But creating enough wind to lift me to the top of the oubliette is quickly draining my energy. A tingling sensation crawls through my limbs and splotches dance in my vision as my body bobs upward. My boots scrape the wall. I can hear Orli calling my name from above, which makes me think I’m a little more than halfway to the top. Exhaustion hits, and I’m lightheaded.
I push more energy out, ignoring how rapidly my body’s stores are depleting from the exertion. Only a miracle will get me to the door.
My boots scrape the stone again. I reach out with a hand and realize the wall is two hand spans from my head. The room narrows at the top in a bell shape.
“Lirra? Are you okay?”
“Coming.” It’s the voice of an injured animal. I don’t even know if Orli heard. My head is spinning. The vertigo increases, and I know I cannot make it.
I thrust both hands at the wall ahead and straighten my legs. When I have a firm press, one that will keep me from falling, I halt the outward flow of energy. The release kicks through me, and a spasm racks my body, nearly shaking my grip off the wall.
I’ve seen the twins climb the walls of the house this way. I just need to keep pressure on the wall, I tell myself. Hold it together, and get to the door.
“I can hear you. You must be close. Keep going, Lirra,” Orli says.
I listen to her voice. The door isn’t far. I can make it.
A tremor rattles me from shoulder blade to wrist. Fingers and toes slide upward, one small step at a time while I maintain even pressure between hands and feet. A fire burns through my lungs, the blaze heating every muscle in my body until sweat drips from the tip of my nose.
“You’re close,” Orli says.
Another hand. Another foot.
The pads of my fingers meet wood. The door! Gods of old, I’ve never been so happy to touch a door frame before. I edge up the walls of the oubliette, not realizing I’m holding my breath until my hand can wrap over the wood beam and all the air in my lungs whooshes out.
Orli seizes my wrist and instructs me to get a good hold with my other hand before shoving off with my feet. I do what she says, grasping the wood frame with both hands and then pushing off the opposite wall with the all the threads of energy left in me. At the same time, Orli yanks my body, and we go tumbling haphazardly though the doorway into the torture chamber.
I roll to my back and stare at the chains hanging from the ceiling, breath jerking through me. “You . . . freed . . . me . . . thank . . . you. How did you know I was here?”
Orli’s arms wrap around my body, and she squeezes me in a tight hug. “When you didn’t come to tell me about the showcase, I knew something was wrong,” she says, explaining that she went looking for me and found the carriage outside the cathedral. “I went to the castle next. I pretended to be a Channeler assistant to the healer. After I was in, I just had to find Leif. He admitted he was the last person to see you. He interrogated a few guards, and discovered you’d been caught.”
Too exhausted to laugh, I turn my head to face her and whisper, “Thank you.”
The torture chamber door scrapes open.
I try to scramble up, but Orli pats my arm. “Don’t worry. It’s only Leif.”
But the person who enters is not my cousin. It’s one of the guards who works for Judge Soma. Orli cries out in shock as the man advances, his dagger extended.
“Both of you, get through that door.” He points to the oubliette.
She shudders beside me, and I think she’s afraid until I see her hand slide toward her boot.
The man moves closer and reaches for her, just as the door behind him bangs open. Leif stands there, breathing heavily. His face is cut and bruised like he just walked off the melee field.
“You got away,” Leif says.
The guard spins and swings his dagger in a cutting arc. Leif scrambles back, barely saving his stomach from an eviscerating slice. The guard swings again, but he’s smart and fast. He’s not getting close enough for Leif to land a punch.
Leif lunges for the man, putting himself in line of the guard’s weapon. It’s a move of desperation, one that makes me think there’s a reason Leif needs to end this fight.
Orli yanks her dagger free.
“Are more coming?” I cry out.
“Yes,” Leif pants.
