Thane turns to me, raising an eyebrow.
“Eloise and I have an idea. It’s too early to share the details, but give us time. We may have a viable plan soon.”
“It can’t come soon enough.” The older shade scrubs the back of his neck with his burly palm. “Ever since the Harvest Festival, New Stygarde has been ramping up their patrol of Aendor. All it would take is New Stygarde cutting off interdimensional trade, and they could starve us out. We can’t hunt, ourselves…not the amount it would take to feed them all. And I’m sure you can imagine how financing this facility has drained our coffers. I’m truly not sure how much longer we can continue like this.”
“We have to. You said it yourself. We do not have enough men. Unless we find a way to capture the Borderlands and fight our way north and south simultaneously, New Stygarde and Willowgulch will be impossible to break. They’ll use our own people against us.”
“I know you don’t trust them, but the Rivertoads are uniquely positioned in the Borderlands. If they joined us, we’d have a chance.”
“Not happening,” I mumble. “Jaqual offered his menonly in exchange for Eloise, because he thinks if he has her, he has tamed the dragon and will become King of Stygarde.”
Thane hesitates a moment, then lowers his voice to a whisper. “Have you ever considered that if Jaqual asked for Eloise, as you’ve mentioned, maybe she could influence him… Use her magic to charm him into doing what we want.”
“It’s. Not. Happening.” I meet his eyes so that he knows I’m serious. “I refuse to use Eloise as a bargaining chip for a promise from a man I don’t trust, who rules a people who don’t contribute to our society in any meaningful way. We will find another option.”
Thane nods. “I understand. I wouldn’t give up Tempest to save our world either. I’d let the whole thing burn if it came down to it.”
I stare at the military map in front of me, my arms crossed defensively against an impossible scenario. “I didn’t return to Tenebris to run from my soulless brother and his wicked dark elf bride. I wasn’t born of my king father and then trained for decades to fight as an umbrae warrior to bow to the dark elf king who captured and tortured him. Eloise is the dragon, and we will take back Tenebris. If this world burns, we burn with it.”
His barrel chest rises and falls with his exhale. “I admire your passion, Damien. You remind me of Malek in all the important ways. You’d make a fine king. I admit, my own passion has been ground down under the weight of time, disappointment, and loss. Watching Aendor burn and being helpless to stop it was a particularly low point. It’s good to have you here, breathing new energy into the cause. We all need that.”
I nod, understanding what he means, how I felt when I left the castle, the loss of my home, the split of my family. The wound still rankles. And just like a slow-to-heal, infected limb, one can be tempted to cut it off to stop the spread. But I have to have faith.
“We will find a way, Thane. Aendor will be yours to rebuild again. We will have peace. We will have freedom for all.”
He runs a thumb along his bottom lip, studying the map. “It will be a relief to have you on the throne, listening and responding to the needs of the people. The voice of Stygarde has been ignored for far too long.”
I hear echoes of Jaqual in the man’s words, and I hate that the notion once again sounds reasonable. This time, hearing it come from one of my father’s oldest friends helps it find purchase in my soul. After everything, the voice of the people will need to be heard. They will need to feel in control. And when I am king, I will find a way to make that happen.
21
The Key
Eloise
“Be careful, little bird. I know you can protect yourself, but I fear how long you might wait to do so, if you believe the pain you suffer will serve your purposes.”
I kiss Damien, skimming my palms down his chest. He’s right, of course. I do have a penchant for self-sacrifice and, admittedly, self-sabotage, if I believe I’m helping the people I love. My relationship with Tony was the perfect example. I allowed him to prey on me because, in the deep grief of my parents’ passing, I believed I would do my grandmother a favor by marrying myself off. I was so wrong. To some extent, what I was doing was risky and selfless, but it didn’t mean I had to fall on my sword or dance with the devil.
I’d like to think I’ve learned my lesson.
“I will be careful. No matter what happens over there,I’ll make sure that I’m back here, in one piece, in a few days’ time.”
He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Go. Tell Maeve and Ren congratulations from me.”
I pick up the silver-and-gold-wrapped box that contains our wedding gift to them and step into the symbol. I’m wearing one of my favorite Ariadne designs, a purple gown that perfectly contrasts with my green eyes and bright-red hair. It’s comfortable enough to run or fight in, but glamorous enough for any formal occasion. I don’t need to bring anything else. I came here with nothing. All my things are still in Harcourt Manor. I hug the box to my chest and draw on the bond between Phantom and me.
You know what to do this time, right? Before we ascend to Earth, you must abandon the bones of the dragon in the underworld and return to the grandfather clock. There are no dragons on Earth.
My grandmother’s voice speaks for my ancestors. We’ve got this, darling. We know better what to expect.
My eyes meet Damien’s as I trigger the key spell, my mind focused on my parents’ stillroom in the attic of Harcourt Manor. It’s the first time I’ve used the key since we came to Tenebris and my first time in the Darklands since we traveled to the shadowpath and faced Thanesia. I recognize the goddess’s realm, with its deep-water blues and forest-green darkness, as I pass through her door and through her version of the netherworld. I say a prayer to her, aloud, just in case she can hear me, thanking her for safe passage and wishing her well. I swear the air vibrates in response.
I pass into the ashy red glow of Earth’s underworldwithout delay or discomfort. I’ve been in darkness so long that the crimson light stings my eyes, and I blink rapidly toward the version of Harcourt Manor that exists here.
I reach out for my bond with Phantom and feel it come apart as if a braid were unwinding into its separate components. A shimmer of light, and my grandmother manifests on the porch. My grandfather appears next to her, my mother, my father, and then a legion of Harcourts whose names are lost to time fill in around them. All of them are gray-scale, newsprint versions of themselves with pinprick pupils that glow silver from smiling faces. I have more relatives than can fit on that porch or in that house, but that doesn’t matter. A soul takes up no space.
Pressure builds within my body, and I wave goodbye. A thousand gray hands wave back, some of them passing through walls to say their farewells. I turn my attention straight up and begin to rise, a bubble zooming along a straw. I land with a pop inside the key symbol in the attic of Harcourt Manor, my old attic. It’s discombobulating, first the sensation of rocketing upward, rising like a cannonball shot toward the sky, and then an abrupt fall that buckles my knees. I land in a sort of lunge, one hand braced on the floor under me and the other gripping the small box.
