She moaned, her fingers traveling to the spot on her head where she had been bitten. Her fingers met a sticky substance. Every limb stretched and ached. Her heart pounded against her ribs.
Her thoughts dipped into shadow. “Caleb is already dead…”
A voice called to her. She knew the voice all too well though her mind could not comprehend who had spoken. Through a blur, she saw a thrashing figure far above her in the arena’s audience space. “Open it!’ the person screamed. The vial had been taken from her hand. That much she knew.
Clarity struck her. Owen was bashed on the side of the head with some sort of spear. He went sprawling to the ground. Cam felt the gasp curling from her tongue. Her vision swam, but she saw Fiera bending over Caleb, sobbing while snakes circled and crawled upon them both.
“Move, Cam. Move!” she screamed to herself. Cam writhed with all her strength until she found she was on both feet. Serpents clung to her, but she had no other thought than to climb. “Just. Get. Out.”
Her vision was clearing somewhat, but her head was still throbbing and spinning. Cam stumbled and halted, her eyes widening and then narrowing. “What…” was all she could muster. Hundreds of them were twitching on the floor of the pit. Waning hisses fading. Dying. And there was smoke… Cam could smell it now and now realized that it was the smoke that was part of the reason she couldn't see. Laughter and sobs alike erupted from her mouth. She stumbled towards Caleb, landing hard on her knees beside Fiera. The rest of their company was rushing towards them, and Cam barely noticed the smoldering arena above. And that Silva was nowhere to be seen.
Cam saw blue eyes. Peter’s eyes. His concerned gaze. And then
she groaned at all the pain. In her legs, arms, neck, head... “No, don’t move, Cam. You’re alright.”
“Caleb,” she whimpered.
“He’s…alive. And Fiera is too.” Peter’s voice was soft. “Did we win?” she inquired weakly.
Peter gave her a small smile. “They told me about the
fire.”
“What fire?” But she was beginning to remember the
smoke and smoldering smell of snake flesh. And not hearing
anything but chaos.
“The fire that Owen said had erupted from nowhere,
burned the entire arena down, and had Silva fleeing from the
spot. You don’t remember it?” Peter’s eyes narrowed. Cam’s gaze was blank as she shook her head. “Not
really…”
Peter edged closer his hand coming to tilt her face up just
a bit. “How did you feel?”
“Like everything inside of me is being stabbed.” Peter
laughed softly. “How long have I been out?”
“A whole day.”
Cam groaned slightly. “Owen!” she gasped the next
instant. She would have sprung from her position if Peter had not pinnedher down. “He…hewas hit…andtherest…if thearena
was burned down…”
“They are all alive.” He gulped. “Even the queen.” “Peter…I-I’m poisoned, right? I’m not quite myself.
There was… one of them bit my head...”
“Well, I’dsaynot. Youlooklikeanightmare, butno, Cam,
there is no poison that is evident. Fiera said there had been a
large spot on your head where you had been bitten. It’s
completely vanished. The reason you feel weak now is because of
overexertion. You will not die. I’m sure of it.” Peter’s fingers
slipped between hers, his palm warm against her own. His
thumb brushed the back of her hand, and the feeling was the only
thing Cam focused on until another thought hit her. Her eyes widened, andsheshookher headin denial. “You
used the last of the Medulla on me, didn’t you?” Peter only
stared. “You did!” she accused.
“The Medulla magic,” Peter said slowly, “does not cure
poison. At least not that of Imber Fel. But...it seems to have
healed the snake inflicted wound…”
“Iwouldstrangleyounowif…” shetrailedoffin a rasping
voice of anger. “Your leg?”
Peter’s expression darkened. “An infection has begun,”
he said slowly. “And...and the others have some injuries. Burns.
Some are more minor than others.
“And Caleb?” Cam choked.
Peter gave her a grave look. His lips parted, but minutes
passed before he could form words. “I do not believe he will
survive. Not unless we find Adria and the other hostages who can
heal. You have to go to Silva with a challenge, Cam. You have to
defeat her.”
