He breaks from his huddle and for one tiny second sees me, his lips twitching into a crooked smile. I smile back, but mine’s forced, because while I don’t feel bad at all about doing whatever it takes to win, I do feel a pang of guilt. I don’t feel bad cheating the system, but I do feel a little bad cheating him.
Aberdeen emerges, pacing down to stand by us, and he gives his big speech. I barely listen. There are only so many times I can hear the same platitudes. But I do notice how he looks at me, the way his gray eye flares. I can feel his breath on my neck and hear his whisper in my ear.
When the time comes for the Second Challenge? Lose.
Oh, I’m not losing today. I’m winning big, winning for all the Nethros who have put their faith and trust in me, for every student crushed by this island’s twisted hierarchy. If Aberdeen’s reputation hangs on me losing, he’s about to be in for one hell of a shock.
The horn sounds. The doors on the stone wall swing open, exposing long stairs leading down into murky darkness. Next to me, Desmond swallows, and Zigmund lets out a whoop. Fyl reaches over and squeezes my hand. “Whatever happens next,” she says, “we’re in this together.”
The underground maze is just as dark and unpleasant as I’d expected. The five of us hustle through a tight stone tunnel, barely wide enough for two to walk side by side. Dim orange lights flicker inside glass bricks, providing just enough light to get by. Cobwebs drape the ceiling, fluttering gently in a chill draft.
“So, not to make too big a deal out of this,” Desmond says, glancing uneasily over his shoulder. “But you all do realize that if we win this, it’s a big deal, right?”
“Of course,” Tish replies. “If we win this, we could win the whole Great Game.”
“No, I mean bigger than that. Bigger than this place. This will have real consequences,” Desmond says, and that comment seems particularly directed at me. “My father wrote to me. Everyone in Arbormont, in the damn Republic, is buzzing about how we won the First Challenge. A bunch of no-name Nethros coming up with a strategy that totally breaks the game and humiliates Marius Madison in the process? That’s the kind of story that spreads like wildfire… especially among Grandmaster Madison’s enemies.”
“Come on, you’re exaggerating,” I say, rounding a corner to find a forking path. Without skipping a beat, without even giving time for the others to ask, I guide us left.
“I’m not,” he insists. “According to my father, it actually came up on the Senate floor. Grandmaster Madison was giving a speech about the unstoppable might of his army, and some Reformer made a joke about what would happen if they had to go up against a ‘Nethro schoolgirl.’ Madison got so mad, his allies had to drag him off the floor.” Desmond shakes his head, and I struggle to wrap my mind around it. What I’m doing here is making ripples through the Republic, all the way to the Senate floor. That means Whispers has to know. Is she proud… or furious?
“So what if it’s a big deal?” Zigmund says in his heavy Velkschen accent. “It’s good if Madison is mad. He is a… as you say… shit-drinker?”
“Absolutely no one says that,” Desmond replies. “My point is, one challenge could still be a fluke. But if we win two…”
“Then we’ll have made names for ourselves.” Fyl pats Desmond’s shoulder, and he instantly relaxes. “And our parents will be proud. Sooner or later. Isn’t that right, Alayne?”
“Of course,” I say, and for once, it’s not a lie. The path in front of us forks three ways, and I guide us left without even thinking. The others don’t question it; that’s why I picked them. Soon enough a stone slab looms in front of us, blocking our path. The first puzzle.
“What are we looking at here?” Desmond asks.
Five buttons jut out of the wall, each engraved with a letter. A carved slab at the top depicts a majestic hawk carrying a Loci in each claw, one an elegant sword, one a fine blackwood branch. “That’s the symbol of the old Senate Grandmaster,” Tish offers. “Drakovian era, I think? Around 321?”
I wait a second to see if they’ll crack any more of it, but Tish falters. Still, a good start. “Senate Grandmasters of that era, then,” I say, trying to sound like I’m actually piecing it together. “Maybe these are the first letters of their last names, and we pick them in order of tenure?” I step forward, pressing the buttons as I talk, and they slide in with a satisfying crunch. “Gabrus, Vorschak, Deranis, Ellarious, Volodya?”
