Chapter 14
Arina
Afew days of rest, hot food, and that tea have me feeling almost back to normal. I could no longer sit stewing over my father’s lies in the deafening solitude of my chamber, so I begged Raiden to take me for a walk. To my surprise, he relented quite easily.
If only he would give me back my fucking dagger.
Hundreds of fae bustle about in the main hub of the Underground. A sunken area with many carved-out paths and ramps weaving deeper into the stone and dirt. It’s an entire town. A whole civilization. Not just rebel warriors, but women and children and even some older fae.
It’s as though they are all buzzing around me, making me feel dizzy and useless.
I’ve had too much time to ruminate on my next steps. If I run, they will find me. Besides, this place is a fucking maze. I’d be caught before even making it to the surface.
My only choice right now is to stay. I am uniquely positioned to infiltrate the Rhiza. Something no Lukasian soldier has been successful in, as far as I know.
Get them to trust me. Learn their ways. Tear them apart from the inside. And if I can’t do that, maybe I can at least bide my time until I have a better understanding of these damned tunnels. They have to let me up to the surface, eventually.
“Give me something to do,” I demand as we turn down a particularly crowded tunnel that smells heavenly. I’m going mad with so little to do, and I think I might die from boredom if I have to spend any more time in my room.
Raiden raises a dark brow at me, and his golden eyes dance with mischief.
Without speaking a word, he leads me just a few steps until we stop before a large wooden door, similar to the one outside the throne room, and he holds a hand up to me.
“You will not take your frustrations out on them. They’ve done nothing to you, and if you want a job to keep you busy, this will be the safest place for you.” It’s like he’s thought this through. Interesting.
“I didn’t intend to speak to anyone, anyway,” I snap. “I am capable of keeping my mouth shut.”
His eyes narrow to slits. “I didn’t say to keep your mouth shut. I was requesting you treat my friends with respect.”
The door swings open, and a light-haired male who can’t yet be of age startles at the sight of us. “Pardon, sir. May I get by?” he stammers to Raiden who backs away, leaving space for the boy to pass.
I move to enter the room, but Raiden’s arm blocks the door. The scent of fresh baked bread and the clattering of dishes reach me, pulling me in. But his stupid, muscular arm tenses, and I swear there’s a snarl waiting to be released from his throat.
“Fine,” I say.
“Fine?”
“I will be the epitome of respect.”
“Good.” He raises his arm for me to pass.
As suspected, the room is a massive kitchen. A crew of fae is assembling baskets of bread, root vegetables, and glass jars filled with different soups or jams. They talk and smile as they work, and I can’t remember the last time I saw such simple joy.
Raiden addresses one of the gray-haired females. “Breesha, this is Arina. She’s here to help.”
Breesha barely looks up from her chopping board.
“Thanks, Sir Raiden. We could use the extra set of hands, that’s for sure.” She wipes her hands on her apron and shuffles quickly over to us.
“Nice to meetchya, Arina.” She holds her hand out to me, and I’m shocked at how tolerant she is. Maybe she doesn’t know who I am. Maybe she wasn’t in the throne room.
I turn my head to look at Raiden, as if I’m asking his permission to touch her. He elbows me, forcing me forward as I mumble a greeting and gently shake her hand.
“Right. Well, what’re ya waitin’ for? Grab a basket. Fill it up. We’ve much to do, and I don’t have time to be coddlin’ the likes of you.” Breesha dismisses me to find a place in the assembly line.
I rush to obey, thankful for something mindless to keep my hands busy.
“I’ll be back in a few hours,” Raiden says. “Try to stay out of trouble?”
I stick my tongue out at him, and the sound of his soft chuckle lingers as the door swings closed behind him.
The kitchen is soothing even though it’s a constant ebb and flow of total chaos. It’s a welcome distraction from stewing in my room about my father. I’m not ready to face him. Facing him means facing all the pain his leaving caused, and I would rather keep that buried.
A few Rhiza females assemble the baskets, while others come and go, taking full baskets out and returning with empty baskets over and over again.
