Ducking and weaving, I moved effortlessly between the towers, over the walls, and into the city proper. I liked flying low to the ground. The risk of crashing into something offered a real sense of risk I liked. I wouldn’t hurt myself from falling, but I felt like it would be a totally different story if I flew head first into the side of a building.
No one had tested that theory that I knew of, and I didn’t plan on being the first. Still, I was a demon in the air, a little white dart in a dress, zipping past the Aevians below. Some were taking lovers’ strolls along the city square, others were closing up shop for the night, most of them, however, would soon be fast asleep. Most of Dawn slept from sunset to sunrise.
That suited Draven and me just fine because the sun impaired his ability to see properly… that, and with his black wings and black eyes, he wouldn’t have been allowed anywhere near our city. Our houses were at war, and so we had no choice but to sneak around, break rules, and meet in secret. It was nothing short of exhilarating.
I landed close to the door that would lead me into the secret tunnel where Draven and I would meet. I didn’t want to land too close just in case someone spotted me, so when my feet touched down, I continued the rest of the way by foot. I clung to the corners of buildings like a shadow, keeping my kithe firmly tucked behind me and my feet as light as I could, but there were few Aevians around who would notice me stalking the streets this late at night.
My heart started hammering against my chest as I reached the door. I always got nervous the moments before entering the secret tunnel. Draven and I had been meeting for a long time, and the anxiety had never gone away. Maybe it was the fear that I’d go down there and he wouldn’t show, that he’d leave me waiting and waiting, only to never show up.
So far, he hadn’t let me down. I couldn’t see why tonight would be any different. Still, that push against my chest intensified as I made it through the inner door that opened into the final stretch of corridor. There, on the other side of the corridor, was the door to the outside.
I didn’t know if anyone besides me knew about this place. I’d never seen anyone go in or out of this passage, and the way in here was always closed. Not just closed, but locked. I had to use magic to unlock the seal and let myself in. It seemed weird that this corridor out of the city existed. There had to be a reason for it, but I couldn’t find it.
Once I was on the other side, I waited by the door which led to the wind. Beyond that door was a balcony made of marble from which you could easily see the world below. From tiny torches and chimneys that marked the presence of towns, to rolling mountains and hills, vast and mighty rivers, and even the ocean.
I rarely went out there. Instead, I’d walk up to the door, press my hand against it, and unlock the magic seal keeping it shut. I’d then step away and wait for Draven to arrive. Sometimes he’d be waiting as soon as I unlocked it. Other times he’d take a little while to show up. But he always did; he was always there… except this time.
The moments had passed, and I knew, he should’ve been here by now. I could already feel my heart starting to clench and release, clench and release, creating a fracture—a rip—that would be hard to fix. I decided I would head outside, to see if I could maybe catch sight of him as he flew toward the balcony, but the door opened inches before I reached it, and there was Draven.
My heart leapt, my entire chest warming just at the sight of him… and then it sank when I saw the others standing behind him. My eyes widened, my hand immediately flew to my chest as I backed away.
“Draven?” I asked.
“Surrender,” he said, “I won’t ask again.”
“What? Wait, what is this? What are you doing?”
The men at his back pushed around him, moving into the tunnel and closer to me. Ahead of them was a large, broad-shouldered guy with dark hair, deep black eyes, and a scar running down the side of his face. He was wearing armor—light chainmail, I thought—and wielding a longsword. He pointed at me.
“You’re coming with us,” he snarled.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“We’ll see about that.” He grinned at me, and then he swung his sword.
My instincts again kicked in, this time forcing me to duck. The sword cut a line through the air, but missed my head, though only just. He was wearing armor and wielding a sword. I was unarmed, unarmored, and only wearing a flimsy little dress I’d picked out for Draven’s enjoyment.
Clearly, the best thing I could do was engage this guy in close combat and beat the living hell out of him. I kicked him, but not in the gut—in the kneecap. Groaning, he fell on his other knee, pushing his hands out to stop his fall.
With his attention diverted away from me, and his head at just the right level, I took two steps away and launched my foot into the side of his face. Contact. The hit was true and hard. There was a loud crack where my foot had struck his cheek. He groaned again, his head turned sideways, and spat blood into the wall.
Most importantly, he’d lost his grip on his sword.
I reached for it before he could regain his bearings and bashed him on the side of the head with the pommel. Lights out. The soldier hit the floor, and I could be sure he wouldn’t be getting back up. But already there were more of them. This next soldier had moved in quickly, and was already preparing to attack.
Run, Seline!
I turned around and ran as fast as I could with one sole purpose in mind. Sound the alarm. Sound the alarm, get the guards, alert the city. The House of Night was here, they’d snuck in through a secret corridor, and now they were here, and who knew what the hell they were going to do to the city if they managed to take it?
Oh Gods! This is my fault!
My heart hammered against my throat, my palms were cold and sweaty, and my chest had started to tighten from the realization that I’d caused this. I’d told Draven about our city’s hidden entrance and he’d used it to… but why would he? How could he? Had our relationship been a lie? A long con he’d played to get to this exact moment?