There is a long, low rumble, the hum of infused magic. The slab rumbles, pulsing with energy, and then slides open. Behind it is a room where a single sparkling gem rests on a pedestal, framed by three doors leading deeper in.
The others all gape at me. “You… you are… smartest person… in world,” Zigmund says, and Desmond nods. “What he said.”
“I just got lucky,” I say, and really hope they’ll buy that. As they stare at me in incredulity, I walk to the pedestal, pick up the gem, and slide it into the bag at my hip. “Now come on. One down. Twenty-nine more to go.”
CHAPTER 34
Then
I am seventeen when I cheat the Second Challenge.
The plan is all Marlena’s, and it’s equal measures brilliant and dangerous. The idea came to her in, of all things, an announcement to the Humble servants: for the week following the challenge, Groundskeeper Tyms would be busy resetting the maze to its initial state, so they would all have to work extra hours.
The other Humble servants groaned, but Marlena’s mind whirled with possibilities. Tyms is a Wizard, but a mediocre one at best. There’s no way he has the knowledge to reset this maze on his own. That means there are instructions for how to reset the puzzles written down somewhere. Instructions that could just as easily provide all the solutions. And there’s just one place they could be.
We meet up a week before the Second Challenge, huddled in the bushes outside the library. It’s the middle of the night and the lanterns are off, so the two of us sit quietly in total darkness, the air so cold our breath lingers around us. This is our third attempt at getting into the professors’ wing. The first night Professor Calfex was there, working late; the second, Groundskeeper Tyms was doing rounds. But the third time’s the charm, because the library is quiet and dark and empty, not a soul in sight.
We make our way through the dark to the building’s side door, the one Humbles use. The library is eerie at night, the shelves looming over us like obelisks, casting long, grasping shadows in the pale moonlight. I have no idea where we’re going, but Marlena does, so I follow her through the stacks, winding around the familiar tables, up a flight of stairs, and to an ominous towering door.
“What now?” I whisper. “Do we need to pick the lock?”
“Why would we do that?” She shoots me a sly smile and pulls a key out of her pocket. It blinks and pulses with magical energy, the metal trembling almost like it’s fluid. I gape at it, which she must notice. “It’s a skeleton key to the entire campus. I stole it off Groundskeeper Tyms while he was drunk. The best part is, he’ll be too worried about getting in trouble to report that it’s stolen.”
“Marlena!” I gasp. What we did in the First Challenge had been risky, but that risk had fallen squarely on me. I can take it. She shouldn’t have to. “That’s so dangerous… if you’d been caught…” I shake my head. “You shouldn’t have done that for me.”
“I didn’t do it for you. I did it for me,” she answers, and as her eyes burn hot with intensity and determination, I realize she means it. If there had ever been a point of hesitation, of uncertainty, we’ve long crossed it. She’s as committed to this as I am, as willing to risk it all, as willing to die. Part of me’s impressed. Another part’s terrified.
She jams the key into the lock. It trembles for one tense second, then with a hollow click springs open. The doors swing wide, revealing the forbidden room beyond: dozens and dozens and dozens of tall shelves overflowing with books and scrolls.
The professors’ wing is one of the most forbidden areas of the whole c
ampus, an entire half of the library dedicated solely to materials for the staff: personal research projects, high-level books to be taught with discretion, and procedural documents like the maze instructions. Any student caught inside would be instantly expelled, branded an apostate. Any Humble caught inside would be killed.
But Marlena doesn’t hesitate as she leads the way with a tiny lantern that fits into the palm of her hand, a disk glowing with the faintest light. She moves with an expert’s precision, consulting a heavy index tome at the front desk and then weaving through the stacks, trying to find the precise book we need. I have no idea what she’s doing, and I don’t need to. I just marvel at the wealth of forbidden knowledge around us, my mind racing at the possibilities of everything I could learn. I see heavy tomes wrapped in chains, scrolls that quiver like flesh, maps that flicker with inner light. The air is so thick with magic I can feel it vibrating in my bones.
