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I could only count so many gentle and sharp curves before I was utterly senseless. It was just as plausible that it would take me back to the Old Palace.
The cold stone gave off a dull ache in my hand and arm. And the intrusive thoughts continued to stab themselves into my mind over and over, like the knife I had used to pierce Martina’s heart.
Maybe death would be a better alternative to living with blood on my hands.
I stumbled along, suddenly walking across a stretch of jagged stone. Pausing, I looked around again. To this point, everything had been worn down, if not incredibly old.
My eyes strained for any kind of light. I did not know how long I’d been in the darkness, but it felt like an eternity. The walls seemed to close in around me, and a completely new sense of dread was filling my belly with something akin to lead.
After yet another curve, an icy breeze licked at my face. My chest went concave as a shocked breath whooshed out. I inhaled deeply, taking in the sweet night air. In tandem with the accelerated pace of my heart, my blood felt warmer. A sudden rush came to my hands, and they prickled and burned with the unfamiliar sensation.
If there was air, that meant there was an exit. I quickened my pace. Then, excitement won over trepidation, so I grabbed my blood-crusted skirts, hiked them up, and started running.
My foot caught on something almost immediately, and I tumbled to the ground. My elbows and hands scraped across the rough stone and my head hit the floor with a crack. A rush of pain greeted me all over, and I squeezed my eyes shut as I groaned.
The breeze brushed across my skin, strong and fresh, and I focused on long breaths. The plan was to banish all the pain through sheer willpower. It was a miscalculation. A ghost of the past sprang forth from my throbbing pain.
Lifeless brown eyes stared up at me. Splotchy, red blossoms bled across the delicate silk of Martina de Leon's bodice. Small gems glittered once in contact with her blood, as the viscous liquid gave them a shine they never could’ve possessed on their own. My hand was still on the knife protruding from her chest.
A violent shudder wracked my body as I lay in the fetal position. “Stop!” I shouted, trying to erase the horrible image from my memory. There was no one here to hear me, so I let out a strange mangled sound. No comfort came. No strong, warm arms scooped me up to carry me away from the ghosts of my actions.
Fear rose in me like a creeping vine that had taken root inside my soul.
Another chilled breeze passed over my body and I sat up. While I was still hurting, it helped. The Guardias would be looking for me, and while I doubted they could make it into this particular tunnel, it was possible that the land above was crawling with them.
I needed to get out and find a place to hide.
With shaky limbs, I pushed myself up and continued forward. Even in my resolve to save myself, something deep inside told me that whatever they did to me would be equal payment for my actions. My time as an Élite had proven I was a monster, just like everyone else.
One more sharp corner, and I stopped as the crisp, clean smell of snow and pine washed over me.
The roof of the tunnel had collapsed, leaving a gaping hole for me to the surface, but no passage through. This would be the end of my tunnel trek. Jagged rocks were scattered all across the floor, and I saw the patterns of the tunnel for the first time. Moonlight shone down from above, casting its luminous beams across expertly carved images.
I leaned down, inspecting the large stone rectangles and my eyes went wide as I took in the artistic representation of a wyvern. The same one I had seen carved into the secret passageway.
My brows furrowed. There were no wyverns in our history. Wyverns and dragons were a thing of fairy tales.What the hell was going on?
The wind swept snowflakes into the entrance and illuminated the darkened area like a spotlight. They landed across other depictions, most clearly worn from the elements. There was a renewed urge to cut myself once again so that I could turn around and continue back through the tunnel. I wanted to explore every inch of this strange space.
What other secrets were held in those frozen stone walls?
I moved to the side and found a long stick peaking through a shallow bed of rubble. Curious, I moved closer to see if it was thick enough to use to help me climb up to the outside world.
No sooner than I had touched the slick, chilled object than I fell back. It was a bone. A handless skeleton was laid before me, fully clothed. The thick, green-gray caught my attention instantly. It was a Guardia uniform and I could tell it was dated.
Maestra Cecelia’s wall had been covered in pictures, her room stuffed with books and old newspapers. This looked like a uniform from one of the first Guardias after the line of kings had ended. I sucked in a breath. It was likely almost fifty years old, and he, or she, had been left here to die.
More snowflakes dusted my face, and I sucked in a breath, feeling relieved for the clean air. Self-preservation came before exploration, so I gently shifted the rocks, trying to be respectful to the fallen person. I didn’t know if the Guardias had always been as corrupt as they were now, but I didn’t relish in stealing from someone else’s remains.
It would be a relief to shed this gown and walk away from the blood I’d spilled. I put on the pants first, and was pleased to find that they were made of durable synthetic material, apt for chilly winters like these. The instant insulation they provided was incomparable, and the cold was taken away in moments. Too-big boots were the only uncomfortable part of the outfit, but I could manage.
After finishing my exchange of clothes, I put Santiago’s coat on once more and walked into an open section of the tunnel where the snow fell. Each thin-white crystal floated down like feathers landing on my hair and shoulders.
Surveying the cemented mounds of dirt and snow, I found a place to grab onto and started climbing. The tunnel wasn't tall, but the wall was steep.
I pulled myself up, despite each foothold being more than a little slippery. My fingers gripped into the semi-hard dirt, flinging chunks of muddy snow down into the tunnel as I heaved upward. Months spent training for the physical exertion of the Tournament had given me a new strength and agility. With careful effort, I climbed to the top.
The gap deposited me in the middle of a forest with spidery trees. As I pulled myself out all the way, my skin soaked from the now-melting snow, I saw the same mountain range where Antonio and I had done my survival attempt. As I continued to scan my surroundings, a faint golden glow gilded the tops of trees. It must've come from the capital, Ciudad de Rubíes. We had passed through it on our way here.