I had the wrong things on my mind. I was theorizing and working things out in my head, when I should’ve been focusing on making sure each and every one of my next steps was perfect. If even one of them fell out of line, people would die. These soldiers hadn’t exactly come here to talk politics—they’d come armed, and ready to storm the city.
I could hear them coming after me even as I reached the door that would take me into the city. I shut it at my back, and sealed it with magic as best I could, but I wasn’t my mother. If I was her, the soldiers wouldn’t have a chance at breaking through. The spell I’d put into place would hold, but not for long. And if they’d brought a sorcerer with them, it’d crumble even faster.
The streets were deathly silent when I emerged from the tunnel. Not a soul in sight, not a single bird chirping. Unfurling my wings, I took to the skies on a bounding leap and headed straight for the Watch Commander’s tower knowing full well every second that went by was another chance the soldiers had broken through.
I saw two guards in the distance, posted at the top of the tower, the light from a brazier illuminating their golden armor. I waved at them as I approached, yelling for them. One of them drew their swords, but the other pointed at me—probably recognized me—and told the other guard to put his sword away.
By the time I reached them, I was out of breath from exertion.
“Sound… the alarm,” I gasped.
“At once, your highness,” one of the guards said, and he turned around and headed for the bell-tower, launching himself into the air, his powerful wings vaulting him across the sky. He hadn’t asked any questions, hadn’t wanted an explanation. He’d just done as I’d asked. Being a princess was pretty cool.
The other soldier stared at me. “What would you have me do, princess?” he asked.
“Draw your sword,” I said, “Summon as many guards as you can; bring all of the Watch, any who are available. The House of Night is here, I don’t know how ma
ny, but they’ll be upon us soon.”
“The House of Night… but how?” his eyes were wide with disbelief. Surely, the kingdom’s spies would’ve informed them of an impending attack? From an army, sure—but this looked more like an elite raiding force. A small band of soldiers sent in to take the city while we slept.
“That isn’t important for now,” I said, “Go! People’s lives depend on you.”
The guard nodded, turned, and headed into the tower. As he disappeared, the city’s warning bells began to toll. Only one at first, a single, lonely sound ringing out through the city, but then more joined in as the sound spread and other towers acknowledged the warning. But it was too late. Already I could hear the singing of steel on steel, already I could feel the prickle of magic as it ripped through the air.
I raced over to the other end of the tower, grabbed a longbow and quiver from the rack, and prepared myself for battle. By the time I was armed, two soldiers from the House of Night were descending on me. I loosed the arrow I’d drawn and it struck one of the soldiers in the arm-pit—the fleshiest part I could find.
He groaned loudly, his voice echoing through the night, and then started to spin out of control. The soldier hit the tower’s stone floor chest first like a sack of bricks, but the second was fresh, and he was wielding knives. He threw one at me, and I had to drop the longbow in order to roll out of its lethal path.
By the time I recovered, the knife-wielder had landed in front of me and was thrusting with his other hand. I picked up my sword and parried the blade, but somehow, he’d sprouted another knife, and he jabbed at me with it. This time, the knife bit into my right bicep, drawing blood. Grinding my teeth, I turned what would’ve been a scream of pain into a war cry, and I threw myself at him, my sword swinging in quick, furious arcs.
The soldier hadn’t expected me to be this good with a blade, but I was fluid, deadly, each one of my strokes precise and quick. It took all he had just to parry my attacks. One slip, and I’d have him—I’d run the tip of the blade through one of his vital organs and he’d die on this tower with his friend. Then there’d be one less soldier to deal with; one less chance that the city would fall.
Someone grabbed my injured arm, digging fingers into the wound. This time, I screamed. I even dropped my sword from the pain. It clattered to the floor, inert, useless. Spinning around despite the pain, I placed my other palm against the soldier’s chest and yelled, “Veshrim!” Magic light blasted out of my hand and pushed into his chest, but he didn’t fly back like he should’ve. Instead, the magic broke against his body like a wave against a cliff.
He didn’t move. It didn’t hurt him. It was like he was immune.
I turned my eyes up at him, not believing that he’d just absorbed my magic like that. What the hell kind of sorcery was this? Then I saw his face. That perfect face I’d come to love. Those raised cheekbones, those sharp, black eyes, those full lips. It was him. Draven. He was staring at me, not like he didn’t know me, but like he hated me. Even in the blackness of his eyes, I could see the venom, the anger.
“Dra…” I couldn’t get the word out.
“You’re coming with me,” he said, but his voice was cold and cruel. “Your highness.”
Who would’ve thought reclaiming your memories would be such a headfuck?
I woke up like I always did, with my chest tight and covered in a tin film of sweat. This time, I clutched my right bicep too, phantom pain from the dream still lingering. I checked my arm for signs of blood, or a cut. Nothing. Only clean, pink flesh. I sighed and let my head rest on the pillow, though not before turning it around—I’d drenched it with sweat while I slept.
The dreams were coming more regularly now. Ever since I’d taken a hit of whatever powder Romeo had given me, my memories had been coming back in staggered flashes. Now, though, they were really hitting me hard, and they weren’t slipping out of my fingers when I woke, either. I could still play the dream through in my head. All of it. From the moment my mother introduced me to the stones, to the moment Draven grabbed me by the arm.
