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“Here,” Dimitri called.
I followed his voice to a back wall where the Death Goddess’s face stared back at me. Any doubt I might have held that this used to be a temple disappeared. It was the same cut jawbones and antlered head I had seen Ealhswip caress in the crypt under the Women’s Tower, only smaller. Three priestesses stood around her, their hands reaching to form a triangle closed by rows of sigils.
“According to the map a tunnel should lead this way and I’ve seen a similar symbol on an ancient door before.” He hesitated, his reluctance to speak drifting through the cracks in his mental wall.
“How do you open it?” Koshka asked, tracing the lines in an eerily similar way to Ealhswip.
“Blood—though you must never tell anyone.” Dimitri drew his fingers through his hair as if fighting his upbringing. “But who’s?”
Koshka drew a knife from her vambrace and sliced her finger before anyone could offer a suggestion. I held my breath as shepressed her bloodied thumb against the Goddess’s face only to release it with a shrug when nothing happened.
“Not mine, I guess.”
She held up the knife as if offering it to the Goddess for direction.
It was Dimitri’s city, but this temple, these sigils, were presumably from before Herebov’s time.
I snatched the knife from Koshka’s hand and stung my thumb like I had so many times in the Grove, offering my blood for the care of my mother’s Spirit. Then, I had not known it connected me to the high priestess and those who came before her, all the way back to Ealhswip. If bloodlines carried power, mine held more than I ever would have believed.
I covered Koshka’s fingerprint with my own, the blood appearing black under the blue mage lights.
An invisible hook caught my magic, a presence like the crown’s but smaller, tasting me before letting go.
I staggered into Dimitri’s arms as, with a low rumbling and creaking gears, the wall moved on metal rails. Koshka donned her helmet, great teeth framing her face, and Yahontov half drew his sword.
The rumbling stopped, and the open door revealed a pitch-black tunnel. Nothing moved on the other side. Yahontov let his blade go after leaning inside as if to confirm nothing lurked.
The prince clutched me tight as everyone’s eyes burned my scalp, demanding answers. I wanted to stay in the secure warmth that reminded me of the best night’s sleep I could remember. But then I had led him on, traded kisses and wishes, while Tal burned. No matter where we went from here, what the kiss had meant, I needed to stand on my own. In the meeting tomorrow, we would become true partners in this.
Stepping into the empty dark, I pulled him along with me.
“Tempest?” he asked with a hesitation I did not recognize. “Perhaps you should stay back. This isn’t safe.”
“Then you’re the one who should not come.” I shook my head at anyone valuing the life of a thief over the crown prince’s. “I’m no princess.”
“But the only one who lay unconscious last night and is currently unarmed.”
He followed despite his arguments.
I had wanted his trust. Now I had to deliver. Tonight, we were finding the food. Tonight, I would prove I could make a difference.
Walking in a line, I led them into the darkness, trying to steer us toward Ealhswip.
Two and a half bells later in seemingly abandoned tunnels, we did not register the first scrape. Only when the sound came again, louder and closer, did I extinguish the mage light. We stopped, tensing, listening, in the absolute dark.
A bell ago, Dimitri had taken the lead, guiding us using the map and a Sorachian invention he wore around his neck. I had never seen its like—the front was a clock so small I could circumference it by closing my thumb and forefinger, the back was something he called a compass, its red needle always pointing toward the palace. In the dark, I felt Koshka creep ahead, proving she could move as quietly as any thief. Yahontov kept the rear, leaving me between him and the prince, their bodies close enough to feel.
Until now, we had only found dead-ends and abandoned chambers. While I was completely lost, Dimitri had excitedly claimed we were somewhere close to North Gate before we heard the scraping.
I knew my city. During the night and day, I had walked and ran and danced across streets and roofs. This clammy darkness filled with carvings of death and worship was a different world. Even my normally flowing magic shrank inside me, somehow unable to reach the thousands of living Talians I knew must be going about their business above.
Skirr, skirr, skirr.
Like something dragged over the stone floor.
No light broke the darkness.
I encouraged the reluctant magic. If there were people, I should be able to feel them.
