AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Take that room.” Cael pointed at the door on his left.
I grabbed the wig from the tea table, knocking a peony to the floor. I turned and exited through the door, feeling every bit as disgraceful as my father said I was.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
Inside the bedroom,a single oil lamp burned on a night table. Like the room I’d left, this one had stone walls and a dirt floor. Beams lined the ceiling, hopefully doing their job to keep this underground lair from caving in on us. It wasn’t decorated with the extravagance of Cael’s house, but there was a real bed with blankets and pillows—all of them colorful and pastel, looking out of place in this dark hideaway. On the wall to my right was a mirrored vanity with a washbasin, towel, and a stool.
My father’s insults still stung. I dropped the wig on the bed and ran my fingers through my cropped hair.
I stepped out of my high-heeled shoes and untied my tight bodice, breathing deeply as it came off. My dress fell to the floor, along with several layers of puffy skirts. Only in a white underdress now, I sat on the stool at the wash basin and washed off my makeup. In the mirror, I watched Zenitha’s work devolve from art into greasy smudges, and then fade away completely as I scrubbed.
It was a relief to have my face and eyebrows back, even if there was nothing I could do about my lost hair.
I thought about Cait and Lachlan, hoping they’d gotten to my home safely. I wondered what they’d do when they found out Pearce was dead, their shot at the arsenal ruined.
The more I thought about the arsenal and what it might hold, the more my curiosity grew. Was it really possible there was a path to freedom hiding under the Academy of all places? I didn’t covet the weapons I’d seen in action, but my mind spun with possibilities. I couldn’t have imagined the radio or the flashlight, so what else might lie underground, undiscovered, that was more powerful than I could even dream of?
But now, thanks to me, Pearce was dead, his knowledge gone with him. I’d been an idiot by leaving the glass behind. My mistakes continued, one after the other.
It seemed there would be no end to them.
I couldn’t bear to work with Cael any longer. Being here, though technically safe, was further entangling me in his snare. If I stayed, I was entirely at his mercy. In some ways, I was more imprisoned here than I would be in an actual prison.
I’d been so fixated on Graham, of getting his forgiveness by making him king, that I’d been willing to make a deal with the devil. Before that, I was shortsighted in a different way, intent on winning my father’s pride by becoming queen.
It was always about someone else’s desires.
What would I do if I stopped living for everyone else?
What didIwant?
I looked at the towel I held, sullied from the makeup I’d used to disguise myself. The face in the mirror looked like my own, for now, but the moment I left this underground lair, I’d have to hide behind a face and a name I didn’t know.
I remembered the beautiful woman at the party who proudly wore my hair as a wig. The thought sent a tear streaming down my cheek.
“You idiot,” I said to myself. It was absurd to cry about my hair when I had so much more to worry about, but it wasn’t truly the hair I mourned.
I was so tired of hiding.
The face that looked back at me couldn’t be shown above ground.
My hair could beautify someone else, but not me.
Someone else could lead the city, but not me.
My very being was unacceptable in the world I lived in.
I wished I could find a place where I belonged—one that allowed me to exist simply as myself without having to shape my identity into a box of other people’s demands. One where my value didn’t depend upon my usefulness. If there was something in the Academy’s arsenal that could make my escape possible, I longed to find it.
Yes, Pearce was dead, but there was one other person who knew how to get into the hoard. And the intolerable man was sitting outside my door.
I could pretend to cooperate with Cael a little longer if it got Graham on the throne and me to the hoard. I could pretend I’d forgiven my father.
It was time forthemto be useful to me.
I let a genuine smile surface as I dreamed of the weightlessness of dropping all the masks I’d constructed. I wouldn’t let go of my grievances, but if I got what I wanted, I would soon be able to stop pretending.