Crap, it still hurt.
It was dark out. I remembered… I’d taken a nap in the afternoon. I hadn’t been feeling great, and lying down helped the room stop spinning. Now it was dark, probably late in the evening. The sounds of New York floated in through Bastet’s kitchen window; sirens, cars, people. I hadn’t realized it until now, but I had at least a handful of cats sleeping on or around me on the sofa.
They hadn’t been there when I fell asleep. I half expected Rey to have been one of those cats, but he wasn’t present. It was almost a crime to move them, but once I’d fully woken up, there was no way I’d be going back to sleep. My brain was in overdrive after what I’d just dreamt. It wasn’t just what I’d been told about the stones, about the Gods, about my birthday. I didn’t want to, but I was thinking about Draven and what he had done that night, the terrible things he’d done.
I hadn’t forgiven him for instigating the destruction of my city… the removal of my kithe. I didn’t think I could. But the more I dreamt about that night, the more the details seemed to clear up, the more I started to see something that was going on behind the scenes. Draven wasn’t himself that night. Something was different. Wrong.
Very wrong.
Slowly, because I didn’t have the heart to kick them all off at once, I rose to a seated position. The cats all hopped off except one, who didn’t seem to care that I was nudging it to get off my lap. It looked up at me, sleepily, its ears twitched, and it went back to sleep. “I’m going to call you Fate,” I said, stroking the little ginger cat, “Because I could never get her to wake up properly.”
Bastet emerged from her bedroom wearing a long t-shirt and underwear. “Morning,” she said, yawning.
“Morning?” I asked. “It’s… shit, after ten.”
“It’s morning somewhere.” She walked over to the kitchen, pulled a carton of milk from the fridge, and poured herself a bowl of cereals. “Sleep well?”
“Not really.”
“Another dream?”
“Always… is it weird that I want them to stop?”
She shook her head. “No. I get it. Your wonderful little brain is totally overloaded.”
“Little?”
“I also said wonderful.”
I frowned at her, picked the ginger cat up, and set it down on the floor. “I dreamt about him again, about that night.”
“And did you gleam anything new?”
Sighing, I approached the kitchen. “I don’t know. I think so. I still can’t remember what my city was called, or what my mother’s name was—or my brother’s. It’s names that are escaping me. Is that weird?”
“Honey, I really don’t know what’s weird and what’s not with you. You’re Aevian, not human. Your brain is different to mine. I wish I could tell you that you’ll remember their names in time, but I can’t because I’m not totally sure that you will.”
“That’s a comforting thought…”
She shrugged and ate a spoonful of cereal. “It’s the truth. The best you can do is piece together what you can and hope the rest will come. I wish I could help.”
“Thanks, but if you could’ve, I think you would’ve by now.”
“There are other mages out there who could help, but they’d expect payment of the kind you won’t want to give.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” I headed over to the fridge and plucked a can of soda from inside, then I looked over at Bastet. “Do you believe in the Gods?”
“Everybody believes something, sweetness. Even those who don’t believe in anything.”
I shook my head. “I’m remembering what my mother told me more clearly now. The day I fell through the rift and wound up here was only a few days before my eighteenth birthday… I was supposed to do something that day, recite a speech, an incantation. I can’t remember what I was supposed to say, even though I’d memorized it, but it had something to do with the Gods, with the stones.”
“Sounds important,” she said, crunching a mouthful of cereal. “What Gods are you talking about? I don’t know if you know this, but we’ve got thousands on this side of the rifts. Everybody with an asshole has an opinion on one or another.”
“Sure, but are they real?”
Bastet sighed. “Have I ever seen a God with my own eyes? No. Do I feel the presence of the divine, of something larger than me, than us? Yes. All the time. Literally everywhere. I can’t escape it.”
“That doesn’t really answer my question.”
“You’re asking a question humans have struggled to answer since the dawn of time. Mages haven’t done much better in that department, trust me. We fight and squabble over what’s real and what isn’t just as much as humans do. It’s embarrassing.”
I paused. “I think I met them… the Gods, I mean. Or I was supposed to meet them.”
“Meet seems like a strong word, kitty cat.”
“No, I mean it. My mother was pretty clear on what was going to happen to me on my eighteenth birthday. I was going to recite an incantation over the five stones and they were going to take me to meet the Gods. I was going to sign my name next to them… or something… and then I was going to inherit the stones, their power, the responsibility of looking after them.”
Bastet stopped chewing and stared at me from behind those deep, incisive eyes. “You’re not pulling my tail?”
“Why would I do that?”
“For kicks? I don’t know.” Another pause. “But you’re serious… you were going to meet the Gods?”
“That’s what my mother said… I don’t know if it ever happened.”
“Honey, if you met the Gods, you’d know.”
“Right? I feel like that’s something I’d remember.” I shook my head. “I can’t remember anything… fuck. Not the incantation, not even the speech I was supposed to give on my birthday. The only thing I do know was that I never made it to my birthday. I fell that same night.”
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