Page 57 of Hearts Lost

ITHRONEL

ONE CONDITION

Light. Light, a soft, rustling noise, and the low, contented hum of an animal who’s hovering somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. It’s peaceful, but still, there’s something tugging at the edges of my consciousness, some deep, cold warning.

I keep my eyes closed and breathe normally as my mind sorts through the jumble of my recent memories. Wherever I am, it’s soft and warm, and there’s an animal nearby. I move my fingers tentatively, brushing fabric instead of grass.

“Aloserin?” I whisper. “Hello?”

There’s no response, save a flicker of annoyance from the other creature in the room. It feels like a cat. My eyelids flutter open, and my gaze settles on folds of red fabric draped above me. I turn slightly, taking in the bed, the high windows, and the elegantly carved furniture.

Fear slams into me like a punch to the gut. I’m back in the same guest room where I’d stayed before blowing up the teleportation hub, back in the palace, back in the Crystal City. Back in the Kingdom of the Fall. My breath hitches and I hold perfectly still as my mind ruthlessly assembles my memories.

Climbing to the top of the waterfall. All those eyes, staring at me, hard and cruel. Aloserin looking at me like he didn’t know who I was. Like he was angry. Aloserin offering me his hand. Hesitation, the moment when I thought it might be better to just step backward, to let myself fall off the cliff. The moment when I slid my fingers into his and magic pushed through my entire body, dragging me under.

I swallow hard as tears well in my eyes. I’ve heard of sleep magic, but it’s rare. I never suspected Aloserin had the ability to knock someone unconscious with a touch.

I never suspected he would use it on me.

I suck in another breath, press my hands against my eyes, and try to force myself to think, damn it. They brought me back here, Aloserin and all the people I’d tried to kill, back to the palace in the Crystal City, when they could have just left me in the void. When they could have just murdered me. Why?

Because they want something from me.

My heart does a stupid little flutter, and I think of Aloserin standing at the top of the waterfall, twisting his hips as he pulled off his shirt. Telling me no, he’s not married.

No. No, that’s absolutely not the reason they brought me back here alive. I growl at my own stupidity and kick my legs out of the blankets. My limbs feel heavy and slow, like they’re made of mud. A fat gray cat rises ponderously from the foot of the bed and flicks an ear at me, annoyance radiating from his person.

Fine. That makes two of us. I use the bedpost to pull myself to my feet. The elegant little guest room is empty, but the sideboard is filled with an assortment of covered platters and a little kettle that I really hope is filled with tea. I stagger over to the sideboard, sink into a chair, and notice that someone’s hung a dress on the end of the bed.

Well, I think as I glance down at the ragged remains of my outfit before pulling the cover off the nearest platter, at least they didn’t undress me when I was unconscious. I work my way through the various platters of food, sharing an occasional morsel with the gray cat who clearly owns the place, and I drink three cups of strong black tea. There’s no meat at all on the sideboard, just pastries, seed rolls, fruit, and cheeses alongside delicate crystal bowls of sweet, brightly-colored jam. I wonder at that; did Aloserin tell someone I preferred not to eat meat? Or perhaps meat is just scarce in the Lands Below, and I’m trying to add layers of meaning where they don’t exist.

With a sigh, I tug off what’s left of the clothes I’d worn for our entire journey through the void, use the warm water someone left in a washbasin to clean myself, and finally pull on the dress that was waiting for me when I woke up. It’s dark red, made of soft, warm velvet, with an oddly elegant cut. I’d expected something a bit more utilitarian, given that I’m a prisoner now. I run my hands along the smooth, tight sleeves, and something pinches deep inside my chest.

The silver spheres King Grathgore gave me are gone. It’s probably no use hoping they were left behind in the void, abandoned to the river and the shadow animals. Tears prick my eyes once more, and I turn to the window, blinking furiously.

“I’m sorry, Amarille,” I whisper to my sister, locked away somewhere in the Worlds Above. “I tried.”

* * *

The knockon the door surprises me. I knew they’d be coming, of course, and I’ve been pacing this room for hours, wondering who it would be. Wondering when they would arrive. But I wasn’t expecting them to knock.

I jump to my feet and smooth down the front of my dress, trying to brush off the cat hair as the gray cat sulks under the bed, annoyed at his sudden and forceful removal from my lap. I swallow hard as fear pulls my muscles tight.

I knew this would come, I remind myself. I never honestly expected to survive my mission to the Lands Below.

The knock comes again, harder this time, and I realize whoever it is might be expecting some sort of an answer. The thought makes me want to laugh, a wild, desperate sort of howling laughter that I only just manage to catch in time. Because what if I said no? What if I said I’m busy, or I’m indisposed, or to come back later? Would they just leave me alone in this tower for the rest of my life?

“Ithronel?” a male voice calls from the other side of the door.

A wash of cold disappointment settles over my shoulders like a shawl. That’s not Aloserin’s voice. Of course, it’s not Aloserin.

“Yes?” I answer.

“I’m coming in now,” the man says.

The door cracks open, creaking slightly as it swings inward. I take a step back, my heart fluttering inside my chest, fear racing through my veins. The gray cat shoots out from under the bed and bolts through the door, abandoning me to my fate. Traitor. Then the door swings open, and a man steps through. I stare at him, my throat dry, my body frozen.

It’s King Galan. I’ve never seen him this close, but there’s no mistaking the King of the Fall. He wears a thin golden circlet in his amber-colored hair and a weary expression, as if he’s not looking forward to the business of torturing me.