My stomach churns as we journey deeper into the darkness, and I know this is just the beginning.
We’ve been in the dark tunnel for over an hour, and our run has slowed to a jog when a faint sheen of light appears ahead,breaking through the darkness. Even though I knew it was coming, the sight is a relief.
I draw my sword and glance over my shoulder. “We’ve almost reached the end.”
We are still underground, but it feels like we’ve been walking uphill for some time. My shoulders are tense as they brush against the walls, and there’s a cramp in my neck from keeping my head bent. The sounds of those following us have long since vanished, and we are completely alone.
“Oh, thank the gods,” says one of the twins.
“I’m so tired,” replies the other. “My legs feel like they’re made of water.”
Their eagerness is echoed by my own. It’s been a long night, and the more distance we put between us and my father, the better.
The darkness slowly ebbs away until the passage opens into a small room. If I were to stretch my arms out at my sides, I’d be just short of touching both walls. The width is roughly twice as long, and the ceiling is a few inches above my head. After the tight tunnels, it feels palatial.
Two windows cut high serve the dual purpose of providing a glimpse outside and letting in the silver light of the three moons. Snow drifts gently from the sky, landing on the ground outside. The room itself is empty, save for a stack of wooden crates in the corner.
“Of course it’s snowing.” Wren stands beside me, her hands on her hips as she stares out the closest window. “The girls aren’t dressed for this.”
Neither is she.
“It might not stick around.” The winter is just beginning, and we might get away with a few more weeks without constant snowfall.
“Maybe,” she concedes. “But it’s unlikely.”
“Yes, it is.”
Wren huffs, and my lips twitch at the sound of her frustration. The same part of me that has been drawn to her since we met is pleased that we’re carrying on a semi-normal conversation, even if it’s just about the weather.
It’s small, but it feels like a step in the right direction.
“Is it just me, or are we trapped?” asks the twin I think is called Violet. I’ve tried to pay attention as the sisters speak, but it’s hard to tell the girls apart. They’re identical in every way.
“Not entirely.” I point to the rectangular iron grate cut at ground level at the other end of the small room. “That’s our way out.”
The grate doesn’t look like it was built with the rest of the room. If I had to guess, a smuggler came along later and cut into the wall, using the opening to come and go as they pleased.
“I see,” Violet says flatly as her sister yawns.
“The girls need to warm up and sleep.” Wren turns to me, her voice stern. “We can’t run again. Not right now.”
The gods-blessed’s love for her sisters is evident in both her actions and her tone, and her desire to keep them from harm is admirable. Suns, what must it be like to have such a loving sibling? Someone in your corner, who cares about you because you are family?
I wouldn’t know.
The gods only saw fit to give me my half brother, Severus, and our relationship is less than civil thanks to his close connection with our father. The two of them are more alike than not, which is a fucking frightening thought. I shudder to think about what will become of Myreth with Severus at its helm.
As my father’s heir and a true royal, one with magic in his veins, Severus is destined for the Ruby Throne. My brother is second in power to the king, and he is cruel. When I was younger, I would often see women—servants and nobles alike—crying when they left Severus’s suite. It wasn’t until I was much older that I understood he was hurting them.
The king did not stifle Severus’s cruelty. Rather, he encouraged it. Helped it blossom and grow into something frightening. I don’t think there’s an ounce of goodness in my half brother’s body.
Even though Severus wasn’t at the Winter’s Eve Ball, I’m sure he’s close to the capital. He never strays too far from our father’s side.
Shaking my head and shoving thoughts of my awful family aside, I stride to the pile of crates near the far wall and lift the one on top. A small stack of parchment and half a stick of charcoal are resting exactly where I left them a decade ago.
I take a slip of paper and a piece of charcoal before replacing the crate. Moving to where the grate is cut into the bottom of the wall, I drop to the packed dirt serving as a floor.
“We’ll spend the day here and rest.” I stretch my legs in front of me, drawing my sword and placing it across my lap. “You three should sleep. I’ll keep watch.”