“I know just what to do,” shemurmured. She would have
smiled, but that would only bring further pain.
Peter grasped her hand. “I need you to do one thing for
me first.”
“And the great dragon was thrown down, that ancient serpent, who is called Lucius, the deceiver of the whole world— he was thrown down to the earth, and his allies were thrown down with him.”
-Song of Caelae
Thirty-One “Finally…”
The one word Cam breat hedas sheenteredSilva’s throne room without Shadow Bearers flanking her. The Queen's back was to her, stiff and straight beneath dripping chains.
Cam’s back was not exposed, but it might as well have been. Or it would be anyway. But it was damp enough already in the throne room that wearing nothing wouldn't have made much of a difference.
Cam didn’t need to clear her throat or say anything. Silva heard the doors swing shut and turned. Her eyes widened and mouth opened. Through gritted teeth, she flashed her eyes to the Shadow Bearers flanking the doorway. “I did not summon her. So why, might I ask, is she here?”
“Does it really matter to you?” Cam cut in, “Why they let mecomehere? BecauseI believe youalready know.” Shecrossed her arms and locked her gaze with the queen’s.
Silva finally met Cam’s eyes, her own gaze molten steel. Both were seeing the smoldering arena. The blue flames. The destruction. And Cam knew the story she would fabricate now. She just needed to thread in a motive. “And add Ilea and Leviathan to it,” she had said to Peter. “To make it more believable.”
Cam turned to gaze from the queen as if to pretend she was considering her next words. But instead, she glanced at the strange lighting patterns she had now adjusted to. It was morning. “Perfect. Just enough time for her to spend her time trying to wrap her mind around this one.”
Silva spoke at last. “You burned my arena,” she said, her voice so very light and calm. But Cam didn’t need to look at the queen to know that her eyes boiled with fury.
Cam cracked a smiled. “So I heard.”
“When did he Mark you?” Silva whispered. Slowly, Cam turned to return the queen’s gaze, but she did not answer the question.
“Be as much of a Shadow Bearer as you can, Cam,” she told herself.
“Why, Camaria?” Silva’s voice was soft. Too soft like the purr of a cat about to pounce on its prey.
Cam willed her gaze to cut like steel. “Because, Mother, as you’ve said, I came here out of my own vengeance. But it was not just my own.”
Silva’s lips parted, and she stumbled back onto her throne, her hands clutching the ends of the arms. “Leviathan sent you here?”
Cam nodded, savoring the lie. She stepped closer, her own arms crossing. “You see...I had to face you and all your wrath for a while before he could Mark me.” Silva’s eyes narrowed. “Good. That explains letting the first three rounds go.”
Silva’s eyes wavered, and her voice was a whisper of ice. “He sent you to punish me for letting Ilea go all those years ago. For trusting her.”
“Perfect. And she actually believes Leviathan to be alive. I suppose after neither returned she assumed him to be the victor. No, she made
it that way whether she believed it or not.” Cam didn’t need to nod.
Silence passed until Silva’s eyes, which had been roving the floor as she turned thoughts in her mind, snapped up and she said, “But you do know where the Crown is. Or rather, Ilea does and has thus made it known to you.” Silva shook her head, disbelief clouding her expression. “I knew that whoring spy was a traitor. Leviathan's whore.”
Cam tensed, and she tried not to clench her fists. “I don’t particularly like theScarletSpy but there’s no reason to call her that.” But her voice was cool when she finally did speak, “I am prepared to commence round four and put an end to our game.”
Silva’s expression remained somewhat absent as she replied with, “You no doubt won the last round. That I will give you credit for. You’ve outdone yourself, I must say.” Silva snapped to the present, a smile creeping across her face. “For your achievements, I have chosen to host a ball tonight in your honor. If you wish, your final round can be conducted following the festivities.”
Cam gritted her teeth. “What’s the catch?”
Her back burned.
Silva sighed and spoke as if utterly exhausted. “No catch, Camaria.”
“You’ll poison me.”
Silva shook her head.