I take the blade from Orli, knowing my throwing skills are much better than hers. We may get only one clear shot. Leif’s shout echoes through the torture chamber. The guard has sliced him across his left arm. I wait for them to circle, and as soon as the guard’s back is to me, I lurch up and throw the dagger. It sinks into the man’s upper right shoulder, catching him unaware. The impact most likely won’t kill him, but it causes him to drop his blade. Leif jumps on him, tackling him to the ground and knocking him unconscious.
“We have to hurry,” Leif says. He points an accusatory finger at Orli. “I told you to wait.”
Orli sits up. “Yes, but that was ages ago. She wouldn’t have lasted much longer.”
Leif scrubs his hand over the back of his neck. “Sorry. I tried to hurry. I went for Aodren’s help. Figured if he used his status to free Lirra, it would be better than knocking out the guards. Only he—he couldn’t come.” His eyes widen. “He was unable to talk . . . But then I ran into Judge Soma.”
At the mention of the traitorous, deceiving man’s name, my eye twitches.
“I mentioned I was looking for you, and the next thing I knew, five guards were trying to jump me.”
“Did you beat them back?” I ask.
“Aye,” Leif says wearily. He helps me stand, but now that he’s not fighting, he seems weak and shaky.
“Soma is the reason I’m in here. He’s the supplier,” I tell Leif and Orli. I explain the conversation I overheard yesterday.
“Seeds.” Leif blows out a low whistle. “We need to get you out of here.”
Orli grasps my free arm and props it over her shoulders. My energy is spent. I used more than I should’ve to escape the oubliette. Using too much could’ve killed me. My vision fills with splotches, and Leif tells me to hold on. He and Orli help balance my weight as we trudge out of the torture chamber and through the belly of the summer castle. After we exit the cathedral on the cliff, Leif lifts me into the safety of my family’s inconspicuous carriage. My legs and arms barely have energy to move.
Leif puts a bottle in my hand.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“The real Sanguine.”
I stare at him, confused.
“Some had been used on another . . . but the person didn’t need it all, so the Ku gave the remainder to me to see if it would help curb the effects of the imposter Sanguine.”
“And have you used it?” I ask, my thoughts even more tangled from his explanation. Who was the other person using the oil? And why?
“You need it more than me,” Leif says, voice gentle. “Your legs can barely hold your weight. You used too much energy escaping. You need this to recover.”
“I cannot take this from you,” I start to say, and he holds up a hand, silencing me.
“You can. You found me and helped me out of a mess I didn’t even know I was in. It’s my turn to help you. There isn’t a full bottle there, but you’re not on your deathbed, so there should be enough for you to recover. And I can already tell that I’m going to make it. The other Sanguine got to me, but I’m not going down easy. Drink it, Lirra.”
Leif waits while I swallow the sweet, thick liquid. The taste of it comes in hints of flavors that each only last a second. Cinnamon, sandalwood, an ocean breeze, a summer melon. Even before I lunge forward and give Leif a parting hug, I can feel the oil moving through me, filling my energy stores and enlivening my muscles. Leif promises to find Aodren and deliver the news about Judge Soma.
I fall asleep in the back of the carriage.
* * *
Orli nudges me awake. The carriage is no longer moving.
“How are you feeling?” she asks.
She holds up a finger. “Too many questions. Wait for me to explain.”
I press my lips together and wave her on.
Orli twists the dust cover cloth between her hands. “There was another reason I waited for you to come see me after the showcase. Remember I said I could try to locate the blood charm?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it worked.”
She flattens the cloth on her leg and looks up at me. “The blood charm was activated at the Elementiary.”
Why didn’t Astoria tell me she’d seen Da when I asked? Was she helping him find the creator of Sanguine? I need to talk to her again, to see if she has more answers. “Let’s go there next.”
“I figured you’d say that after you woke from your nap.” She pushes open the door. “We’re already there.”
* * *
Wind gusts through Celize’s narrow roads, carrying the green scent of earth, crumbled rocks, and impending change. My gut tells me all the secrecy surrounding Sanguine is soon to be unearthed, and I’m itchy for the answers. It would be wonderful to have more information to help Aodren.
