guards.
He marks the map as I go, the scratch of the pencil and my voice the only sounds.
I open my eyes to see a map significantly filled in with new lines. “Some of this might not be current,” I say. “It’s been a while since I lived in that part of the Citadel.”
Dashol is staring at me. “You know the Citadel, very, very well.”
I crack a small smile. It helps that I wasn’t allowed to leave it much. “Did Alaris tell you anything else, about my life before this? Before I cared for the hawks?”
“No, and you don’t have to explain it either.” Dashol pauses. “Alaris brings us new allies from across the continent. They all have their reasons for being in this fight. Besides, he has a sense about people, and I’ve never seen him proven wrong. He doesn’t invite just anyone down here.”
My chest swells, but I quickly remind myself: I haven’t earned this trust. This is just because of my station and access.
Dashol taps a seaward garden. “What about this area? Don’t spare a brick.”
By evening, I have walked him through the garden paths, the banquet hall, the route carriages take up from the river.
That night, I lie awake in the dark, listening.
All I can think about is the masked man.
Without Alaris’s shadowgates, the protections of walls and windows and locks feel like nothing at all.
None of it will be enough to stop him if he comes for me.