Chapter 8
Ispun around, but the room didn’t stop when I did. My hands scrambled for purchase on the dresser behind me, barely managing to catch my weight.
“You need to sit,” Harthon observed. Judging by the ire in his tone, he still wasn’t pleased by my actions.
“I figured that out,” I mumbled. When the dizziness finally subsided, I walked back to the lounge chair, sinking into the cushions as Harthon reached me.
He placed a steaming bowl on the small table beside me. “Broth is better for hydration. It won’t sicken you like water can,” he explained, handing me the metal spoon. “Will you actually be able to get it into your mouth?”
Rolling my eyes, I dipped the spoon into the broth and shoved it into my mouth.
He pointed at the bowl. “You’ll keep eating while we speak, or I’ll stop talking.” Then he sat in the seat across from me, crossing an ankle over his knee.
“You know it wasn’t Stefano’s fault,” I said, spooning more broth. As the one responsible for keeping me in this room, Stefano was another enemy. Yet some part of me felt almost bad at the thought of him stuttering over his explanation of why I was wasting away. He really was just a boy.
Harthon merely raised a brow. “He was responsible for your safety. You made things unsafe under his watch. I don’t see how that isn’t his fault.”
“It was my decision. He would have had to force my mouth open if he wanted me to drink, and that would have made things far more unsafe.”
“Are you telling me this because you feel guilty?”
Maybe. “It’s not about guilt, but fairness.”
“I hold my men to high expectations. Stefano knows what happens when he falls short of them.”
I rested the spoon in the bowl. “What does that mean?”
“He’ll be punished.”
At that, my heart dropped. With those big eyes and rounded cheeks, he was too young, too nice, to actually be punished for what I did. “What’s the punishment?” I asked with bated breath.
He slowly smirked. “You do feel guilty.”
“It’s not his fault. If you refuse to blame me, then blame yourself, because you didn’t come to speak to me as quickly as you promised,” I snapped.
Light sparked in his eyes, and he leaned forward. “Would you rather I have let Koerlyn’s spies infiltrate the city?”
My brows furrowed. “Spies?”
“When we arrived, I immediately left to strategize our defenses. Koerlyn is proud, and when I took you from him, I not only robbed him of something incredibly valuable, but I embarrassed him too.” He seemed rather pleased at that fact.
“We were anticipating an attempt to infiltrate the city, and yesterday, we received word of a small troop posing as a caravan of villagers. We intercepted them last night.”
Oh. So maybe Harthon’s other priorities really were that pressing.
“How did you hear about them?” I asked, returning to the broth.
“I have the best information network in the Territories.”
The tight-lipped answer offered nothing but the obvious. It reminded me of his previous words about Koerlyn torturing me for information. If that troop had succeeded and dragged me back to Third…
“But you’ve waited long enough to know what’s going on, so here it is, Etarla. You’re our way of infiltrating the Domus.”
I coughed on the broth, sputtering. Harthon couldn’t have been any less blunt if he tried.
His forehead creased. “I’m going to revise my statement from earlier. You can stop eating while we speak. I’d rather you not choke to death.”
“Is there a different, more appropriate reaction for people who are told they’re the key to entering a very much inaccessible city?” I croaked.
“It could have been calmer.”
I laughed, the sound dry and bitter. He’d stolen me away, imprisoned me in his Citadel, all for an impossibility. “Right. How about this for a calm reaction: you’ve lost your mind.”
Harthon sat back, dwarfing the chair. Knees open, elbows resting on the armrests, he was wholly untroubled by my statement. “How much do you know about the Domus?”
“I know the general details. It’s a swirling, reflective field that no one can pass.
It appeared after a period of unrest. Nothing has been heard from Centralis since.
Princepes like to say King Donon brought the walls up because of his own cowardice, and they’ve sucked the life from our land and skies ever since. ”
“You don’t believe what the Princepes say to be fact?” he questioned.
“I have an innate distrust of our Territory leaders. Considering their penchant for kidnapping,” I said, giving him a pointed look, “that distrust is sound. Plus, the truth of the Domus never really concerned me. It’s been there for twenty-five years, and it isn’t going away.”