The Elementiary doors are locked. I’m not expecting that, considering the early hour. I walk around the back, to where Astoria’s home is connected to the building. I’m barely raising my hand to knock on her door when the sound of someone coughing stops me.
“She has asked about you.” I recognize Astoria’s rumbly, old voice.
This is the woman I trust and love, so it makes no sense that my first reaction is to hide. But some instinct tells me to tiptoe over to the small flower garden and wedge myself beside the window. It’s hard to hear over the crash of waves against the cliffs beyond her home. I can tell Astoria is talking to another person, but I cannot tell what they’re saying. I move until my head is as close to the window as it can be without being visible to anyone inside.
The thump and scuff of Astoria’s cane-assisted walk nears the window. “She’s upset that you haven’t returned yet.” Astoria’s voice is louder now, though still in a hushed, guarded tone. “Don’t dismiss what I’m saying. She didn’t tell you that she entered the showcase.”
“Lirra entered the showcase?”
I’d recognize that voice anywhere. I grip the windowsill to stop myself from running inside the house and hugging him. Da is here? Has he just arrived?
Astoria says something I don’t catch.
A gruff “you know that wasn’t possible.” And then, soft and reflective: “She never said anything.”
His sadness triggers my own. I step away from the window, intending to walk inside and tell him everything about my gliders. I missed the showcase, but it will be enough to share them with Da.
“I have a meeting with Soma shortly about the oil,” Da says, and I stop. Sanguine? Will Da confront him? The dust of the oubliette’s bones still coats my skin. A sharp snap of anxiety for what Soma will do to Da whips through me. Da cannot go alone to meet with the judge. I have to tell him—
“Not the truth. It will devastate her, Millner.” Astoria’s warning breaks through my spiraling thoughts. I missed what was said before her somber comment. What has Da done?
“She is a clever girl. If she convinced King Aodren to share what was in his letter, I know she didn’t stop there. Besides, all this time I’ve been talking to traders, threatening them even, and you go and tell her about Sanguine.”
“I had to warn her away. What if she decided to use it?”
My father snorts, and it’s more derisive than I thought possible from him. “Why stop there? You may as well have told her all I’ve done. I’m surprised she hasn’t caught on to me already.” The lash of anger subsides into remorse, both so unlike his usual cheer.
Surprised she hasn’t caught on to me . . .
I stumble away from the window, a hand flattened to my stomach and a bitter tang in my saliva. Nonononono. I don’t want to know the truth to this secret. And yet the cogs of my brain are twisting the pieces into place, and all I can think of is a memory from the past.
Da’s dimpled rose-hued cheeks paired with a wide grin when he measured my height two years ago. “Beetle, any day now you’re going to pass me up. What shall I call you then?”
I stretched onto my toes, laughing when I rose a fraction above him. “You mean today?”
Prudence’s description of the two people who left the oil at Duff Baron’s drop point could be anyone—one tall and one short and round through the middle.
Or, they could be Judge Soma and Da.
It doesn’t matter that Aodren is leaving at the end of the All Kingdoms’ Summit; there’s no future for us now. Not when one of the men supplying the oil that’s spurring Channeler rumors and discord in Malam is my father. For the first time, I think of Da by the name all of Malam knows—Archtraitor.
I stare at the window, turning over everything we’ve learned about the oil. We’re still missing a piece of the puzzle. Da and Judge Soma couldn’t make the oil themselves. There must be a Channeler involved.
Could it be . . . Astoria?
Chapter
33
Aodren
LEIF NEARLY KNOCKS ME OVER WHEN I WALK out of the healer’s room.
Margeria saved my driver’s life and tended to my bruises. The fight outside the Elementiary took only moments to double in size as more Shaerdanians and Malamians rushed to join. But a fire ignited in the smithy’s shop, and soon heat and flame were billowing from the building. Everyone fighting was forced to stop and put out the blaze. The last thing I remember was rushing toward the flame.