“Or...whip me in front of everyone.” Cam swallowed the lump in her throat into the blooming ache in her chest. “I will burn your fortress to the ground if anything happens to me or my company. Leviathan will let it happen. Understood?”
“Perfectly,” Silva returned with an unauthentic smile lifting her lips. “I will have you dressed in proper attire this evening before the ball commences. My favorite people from the cities will be present.”
“The cities are empty.”
“Not theundergroundcities,” Silva smirked. Coldtingled over Cam. How many people were under Silva’s domain? “You will be my only guest among your company. No one else is to attend.”
Cam turned on her heel and departed from the room.
No Shadow Bearers awaited her. No one to escort her to her cell which, by now, wouldn't be a task in finding. “They’re too afraid. I could go anywhere. I could leave…” And she would wonder before going back to their cell to finish planning. But first…
“Key in the chamber of the king. Follow the crows. Unlock the keep. Free the Band of the Banished.”
Cam’s breath in the empty passage seemed too loud. And her
steps too. She glanced over her shoulder, half expecting a Shadow Bearer to emerge. Whip in hand. But she was alone. She had been walking for a long time now. Long enough that she had decided night was nearing by the shifting of the strange light through tiny, circular windows just beyond the doors flanking the passageway. She halted in a patch of light cast on the floor through one of these such windows. The light was nearly white, somewhat gray. Normal. And then it was blocked.
Cam whipped her head to the window and perched before it was a creature. black and small with a sharp beak. “Follow the crows...at last,” she breathed. She stepped forward, the sound startling the bird. Its beak flew open and a single cawing note penetrated the still air. Cam watched as the bird flew past her into the hall. A smaller caw echoed, and she saw the second one, the one which was perched on a crooked frame in the hall.
The second crow dipped into the passage and both flew down the corridor. Cam followed, her steps feeling surer, her heart rising in her chest. “Follow the crows. How didIleaknow? And why do the crows lead to the king’s chamber?” She dismissed the questions as she began to notice that the birds knew she was following them. They knew her purpose, for every now and then they would cease their flying and perch in places where Cam could see them until she had caught up.
The passage grew darker but dipped into light every so often. Enough light that Cam could glimpse the wings of the crows in the shafts of airy gray.
And then...they vanished. Where to, Cam could not tell, but she halted. The sight before her wouldn't let her move onward even if the crows had.
Cam’s fingers drifted to trace the fabric before her of the enormous tapestry. The designs were so intricate, that standing this close, she could only see parts of the whole picture. She stumbled back under its sheer size and saw the entire depiction.
Her mouth fell open, her eyes wide and wandering over the image. Two women: one fully clothed and another nearly naked. Both wearing crowns, one made of starlight and the other made of briars and roses. And they were looking at one another, their eyes so lifelike that…
Cam knew. She knew everything. “Silva...you made this. After your father lost the throne.” The thought trailed off as Cam’s eyes roved the nearly naked woman’s form and the crown of rose and briars on her head. She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing to peer at a single word written beneath each of the women.
“Andella,” she whispered. “A name for Silva and...Briar.” Cam stumbled back, her heart racing. “For the woman sheloved. Briar. Sothat’s whyshechosethatname. And the roses…this woman had loved them.”
And she knew then that just beyond this would be the King’s Chamber. It only made sense that this woven fabrication would be placed here. Cam pushed aside the tapestry with unsteady hands and placed shaking fingers on the knob. She pushed inward. The door was unlocked. It swung open.
The room beyond held more light than Cam had seen in days. Weeks. Moons. And it was as if the kiss of dawn bathed this room in a shimmering gray as peaceful as Cam’s heart now felt in her chest.
And it was so quiet. A quietness that had one tiptoeing as if not to disturb it. Cam held her breath. One foot in front of the other. Her eyes roved the room, finding fragments of glass broken on the walls and rusted goblets filled with jewels and pearls. And vases with roses. Dead roses like ash on withering stems.