I find a spot at an empty table and begin packing. It doesn’t take me long to get into a rhythm. Wrap a piece of bread in a white cloth, fill a large jar with stew, add in a glass bottle of clean water. There are also pieces of fresh produce for each basket, and I wonder where they’re growing it.
All kinds of goods are being prepared and cooked over fires that must be vented somehow because no smoke fills the space, even when one of the younger-looking cooks leaves her bread in the fire a little too long.
Breesha doesn’t scold the girl, and it makes me like her a little bit more.
The fact that I’m not choking on the smoke that should be swirling in the air from the burnt loaf makes me wonder how close we are to the surface.
I quietly pack baskets, marveling over their bountiful supply of food and trying not to drool, while simultaneously observing and listening to their conversations for any tidbit of useful information I can get.
I’m in a groove with my baskets when I notice the room goes quiet. When I look up, the bitch from the throne room is standing in the middle of the kitchen, arms crossed, burning a hole through me with her cold, gray eyes.
“What the hells is she doing here, Breesha?” Shreya snarls.
Breesha only shrugs, too busy to care. “Raiden’s only just brought her to help us, miss. If you have a problem, I’d take that up with him.”
Shreya tucks a wavy wisp of bright-white hair behind her ear as she studies me, looking me up and down.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Can I help you?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Can you drop dead?” she asks, and I stalk toward her, ready to swing.
I can’t help myself. The female is just begging to catch my fist with her face.
“What the fuck is your problem?” I demand, my face inches from hers. I try not to think about how damned good it would feel to hit her. “Do you think I asked to be here? You think I want to be here?”
She doesn’t flinch, but there is rage boiling just below the surface when she speaks, “My problem is you killed my mate. Because of you, I am no longer whole. And I will return the favor.”
Godsdamnit. Her words stun me, and I can’t bring myself to respond. Thankfully, Breesha steps in for me, resting her hands on her hips as she places herself in the small space between me and the angry rebel.
“That’s enough, Shreya. If you aren’t here to help, you need to get out of my kitchen.” She points one aged finger to the door.
Shreya holds her ground for a long moment, likely considering if charging over the older fae to reach me would be worth the consequences she might face.
She must decide against it, because she peeks around Breesha to snarl at me while backing toward the door.
“Do you know what happens when your mate dies?” I shake my head, looking at a spot on the floor.
“This isn’t over. Watch your back, healer bitch.
” I wince when the door slams, shaking the utensils that hang on a rack over the fire nearest the door.
I release a breath after she disappears and return to my work. Looking to the ceiling for a moment, I attempt to blink back the tears that sneak up on me, but it’s no use.
This is all so overwhelming. My father. Being stuck beneath the earth with people who are so frank about preferring me dead. Not knowing if I’ll ever see Phillipa again. Murdering that rebel. Fuck. I’m a murderer.
My clothes become too tight, and I can’t catch my breath, but a soothing, gentle hand lightly grazes my shoulder.
“Don’t pay no mind to her,” Breesha coos. Something about her feels so safe, and I fight the urge to sink into her comfort, returning to my work as a distraction.
If I don’t pull my shit together, I am useless to my people.
When I collect myself, I turn to her and ask, “Who are the baskets for?”
“We distribute them throughout the colony. Everyone contributes. Everyone has a job. Everyone gets fed.”
They’re so much more civilized than I envisioned. Nothing like the monsters I always thought had stolen my father from me.
“This is nothing like what I expected,” I say. “You all are nothing like what I expected.”
“Things aren’t always as they seem, girly. It’s best to have a mind for yourself instead of believin’ everythin’ ya hear.” Breesha’s smile is kind, and my shoulders slump with relief at the comfort.
She pours us each a cup of tea, and beckons for me to sit at a small table at the edge of the kitchens with her.
“Tell me child, do you know what the word Rhiza means?” she asks, tapping her spoon on her cup and reminding me so much of Phillipa.