“Here!” she says at last, stopping in front of a shelf stacked high with hundreds of little paper books, all labeled by number. “Give me a minute. I’ll find the right one.”
“Sure,” I say, and turn around to keep a lookout. That’s when I see it. The far wall of the library is adorned with paintings of the faculty, dozens and dozens of them. A particular year catches my eye though, 781, and in it, a particular face.
The school faculty stands on a set of risers wearing formal robes, smiles plastered across their faces. The year 781 was just sixteen years ago, so many of them are familiar. There’s Professor Hapsted with a full head of hair, and Magnus Aberdeen standing tall, and Groundskeeper Tyms looking basically the same. Professor Calfex stands in front looking remarkably young, her hair black and wild and curly down to her waist, her eyes bright.
But it’s the man next to her that I’m staring at. Pale skin. Messy red hair. A pair of delicate spectacles resting on his pointy nose.
My father.
The last time I saw him was ten years ago, but I remember his face perfectly, and there’s no doubt, this is him. I’d known he was a powerful Wizard before he defected, but none of the Revenants knew what he did. It makes sense now, so much sense. The way he read, delicate and patient, just like a teacher. The massive chest of books we hauled wherever we went. The way Aberdeen spoke to him, etched into my memory like a carving in stone, the way he called him old friend.
I don’t know how to process this. I don’t know where to begin. My father had been a professor here. Here. He’d probably sat in this room, maybe stood in this very spot. What had he been like? Had he lectured with kindness and patience, read to classrooms of students the way he read to me? Had he argued with Aberdeen, pushed for reform? Or had he sat in the stadium during games of Balitesta, cheering as students bled and died? Had he and Aberdeen actually been friends?
I’ve never engaged with my father’s past before he defected. I’ve never had to. But it lurks around me now, a great murky darkness, one I’m terrified to acknowledge lest it swallow me whole. How much harm had my father done in his life? How much blood was on his hands?
“Alayne?” Marlena asks quietly. “What are you looking at?”
“I—it’s—this painting—” I stammer, my words interrupted as I let out the breath I’ve been holding, as I scramble to find a way to play this. “Amazing how young Calfex looks!” I try at last.
She stares at me quizzically, then shrugs. “She does look quite young, I suppose,” she says, and then mercifully moves on. “But look! I found it! The guide to resetting the maze!”
“That’s it?” I ask. It’s a small book, maybe fifty pages long, as big as my hand. She flips through the pages under her lantern, and I can make out densely written instructions and even what looks like a map.
“Oh, this is it, all right. All the puzzle solutions. All the directions. Everything. This is all you need to win the game,” she says, her white grin shining in the soft light. “Give me a few days, and I’ll have this copied over and we can put it back.” Her hands are shaking with excitement as she tucks the book into her bag and she can’t contain a laugh. “I can’t believe it. It’s all right here. And it’s so simple! Any student could have done this, all this time!”
“No student would have thought of it,” I say, and her joy is infectious. I forget the painting, forget my father, forget that murky darkness. Let the past stay the past. What matters is the present, the future. “No other person would’ve thought of it.” The weight of this hits me even as I say it, even as I realize it’s true. Marlena’s been helping me for so long I’ve lost sight of just how remarkable she is, always ten steps ahead of everyone else while managing to act like she’s ten steps behind. She’s the smartest godsdamned person on this island, and no one knows it. “Only you.”
She stares at me, and maybe it’s just the shadows cast by the flickering light in the palm of her hand, but it feels almost like her face shifts as it runs an impossible gamut of emotions, at once happy and sad and worried and thrilled. Finally, she just looks down, cheeks flushed.
“Are you all right?”
“I am,” she whispers. “I’ve just… never had someone believe in me before. Not like this. I hadn’t known what that was like.”
I want to say something to that, but I don’t know where to begin. Even as I search for words, we hear footsteps approaching and hear the unmistakable phlegmatic wheezing of Groundskeeper Tyms. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” I whisper instead and we bolt out, streaking through the stacks, down the stairs, into the night.
