Castle of Lies

by Kiersi Burkhart

  The hood slides right off his head and underneath . . . he has faded blond hair, long and tied back. Smooth, young skin. Bright green eyes with long lashes and dark eyebrows that are handsome, yet severe. He’s barely as old as we are.

  Next to me, Thelia covers her mouth. She saw too. “Melidia be damned,” she says. “Doesn’t he look like someone we know?”

  Forgren looks so much like a hillman, he could practically be Nul se Lan’s brother. Now I think I understand his false message to Sasel. A traitor in our midst this whole time.

  My stomach lurches as Forgren whispers something else in Morgaun’s ear. After the transaction’s complete, the court wizard rises from the table, adjusts his hood, and finds a different seat.

  Thelia whispers in Parsifal’s ear, and I glare at them. “All right, what am I missing?” I demand. They remind me of two squeaking mice, plotting and gossiping and hoarding secrets like they always have—and shutting me out.

  Thelia meets my eyes and for once, she lets me in. “Morgaun said he was going to burn everything down,” she says. “I think he means it.”

  Sapphire

  I’ve been summoned out to the castle courtyard, where I find Zylion kneeling, digging gray bones out of the ground like weeds. All across the courtyard, wriggling white fingers protrude from the cold mud, trying to escape from the earth.

  Zylion looks up at me. He holds out a spade and it leaps into my hand, ready to work. If only I were so ready. “The humans must have buried their dead here long ago,” he says, hacking at skeletal arms. “Now, they have all reanimated.”

  First it was the undead in the dungeon. Now this? At the nearest hand squirming for purchase in the dirt, I begin to dig. First the bony arm comes out, attached to the body by threads of ligament. Magic keeps it functioning.

  When Ferah’s cart is full of wriggling, exhumed corpses, we take it beyond the city gates and unload the skeletons onto the bare ground. We take a step back while Ferah explodes them, and then we begin again.

  Upon returning to the castle, I find Ellze waiting for me on the bridge. “I have been looking for you,” he says, flicking some of his green hair over one shoulder. He shouts up to the two elves on the wall. “Open it for us, will you? Today?”

  He is growing more and more overbearing. He loves to tell the soldiers what to do, and he loves even more when they obey. I barely recognize him. Something is changing among The People the longer we remain here.

  As I follow him inside, he gives me a disingenuous smile. “You are quiet.”

  “Nothing to say.”

  “Are you dissatisfied with something?”

  He wants me to say yes, to expose my displeasure with my role. Has he always been this way, or has this place changed him?

  The floor under my feet suddenly starts to shake. The sound travels down the halls toward us—a rumbling boom, coming from the other side of the castle.

  “What was that?” Ellze asks, eyes narrowing. Instead of conjecturing, I run toward the sound.

  We weave through the halls to the set of stairs closest to the source. Smoke funnels down toward us. Screams. Soldiers stamp down the stairs. “An explosion!” they yell. “Stay away from West Hall!”

  “I should tell the Commander immediately,” Ellze says. I, not we.

  By the time we reach the temple, the other Jaguars have arrived in the Commander’s chambers. We all felt it. Commander Valya rises slowly from his scattered piles of papers, armor, and weapons, as if his joints ache. His quarters are a mess I have never seen. Even his usually liquid hair looks tangled and dry.

  “What have you learned?” he asks.

  “A fire in one of the rooms caught,” Ferah says. Thus the explosion. “A section of West Hall is gone.”

  The Commander’s face is devoid of color. “It seems Magic is spilling out of the well faster, and in greater quantity, than any of us expected.” He sighs. “No more fires, anywhere in the castle. We cannot afford for the Magic to catch.”

  I gape at him. “Commander, it is the middle of winter.”

  “We will be fine,” Ellze says. “Have you never been cold before, little Sapphire?” A few of the other Jaguars laugh at me. But it is not us I worry about. Humans are fragile.

  “We have other concerns,” Commander Valya says. “The human King, despite our best efforts, died this morning. His body could not withstand being without wine any longer.”

  The Commander should have told me this hours ago. When I visited the King with breakfast, he was alive.

  “It will be much harder to control the humans once they suspect the worst,” he continues. “The sworn Lords of the Kingdom may move on the castle. If that happens, we will be forced to defend ourselves.”

  Not that it would be much of a fight. If humans gathered what remained of their forces and tried to advance on Melidihan, every last one of them would die. Ellze’s mouth tips up on one side, as if he hopes for exactly this to happen.