Cam nearly tripped, her foot brushing against something soft on the ground. She almost jumped back before noticing that it was merely a rag. No, not a rag. She bent, her fingers reaching for it. “A doll.” One very worn and deformed. But still a doll with a slip of parchment tied at its arm. Cam unrolled it and found that the parchment was so worn it was beginning to crumble in her hold.
The words were in the tongue of Mingroth, Cam guessed, but therewerethree words sherecognized. “Silva” and“Andella” and “Fordásos, forest,” Cam breathed. Silva had used the word before. One used when she had glanced wistfully into the depths of Medulla. Cam had never questioned it.
“Your father gave this to you, didn’t he?” Cam asked aloud knowing no one would hear her. She clutched the doll in her hand before placing it in the pouch also occupied by the stones for her slingshot. She would keep it, and she did not know why. It was a memory, a good memory it seemed, that she would not leave here.
Cam then remembered the reason she was here and glanced up, her eyes roving the room more fervently. The sooner she could find it, the better. She spied a trunk in the corner. “Perfect. Silva would probably bury the key under much else to keep it from her own sight. Though, I doubt she ever comes in here.”
When Cam lifted the trunk and a cloud of dust had her coughing, she found that there was little inside. Some wandering parchment drenched in the dust with little to no writing scrawled upon it. A discarded mask and shards of a mirror. A ribbon and a feather. All were fragments of a once innocent princess turned to a serpent of a queen.
Frustration boiledin Cam’s chest. With a cry reflectingit, she pushed the trunk and kicked it until it was toppling over and its contents scattering. She sank to the floor, her breathing heavy and heart pounding. “Where is it?” she hissed. Cam buried her head in her hands but only for a moment. “Keep looking,” she whispered through tears of frustration now pressing from her eyes. “Keep looking.”
And it was then, when she glanced up, that she saw the bottom of the trunk and the key-shaped section carved into it. Hurriedly, she grasped the trunk and dragged it into the light. Upon peering at it, she found that there was indeed a key shoved into a carved part of the woo
d. And set in the top of the key was the tiniest emerald.
Cam laughed with hysteria. “At last.” Ilea’s words echoed in her mind and came from her mouth. “Free the Band of the Banished.”
Shadow Bearers did not appear until the evening, and even
then, they did not force Cam to wear chains for fear of what she might do. Or, at least, what they thought she could do. They led her without blindfold up the winding stairs and through a maze of passages and chambers until she found herself within a brightly lit room before an enormous bed and dancing fire. The room was draped in gold and green.
If she were alone, she might make herself quite comfortable out of spite. But she was not. Two small scaled creatures were hobbling towards her, masks fastened to their eyes. And they were not the fancy face wear masks at Silva’s balls but full facial masks of iron with no detail. No slits for the eyes, for there probably weren’t any eyes. Just enough space carved out for the mouths. Various clothing was draped over their arms.
Cam tensed as their hands brushed over her skin to adorn her with whatever Silva had felt necessary. Their hands moved over her skin like they already had her memorized like they knew what she looked like without having ever seen her. Cam breathed in. Out. “I have only to play Silva’s game tonight. Then this will all be over.” The Shadow Bearers were silent. “Probably unable to speak. But servants of an evil queen would be expected to remain silent, anyway.”
They stripped Cam of her filth laden clothing and scrubbed her until she sparkled. Scrubbed every part of her but her back. They sprayed and rubbed her with ointments so that she became fragrant with spice. She stood naked before them as they braided her hair and painted her face. She cast looks of disgust at her reflection in a mirror hanging from the wall. She looked too much like Silva. She appeared to be a doll being dressed up for the view of others.
She didn’t come to full realization that she was indeed something to be displayed until the Shadow Bearers slipped over her head the garment of Silva’s choice. With a high-reaching neck and form-fitting sleeves, the dress was opened completely in the back, exposing her blistering wounds to the cold air and to chains that scraped them with every little movement. The garment fell in sheer lengths past her knees but left her legs to fight the chilling draft. Despite the thin silk and the fact that the clothing left little to the imagination, Cam lifted her chin high and pushed her shoulders back. She clasped her hands before her and turned when the door of the chamber swung open.
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