“Huh?” Tyms’s voice calls behind us. “Who’s there?” But it’s too late, because we’re already gone. We run and run and run and when we’re sure we’re out of sight, we collapse into a snowbank, huddling together in that soft, cold white.
The night hangs dark around us, hiding us like a cloak. In that moment, it feels like everything’s vanished except the two of us, lying there, pressed together, holding our breaths, just the warmth of our bodies shielding against the cold of the snow. “Are we safe?” I whisper at last.
“I think so,” she replies. “There’s no way Tyms has the stamina to chase us this far.”
I let out a little laugh, but when I look up, she isn’t laughing. She’s looking at me, our faces just inches apart, her eyes wide and vulnerable. I can’t read her expression, not entirely, but it feels open and tender. “Alayne,” she whispers quietly, and I want to look away from her but I can’t. “I want you to know something. Whatever happens in the challenge, whatever happens next, I’m just so happy I met you. You make me feel like… like no one ever has.” She inhales sharply, nervously, and then edges just the tiniest bit closer, and now I feel my stomach flutter, feel that tingle of nerves in my palms. “When this is done, when we leave Blackwater… I’d like to stay with you. If you’ll have me.”
My breath is tight in my throat, “Stay with me…?”
“Wherever you go, whatever you do next,” she says, and she can’t quite bring herself to look at me, even though we’re almost touching, even though I can feel the warmth of her breath on my skin. Her knee touches mine, and it’s nothing and everything at the same time, and I lean forward, even though I don’t really mean to, so I’m pressing my thigh against her, so close I can feel her whisper.
“I’ll go with you,” she says. “I’ll help you. We’ll do it together.”
Wherever I go next. Oh, Gods. I haven’t even begun thinking about that. Assuming this all works, assuming we make it off this island, I’d go back to the Revenants. And I could take her with me. She’d fit in well, and she’d be damn useful. With that cunning intellect, she’ll be Whispers’s favorite in no time. If Marlena wants a cause to fight for, well, I’ve got that in spades.
But there’s a part of me that balks at the idea because… because I don’t want that for her. I don’t want to subject her to that brutal life, to the endless bloodshed, to Whispers’s cold cynicism. I don’t want her to become just another hardened killer, or worse, another body under a sheet. Marlena’s s
o vibrant, so brilliant, so alive and joyful; bringing her to the Revenants would be like putting a diamond in an abattoir.
She deserves better than that.
And so, I realize with a sudden clarity, do I.
It’s a shock of a thought, one that hits me like a gasp, one I’ve never dared engage with, not seriously, not really. From the minute Whispers took me into her arms, I’ve defined myself as a Revenant. It’s who I am. It’s what I am.
But what if it wasn’t? What if I never went back? What if I just lived?
I can’t believe I’m thinking like this, can’t believe I’m thinking of running, but I also can’t believe Marlena’s thigh pressed against me, can’t believe her hand on my side, can’t believe how full and soft her lips look, can’t believe the way the starlight dances off her eyes. I, oh, Gods, I—
I pull away sharply, sharply enough that I see her eyes widen with surprise. I can’t do this. I can’t let myself go down that route, can’t lose myself to fantasies and daydreams. I can’t let myself go soft. And I can’t bring her into my nightmare.
“Alayne?” she asks softly.
“I’m sorry,” I say, rising up, brushing off my shirt. “But when this is done, when we’re off the island, we have to go our separate ways.” Her brow crinkles with disappointment, and I have to look away. “It’s not personal. You’re amazing. It’s just… it’s… I… it’s just how it has to be. It’s for the best. For both of us.”
She sits there for one excruciating moment, then she exhales sharply. “All right,” she says, gazing out at the dark. “If you say so. If it’s for the best.”
There’s so much hurt in her voice that I want to step forward and hug her, but I know that’ll just make it worse, just chip away at this essential wall. So I clear my throat and turn away. “Come on,” I say, striding away from her into the dark. “Let’s head back.”
It Ends in Fire Page 25