I search my brain for the answer, but I don’t recall. I shake my head.
The weathered fae gives me a soft smile, and it strikes me that perhaps she knows quite a lot that I do not.
“It means roots. We may be in hiding, but we are still Lukasian to the core. We are the ones who will bring nutrients and life back when the time comes.”
I consider her words.
“Can you tell me what happened? Do you know where the curse originated?” I ask.
She taps one spindly finger to her mouth.
“Have you ever heard of the demon-goddess, Invidia?” she asks me, and the question doesn’t make any sense.
“No?”
Breesha purses her lips, and I wonder what secrets she has.
“I’ve shared too much. Do you feel up for a bit of a walk?” She changes the subject so fast my head spins. I don’t even finish my tea before she snatches up both cups to clean them.
“I don’t know … ”
She throws a small towel over her shoulder. “You are going to come with me.”
There’s no room to argue, and I sort of hope maybe she’ll share something more useful than some demon creature that I’ve never heard of before.
It feels impossible to reconcile the heathens who hang bodies in the streets and paint warnings with their blood to the civilized, and even—mostly—kind, fae I’m encountering here.
But as we walk, I find that’s exactly what I’m doing.
Children chase each other through the tunnels, their squeals and laughter echo off the cavernous stone. Lovers walk hand in hand. They’re all living their lives and seem so much happier doing it than anyone I’ve witnessed above ground.
Breesha gives me a proper tour of the underground city. She shows me how to get from my room to the kitchens. Directs me to the common areas, and then she takes me to the caves where there are fae tending crops.
It must be mostly root vegetables and fungi, not much else would grow down here. There might be some legumes, but I can’t see the full length of the field. It seems to go on forever.
“This way, girl,” Breesha says, guiding me to a path off to the side that leads upward.
“What’s up here?” I ask over my shoulder.
“You’ll see,” is all she says in return.
We climb higher, and with every step, my hopes rise, too. We have to be nearing the surface. An odd sort of smell hits me when we reach what I estimate to be the halfway point. The air changes, and it’s surprisingly damp in some spots on the stone.
“This is a vital part of our survival,” Breesha says just before we reach the top of the path. “You’ll want to cover your eyes at first.”
“Why—” But I don’t need an answer. My arms instinctively shoot to shield my eyes from the bright light of the upper cave.
“We use this space to grow some of the things we can’t cultivate underground,” Breesha explains as we allow our eyes to adjust. It aches, and I press the heels of my palms under my brow to ease the pain.
Here, like in the sanctioned greenhouses in Lukasia, tomato and squash plants grow in abundance. There are some smaller areas with different herbs, and one patch of leafy greens.
The opening of the cave is on the other side from where we entered, and I try not to look too eager to reach it. If I can just get some grasp of where I am—
“Don’t go getting any ideas. The only thing on the other side of this cave is rocks and angry waters,” Breesha scolds when she catches me looking to the mouth of the cave.
“I wasn’t—”
“There’s no sense lying. I just thought you should know. But have a look if you don’t believe me,” she offers, hitching up her skirts so they don’t get wet before walking further into the gardens.
My curiosity bests me, and I follow. We pass a fire where a fae stands, watching something boil. I notice a few others seem to be filtering something out of the buckets of water that the fae male near the mouth of the cave hauls up the side with a rope on a pulley.
“What are they doing?” I ask, unable to quell my need for answers.
Breesha just smiles softly. “They’re filtering the sea water. It’s a process, but the salt yield is worth it.”
I stop dead in my tracks, jolted by her words. I’ve never seen the ocean, and I never thought I would get the chance.
“The sea?”
Breesha nods and then watches me as I inch closer to the edge.
My stomach flips when I look down, and I have to sink to my knees in order to stop the vision in my mind of flinging myself off the cliff.
Far below, black water crashes against the rocks, producing a white foam that reminds me of the soap left over in the tub after a bath.
The sea. We are so much further from home than I had imagined. Escaping feels more like a fool’s errand than ever.