When I woke in the healer’s room, my head felt as if it had been crushed. The truth was close: the fire had set off an explosion. And I’d been hit by debris.
“You’re up and walking,” Leif says, his gaze skating over me. His face has taken a beating. He’s out of breath and sweaty.
“Leif,” I say in surprise, “I’ve been down for a day. I’ve had time to recover. But what happened to you?” I give him a sideways look, taking in the sweat running down his temples. Did he go out and get in a fight from the anger? This cannot just be a side effect of the oil.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he snaps, and then rubs his brow. “Sorry, sir. I—I didn’t mean . . . You can look at me . . . I’m fine. It’s not from the oil.”
His disheveled state is a concern and draws the attention of Seeva and the other Guild members as they file out of the room.
Ku Toa stops and nods to him. “It did not work?”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t take it.”
My expression must be complete confusion, because she turns and explains to me that half a bottle of Sanguine was used to heal me. She gave him the remainder to help him overcome the effects of the imposter oil.
“And you didn’t take it?” I turn to Leif, surprised that he didn’t accept her generosity. “And . . . is that blood on your arm?”
He seems baffled about the last bit. He glances to where his shirt has been sliced and then side to side at the guards in the hall. “Right, yes. I was cut. Two nights ago, Lirra came to see me because . . . That doesn’t matter. And when she left for the—”
“Did you say, Lirra?” Katallia breaks apart from the group and returns to my side. “I was worried when she missed the showcase. We haven’t seen her since.”
“She, uh, was sneaking out,” Leif says, wincing as if Lirra’s aunt will be shocked or dismayed. She is neither. “She ran into Judge Soma. Overheard him talking about the oil. He admitted to giving it to Otto and Folger, and he said something about giving it to Baltroit. Lirra said it was obvious he’s the supplier.”
Katallia sucks in sharply. “Seeva, come back!”
“But what of Lirra? Where is she now?” I ask, urgency screaming through my veins.
The other women return, and Leif
continues. “He caught her and had her thrown in the oubliette.”
The world stands still, and at the same time my head spins, imagining what Lirra must’ve gone through. If she could barely survive the confinement of the regular prison cells, how could she have survived even one minute in the oubliette, let alone an entire night? I never should have involved her in my search for the truth about the oil.
“I realized where she was with help from her friend Orli. I came down here to get help, but you were unconscious. So I went back. But not before running into Soma’s guards.” He gestures to his face.
“The supplier is Judge Soma,” Seeva is saying to the other Guild members.
This news is a blessed relief that couldn’t have come soon enough, considering the tournament and the grand finale of the jubilee are tonight. If only Lirra weren’t the cost.
“Where is she now?” I break into the conversation. It doesn’t matter that I have finally secured a meeting to determine trade with the Kolontians. I have to go to Lirra.
“At her home.”
“And what of Judge Soma? Has he been arrested?” I’m ready to hunt the bastard down right now.
“Guards will be sent to detain him,” Seeva says. “He will be held in his quarters.”
“He would be better detained in the oubliette.”
Soma doesn’t deserve the luxury and comfort of his quarters. Not when Lirra spent the night in the oubliette.
“Your Highness,” Seeva holds up a hand. “I understand your concerns. However, Judge Soma is Judge Auberdeen’s right-hand man. The law states that the evidence must be reviewed before he is convicted and punished.”
“And what has Judge Auberdeen said about his right-hand man?”
“Only that he’ll not pass judgement on his kinsmen until the evidence has been brought forth.”
I grit my teeth, too furious to respond. What more does Auberdeen need?
“Judge Auberdeen has agreed to meet with us two hours before the tournament to hear all evidence,” Seeva says, even though I’m already walking away from the group. “Then, we can officially have Judge Soma thrown in the cell and we can announce the truth to the crowd, bringing an end to the rumors.”
Once a King Page 27