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“If I can’t find Damien,” I said, “we’ll interrupt Nigel’s ceremony, try to capture or kill him. Avoid much of a fight maybe, but defeat whoever opposes us. That’s the best-case scenario.”
“Worst case?” April asked, finishing her food and standing up to clean her plate in the sink.
“Nigel hides out and lets the guard fight his battles. Hopefully the elite will wait it out, and if they do finally join in, we’ll have already impacted their ability to fight us. Once they realize we’ve got an antidote, they may be more inclined to run; they’ll go outside the walls where the slagpaw will eat them.”
“Unless the slagpaw are within the walls.”
“Right. So, slagpaw versus elite. Guards versus rebels. Chosen versus, me and Camina I guess. 10 to 1 odds. Plus a few thousand civilians who hopefully will have the sense to stay indoors.”
“It’s either a quiet assassination or a civil war,” April said.
“Probably somewhere in between. But it would go smoother with Damien. If I can save him and my siblings first, I’ll be more focused. But with luck, I can save them after, by taking out Nigel.”
“Nigel will kill you,” Mary said. “He’ll kill us both.”
“Nobody is safe,” I said, considering her. “Not when there’s an imbalance of power. Not when they can change the rules. Algrave was our home. The elite burned it. They killed my mother, and she wasn’t the only one. Sure, if you’re chosen, maybe life’s not that bad. But the covenant was meant to protect the compounds. You are sworn to protect the kingdom. Damien is the rightful ruler, and he’s with me. That should tell you all you need to know.”
“I know where he is—” Mary said, a little too quickly, then seemed shocked at herself. But she straightened her neck and pulled her shoulders back, adjusting her bound posture into something a little more respectable.
“The chosen were talking about it earlier. One of the elites mentioned something, about Damien being kept in his father’s shadow, in a prison of eyes and fingers. We thought it was some kind of riddle.”
Something tugged at the edge of my memory, then fit together in a moment of clarity that felt a little too profound, like I was being stroked by the threads of destiny. Like all of my experiences and actions were being coerced and monitored, taking away my agency.
“I know where to go,” I said. “At least, I think so.”
I glanced at the clock again, then stood up to prepare myself. April and Zane would finish the antidote and get more out to the rebels as soon as possible. I’d done everything I could for the revolution. The next few hours were just for me.
“If you stay here,” I said to Mary before leaving. “You can claim you were a prisoner. Regardless of who wins. It’s safer for you, for all of us. If we let you leave—”
“I won’t tell,” she promised. “You were right. I’ll find Amber, and my parents.” I wondered if she was using Amber’s name to try and manipulate me. But I wanted to believe her, and we did need someone who could get word to the refugees and make sure they stayed safe.
“You’ve got to tell everyone not to go to the crowning,” I said. “Stay home, lock the doors. And if you see more chosen you can trust, or elite you can’t, use this.” I grabbed another vial of antidote and a handful of the syringes and tucked them into a white canvas medical pouch, before bending down to untie her.
“Can we trust her?” April said, crossing her arms.
“We don’t have a lot of allies,” I said.
“What can we do?” Zane said.
“There is one thing I need...”
16
The daylight faded as I stepped through the glass hall, past the modern offices and political centers, framed with trees and tall statues, to the industrial sections and buildings around the back of the palace. There were a handful of men around, with worn faces and dark brown clothes, but few guards. Most of the citizens were gathering in the central plazas, where large screens had been set up to display tonight’s crowning. All of it to give a polished veneer of a state-run event. The day had slipped by, minute by minute, and now I was out of time. If I could find Damien and free him before sunset, we had a chance at avoiding violence. But somehow, it felt too late even for that. Would Jacob listen if I told him to stand down now? My heart pounded every time I passed a young family or old couple holding hands, dressed in their finest, out to enjoy the holiday festivities. I wanted to grab them and hide them somewhere safe.Don’t you know what’s coming? Don’t you know what I have unleashed?I quickened my pace, and soon I was sprinting.
It had seemed distant and hypothetical, when we were planning outside the citadel walls. But now it felt all too real. And there was one more possibility, that I didn’t have the heart to name with April earlier. If Damien died, then even if we killed Nigel, we’d have nobody to replace him with. There would be a power struggle, that would probably last for many years, with skirmishes and battle, violence on both sides. Putting Tobias on the throne was the only alternative that I could see, but he’d probably be forced to use his compulsion to create a fake peace and security. With that much power, who’s to say he wouldn’t become another vampire tyrant after a hundred years of rule?
Deep down, I knew my urgency for saving Damien had nothing to do with politics. I was like a rubber band, pulled so far back the strain had become painful and dangerous. And I was snapping back, being pulled by an invisible thread between us.
I got lost several times and each time my nerves shot up, until I saw a more familiar street. Finally I found the small gardened path I’d walked with the king, to the large steel door in the side of solid rock. The city was a labyrinth around it; I probably wouldn’t have even noticed it if I hadn’t been looking. I scanned the door, and the electronic pad beside it, with the built-in retinal and fingerprint scanner.
A prison of eyes and fingers.The king’s personal monument of death; a reminder of the threat used to scare impressionable young girls or enemies of the state. I was pretty sure no part of the king escaped the volcano of ash unscathed, but I imagined Damien would have access. And if so, it was the perfect place for Nigel to keep him. A prison nobody could unlock, if the key was trapped inside.
I just needed an eye and a finger. But Ihada finger, Damien’s. Was it a clue, or an oversight? I knew that if Nigel had sent me the fingers, then he must be expecting me. That it was probably a trap, and it was stupid to go in alone. But maybe Nigel wasn’t expecting me until later. The sun was still out, and I felt it warming my skin as I stood outside the entrance. That should keep the elite away. I only had maybe an hour until sunset, to secure any advantage before the others arrived. To make sure Damien and my siblings were safe. Curate Marcus said he’d checked everywhere else. They had to be here. But in what condition?
It was like the riddle about a cat in the box, both alive and dead until it was opened. Deep down, I wondered if my opening the tomb would be the very thing that condemned my elite prince.
I checked my weapons and drank more elixir before walking in. I couldn’t drink too much, not before the real battle began. I decided on four drops, like the other chosen had received. Though I’d already had more earlier, I felt like it canceled out, from the blood loss. That should put me ahead of the guards and other chosen, at least.