  “I want everyone to be prepared,” Commander Valya says. “Continue the operation as usual. But should the Magic grow too volatile to control any longer, we may have to abandon those humans we have not cleaned yet and collapse the castle anyway, so we can build the new hold and contain this catastrophe.”

  The rest of the Jaguars nod and clear out of the Commander’s quarters, but I stand outside the door, unable to move. Collapse the castle . . . with all of them still in it? Thelia and Parsifal are not scheduled to be cleaned for some time. They would certainly be among those left behind.

  This is not what we came here to do. Do no harm—that has been the backbone of The People for as long as I have been alive. What is becoming of us here? What has Commander Valya been thinking?

  I realize Ellze has not left yet when I hear him on the other side of the closed door. “We should fell the castle now. With such an abundance of Magic at our disposal, this new hold could be even stronger than Viteos.”

  Commander Valya’s voice is weak. “Indeed. But we must still contain it, which will be harder than ever now. We cannot rush things, nephew, or we could anger the High Seer.”

  “Even the High Seer will want to relocate to our beautiful new capital once we have the well contained and the hold built. Then, certainly, she will agree to our plan to reclaim what the humans have taken from everyone else.”

  The Commander sighs. “And you will take charge of building this capital, will you not?”

  I can hear the smile in Ellze’s voice. “Of course.”

  So Ellze has bigger plans now—plans that no longer align with the mission the High Seer gave us. I could send her a smoke message, tell her what I have heard. But what could she do from so far away?

  What chews at my insides is what this means for my humans. Parsifal’s grip on Magic is erratic and dangerous, certainly—like a toddler with a sword.

  But now I fear far more what will become of them should they remain in Four Halls.

  Thelia

  Sapphire said we wouldn’t be harmed. That we’d be treated for Magic, then released. So why are they letting us freeze to death?

  Every fire was extinguished after that dinner in the banquet hall, and the temperature’s crept lower and lower until our breath comes out as smoke. We wrap ourselves in blankets and talk as little as possible.

  They’ve left us to die.

  Daddy handles it the worst of all of us. During the day, he curls up under his blankets until only his forehead shows. I bring him food whenever it comes and cajole him to try something, even a bite, but he barely eats. Morgaun does nothing to help.

  At least Parsifal and I have our room where we can lock the door and huddle under the blankets to chase the cold away. Every night we struggle to get to sleep. When will it be our turn? When will The People come for us and take us to their strange, secret room and decide that it’s our turn to go? Perhaps it would be a relief to be free of this nightmare.

  But I have too selfish a grip on living. I’ve worked too hard for it. When Parsi
fal lies next to me, hand wrapped in mine, I know I must keep fighting. The only cure for wondering whether we’re still even here is to turn to each other. Once we’re satiated, we’re finally able to sleep—but it is cold and restless.

  I’m drifting off when a tiny, pink light appears under the door. I sit up, freeing myself from Parsifal’s arms. I tap his shoulder as it starts to drift upward, weightless.

  “Wake up. Look.”

  Sapphire’s wisp floats toward us, chittering. Parsifal reaches out to grab it but it ducks, loops around me, and flies toward the door.

  “It’s telling us something.” Parsifal climbs out of bed. “What is it, little guy?”

  The pink ball of light spins around the door handle again. I follow him as he pushes the door open. “What are you thinking?” I whisper, but he ignores me.

  Everyone’s asleep. The wisp stays close to the ground, dodging behind furniture to hide its light. I follow it to the suite’s main door and it bobs around the handle, urging us to go through.

  “Don’t listen,” I tell Parsifal. “We can’t get out. It’s trying to trick you.”

  Parsifal reaches for the handle anyway, and I expect the Magic seal to bounce him back like it did to me. But the door opens without complaint, and the wisp bounces out into the dark hallway, unrestrained.

  I peer out. The guard who’s usually posted here is gone and the hallway is empty. We slip out, following the bobbing pink light. A few doors down, a familiar head of sky-blue hair appears.

  “Sapphire!” I want to hug them, to kiss them again, but after everything that’s happened . . .

  The wisp lands on their outstretched finger. “Thank you,” Sapphire says to it. The glowing bauble spins happily around their hand before ducking back into the open belt pouch.

  “I’m sorry,” Sapphire and I say at the same time. They shake their head. “No, let me. Please. There is no excuse for what I did.”

