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“Oh!” I gasp, the noise escaping before I can stop myself.
Tears bite at the corners of my eyes. The dark-skinned woman at his side wears a violet dress with an elegant, swooping neckline and a soft cascade of a skirt. The man holds her arm as though he’s holding the crown jewels, and he looks at her with a soft sort of smile that makes me feel like my rib cage has just turned into a vise.
My sister Ithronel turns at the top of the staircase and smiles back at him, her dark eyes flashing in the light of a thousand candles sparkling from crystal chandeliers. My fingers dig into the rough stone and my gut twists so painfully I’m suddenly thankful I didn’t try to eat anything this morning.
My sister. Ithronel. She’s alive, and thank the stars, but—
I spin away from the window and gulp for breath. My eyes burn and my stomach feels like it’s trying to crawl up the back of my spine. I try to reason with the churn of emotions cascading through me, but stars help me, it’s impossible.
I love Ithronel. I’ve always loved Ithronel. She was the only person I could turn to in the entire castle, the only one I could trust with my plans to escape. And she promised to help me, just before King Grathgore sent her into the Lands Below as some sort of prisoner exchange or hostage.
Yes, of course I love my sister. But she’s always had more. She was a prisoner too, I know, but she could leave the palace. She could have boyfriends and romances and adventures outside the palace walls, and she brought those stories back to me like treats she’d stolen from the marketplace, and I hoarded them. I traced the roads she’d taken on the maps in the library, and I relived the stories of her stolen kisses and fumbling lovers in the narrow confines of my lonely bed. And I tried to be happy for her, tried until I felt like I would scream, but I’d never been able to shake the burn of it.
She had things I never could, and as much as I loved her, some small, bitter part of me had also hated her for her freedom, for the trips and the lovers, and even the stories she brought back to me. And now she’s in a ballroom in a beautiful dress, with a handsome man who smiles at her like she’s the only thing that matters in any of the many worlds.
I squeeze my hands into fists and twist away from the window. But my gaze falls on Phaedron, the outline of his shoulders through his thick cloak, the light from the ballroom falling across his blond hair. He’s turned away from the window as well, his jaw tight and his eyes set on the closest glowsoft orb as if that’s all there is to see in the Lands Below.
And suddenly I remember how he looked at me as the fabled Towers of the Silver City fell apart around us, while an old god climbed the walls of its prison and grass drifted up into the sky, and something viscous and as dark as a nightmare dripped from the ceiling. I remember the weight of his sword around my waist, the pale inside of his palm catching the moonlight, tears tracing a path down his cheeks. Phaedron looked at me the way the groom just looked at his bride or the way the man with the dark beard looked at my sister. Like I was the still point, the center around which all the other stars move.
And now he won’t look at me at all.
I try to breathe, but my throat won’t open. I stumble away from the window and yank my hood over my head, tears spilling down my cheeks, my fist jammed between my teeth to keep from making a sound. I follow the rigid, straight line of the ballroom’s imposing marble walls, dodging golden pools of light that spill from its windows, until I find a sharp corner, one that’s almost hidden in bushes, and then I slink around the corner and press my back against the stone.
I gulp for breath like I’m drowning. Above me, glowsoft orbs pulse through a hazy veil of tears, twisting as they swim through the unending darkness of the Lands Below. A wave of nausea sweeps through my gut, as if the effects of riding the teleportation hub waited this long to kick in, and I think I’m going to be sick. A cheer rises from deep inside the ballroom, something joyful and celebratory and not at all a part of this swimming, blue-green world where I’m standing.
I close my eyes, and I see my sister. Ithronel in her beautiful dress, shining under the light of those crystal chandeliers, with a man on her arm who smiles at her like she’s the only thing in the world, and Ithronel smiles at him like—
Like she’s happy. Like she used to smile when we were home, and she showed me how to feed an apple to the horses with my hand held flat so they wouldn’t mistake my little fingers for stems or leaves.
Another memory forces its way through the murky darkness of my mind, and I’m back in the Kingdom of the Summer, sitting on a hard bench in the dying Spirit Wood, my dampening spell wrapped around us to keep our words from traveling. I’m telling Ithronel what I just discovered, about the new life inside of me and Balmyr’s reaction, and she’s holding my hand in the darkness. I made her promise not to tell a soul, and when she agreed, the darkness and the magic wrapping around her words made it feel like an oath.
I sigh as the stone wall digs into my back. I made her promise to keep silent, and a dozen days later, she was gone. Sent into the Lands Below by His Majesty King Grathgore, and no one could tell me why.
But I knew why. Deep in my heart, I knew there was only one reason Ithronel disappeared. She promised she would help me, my strong, brave, and beautiful sister. And she must have thought she’d find a way to help me down here.
I open my eyes and lean my head back against the cold stone. Above me, glowsoft orbs drift like dancers in slow circles across the darkness, and a question floats out of the numbed silence inside my chest. What if I hadn’t asked Ithronel to keep silent?
What if I asked her to escape with me?
I hiss into the tangle of bushes where I’m hiding. I’d never asked anything like that, but damn it, she probably would have agreed. Maybe we could have left that very night, with Ithronel using her magic to convince the fastest horses to carry us.
My chest pinches tight with regret and sadness that suddenly feels heavier than the weight of all the stone pressing down above me. Why in the nine hells didn’t I ask for help? Why did I wait until Ithronel was gone, cast into another world, before I even started planning to run away from the Kingdom of the Summer? Why did I assume I was alone before I even asked for help?
I huff out a breath and hear footsteps thud on the ground behind me. My muscles pull tight as a sort of dull panic throbs through my body. If it’s Phaedron—
“Hey,” a woman whispers.
Tension bleeds out of my body like blood soaking into soil. I turn to see Lady Arryn leaning against the wall beside me, and I nod my head in what I hope looks like a friendly greeting.
“It’s tough,” Arryn finally says. “Being down here.”
I make a sound that’s supposed to be agreement but comes out as more of a snorting sort of sniff.
“It’s nothing like it’s supposed to be, is it?” Arryn asks.
She’s staring at the glowsoft orbs with a sort of frown. At first, I thought she was talking about the Lands Below, but something in the twist of her lips makes me think perhaps she’s making another point entirely.
“No,” I finally say, although the word comes slowly, like it’s been dragged a great distance. “It’s not.”