Amusement lifted his lips. “Despite our penchant for kidnapping, that information is true. But it’s missing quite a few important details, some of which we omit from the public, and some of which are just unknown to current Princepes.”
“Why would you omit details from the public?”
“Us Princepes tend to fight over many things. The one commonality that unites us is our general desire to stay in control. Certain information would promote hysteria and unrest, which threatens that control.”
It was no secret that our leaders valued their power, but when Harthon stated it so bluntly, disgust lodged in my throat. We were all just the Princepes’ little captives, ruled under their fists, controlled by their whims.
“King Donon was a coward,” he continued, his contempt for the ruler evident.
“His control on the Territories was slipping, and the Princepes that used to be loyal to him began planning coups. Farms and food supply had struggled for a few years, and Donon knew it was only a matter of time before he was overtaken. So, he called on his magvis to do something.”
A strange being had erected those walls, they said. I never really thought it to be true. “Magvis?”
“You’ve never heard of it?” He said it like I was an ignorant fool.
I blushed. “I’ve heard of it. I just didn’t think it was true, so I never bothered to know more.”
“A majority of the public only started to hear of the magvis after the Domus, and even then, we’ve kept details limited. The magvis is a being that…controls things in unnatural ways.”
“You’re telling me King Donon had a witch?”
Harthon shook his head. “Not a witch. Not like the ones from fictional stories, anyway. The magvis didn’t cast spells or make potions, and her feats didn’t come easily. What we do know is that the magvis was capable of manipulating our physical world, and only very rarely.”
The explanation only birthed a thousand more questions. “Manipulating our physical world as in erecting the Domus’ walls? Is there only one magvis? Are there…are there other beings out there that can do this?”
Harthon handled the assault in stride. “Yes to your first question. And for your others, there has only ever been one magvis at a time. A new magvis was only created when the current one gave birth and died doing so. The first was discovered long ago and was quickly adopted as the king’s personal weapon.
Locked away, isolated, and kept only for use when needed.
A magvis is the only being close to magic that we know exists. ”
“But if the magvis is so powerful, how could one ever be locked away?”
“According to the stories, the very first magvis made an oath to a king. Protection for ownership. That oath was passed down through its bloodline.”
The way the magvis was kept…that was a horrible way to live. It felt like wool had clogged my throat when I spoke next. “Kings kept the magvis hidden away because if the rest of us found out, others would want the magvis for themselves.”
“It was a strategic decision,” Harthon acknowledged, essentially admitting he would have done the same.
And how dare he? “It isn’t right to imprison an innocent pers—” Well, not a person. “An innocent being like that.”
“No. But sometimes the best decision is not the morally right one,” he countered flatly, as if there wasn’t something innately wrong with that opinion.
It was that very opinion that appeared to guide all of our leaders. “A lack of morals must be a requirement to be Princeps.”
“It’s one of many.”
I looked away, working my jaw in disgust. There wasn’t anything to say to that. Arguing with him would do nothing but waste my breath.
At my silence, he returned to what he was saying before.
“Donon called on his magvis to erect the Domus to maintain his throne in Centralis. To power itself, it siphons the life from our lands and skies, while the land within the Domus lives, thrives, as it naturally should.” Reluctantly, I dragged my attention back to him.
“To put it simply, Centralis holds the resources we need to end the suffering of everyone in the Territories.”
Which meant… “Whoever gets control of Centralis and its resources will essentially have all they need to control the other Territories as well.”
“Yes.”
“Which is why you and Koerlyn both want in.”
Harthon simply dipped his chin in confirmation.
I studied the pensive man across from me. This wasn’t really about ending our suffering. That sounded nice, but it wasn’t the truth. It was about power. It was about becoming a king.
“And how do I supposedly help with that?” The words burned my throat.
“When Donon built those walls, he ensured there would be a way out in case he ever needed to escape. He had his magvis build a tunnel network beneath the ground.”
My eyebrows shot up. That was certainly news to me. “If tunnels can get people in and out, why haven’t you dug your own into the Domus?”
“Nearly every Princeps has tried. No one has succeeded. The magvis raised the walls, and the magvis was the only one who could build a path through them. The magvis was also the only one who knew the path through the tunnels, where to enter, and where to exit.”
That didn’t make much sense. “What’s the point of having a way out if people can’t find it?”