“Try a door,” she whispered, her voice sounding scared. “It doesn’t matter which.”
I stepped forward, placing my hand on the first door on the right. Nothing happened. I gripped the ornate silver handle, the filigree carved into the shape of a river dragon, its tail curling underneath it.
It didn’t move.
I tried to call on my magic through the Queen’s crown, in case that was needed. Concentrating on pulling my life magic through the crown, I felt something answer, but only slightly, and the magic dissipated as soon as it came.
“Try the other one.” There was a desperate edge to her voice, and I recognized panic there.
I cast her a swift glance, my own heart racing, before placing my palms on the other door, which looked exactly the same as the first—carved obsidian, with a silver dragon handle. This time it glowed green, and relief rushed through me.
My magic called to me, the power of my bloodline, the life of all the Mountain pulsing through me.
Itrecognized me.
And for the first time, I could properly feel them, my family, each pulse of life of my mother, brother, sister. I had known they were still alive, had felt them before, but this was different. Now, I could hear their heartbeats, recognize each breath they took.
I lifted the handle of the door, adrenaline fueling my blood, my heart pounding so loudly it felt as though it echoed through the small chamber.
The door opened.
A sob caught in my throat.
I took a tentative step forward, finally allowing myself to hope. After all this time, I could finally hope.
I wasn’t even sure if I recalled the sound of my mother’s voice. I couldn’t trust if the memory of my brother’s laugh was true or what my sister’s smile looked like. My chest filled with unfamiliar elation as I took another step.
“Wait.” Yaseema gripped my arm hard, her hand shaking.
I glanced over at her. Her face was pale, lips bloodless. She looked as though she might vomit.
“What is it? Yaseema, what’s wrong?”
I turned to her fully, grabbing her by the shoulders.
“I...” She turned her face to me, her eyes wild. “The inscription above the doors.” She murmured the last words, and her voice cracked at the end.
“What does it say?” The hope in my chest stilled, waiting, needing, to be released.
It was her face that stopped me, that had my heart in my throat and my breath trapped in my lungs.
“It doesn’t make sense,” she whispered violently. “It says...” She swallowed, swinging her gaze back to the door. “It saysa trade must be made.”
A frown pulled at my brow, and I looked up at the other door. “Trade? What kind of trade.”
She looked back at me, the panic clear across her face. “Kiyan...”
“What. Kind. Of. Trade?” I gritted out, a black hole of fear eating at my stomach. “The crown? Is that what it wants?”
I thought of Reza’s words again, still not able to get him out of my head—there is always a cost.
“No... it doesn’t say anything about the crown.” She pointed up at the inscription above the door that had opened. “Royal blood shall be paid.” She swallowed, wrapping her arms around her body, still shaking. “It says it can only be opened once. The trade only made once. And with royal blood.”
A trade must be made. Royal blood shall be paid.
It wasn’t about the crown. It was never about the crown.
All this time, the answer was right in front of me.