  “I’m sorry if you got in trouble for me,” I say.

  “It was my idea, Theels,” Parsifal says. “I should be sorry.”

  Sapphire puts a gentle hand on each of our shoulders. It feels like a bolt of lightning. Sapphire feels it too—their eyebrows rise and the sides of their mouth twitch. “It is not important now.” They take a long, arduous breath. “I must tell you. The King has died.”

  About time. “When?”

  “This morning. The Commander do-o-oes not want humans to know. But your friend . . . the Princess.” Sapphire drops their gaze to the floor. “She should be told.”

  I feel nothing. Not for the King, not for Corene, not for us. This Kingdom has been sinking into oblivion since the three of us hid in a dark passage, waiting for the screams to subside.

  “I’ll tell her,” Parsifal says. “I speak Corene.”

  “We’re a lot less concerned about the King than we are about freezing to death,” I say, taking Sapphire’s hand in mine. I bring it to my face and inhale the cool tang of their skin. It’s heavy. “My father—he isn’t handling it well. I think he may die.”

  “I am sorry.” Sapphire’s head drops. “Commander Valya is watching me. But I am designing a plan to help you out of the castle. To be safe. Take this.” They hand me a small box. “I know that you may never forgive me for what The People have done to you and your families.” They look at Parsifal like they want to touch him, to hold his hand—but they don’t move. “I will do everything within my power to ensure your safety. It means . . . more to me than I can say.”

  They reach forward and wrap us both in a hug. At first, Parsifal’s shoulder is crushed into mine, until I put my arm around him. I feel Sapphire’s lips, soft and yet also hard, leave a kiss on my forehead.

  Sapphire pushes us away. “Take care,” they say. Then, looking at Parsifal: “Don’t let Thelia be foolish.” Sapphire gently touches the back of his neck, ruffling his hair there. Parsifal’s eyes go wide.

  With that, they’re gone down the hall.

  Quietly, we step back inside the suite. Everyone’s still asleep. In our bedroom, I open the box Sapphire gave us. Inside is a single charcoal smokestick, a small fire striker for lighting it, and a note.

  Use in emergency only.

  Exercise caution. May explode.

  Parsifal

  We don’t sleep much—not that the insomnia matters when there’s nothing to do. After a breakfast we hardly eat, Thelia and I retire to the window seat to play pa-chi-chi. Thelia gasps as I skip and take one of her buttons. “I didn’t even see you coming!”

  I grin. “Don’t underestimate me.”

  Bayled settles on the chair by the window and watches us play in silence. When we finish a game, I ask, “Do you want to play?”

  He jolts upright like he’d forgotten he was there. “I’m no good at pa-chi-chi.”

  “You don’t have to be.” Thelia places a peanut shell in Bayled’s hand. “Learn.”

  He looks at her a long moment before accepting. I let him take my spot. “I like your hair like this,” he tells her.

  “Thank you.” Thelia sets her first pair of stones. “Parsifal did it when most of my hair got ripped off.”

  His eyebrows rise. “How?”

  “Thelia tried to climb out a window,” I say, elbowing her.

  “Hey! Don’t spill my secrets.”

  Bayled grows serious. “Can you two do something for me?” he says quietly, leaning toward us.

  We both lean in too. “What?” I ask.

  “Stop keeping secrets.” He sounds sad, like this resentment has been building a long time. “I can tell there’s something else. Something important.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” Thelia crosses her arms, but I take pity on Bayled. He’s right.

  Under my breath I say, “The King’s dead.”

  Bayled sighs, like this doesn’t surprise him in the least. “It was just a matter of time.” He looks almost relieved—until he looks at Corene, where she sits at the table reading. “But this might be the thing that tips her over the edge.”

  I don’t think I agree. She’s been falling for a long time.

  “How did you two find out about his passing?” Bayled asks. I look at Thelia and we both wait for the other to speak first. “I thought you were going to be honest with me,” he says, with a note of bitterness.

  Finally I sigh and say, “We know someone.”

  “Who?”

  Thelia chews on her lip. She still doesn’t trust him completely, but how can his knowing the truth possibly hurt us?

  I put a long finger next to the side of my face—like an elf ear. Bayled’s eyes widen. “You can’t be serious. How?”

  “It’s not a big deal,” Thelia whispers urgently. “They were our guard when we were in North Hall.”

  His eyebrows rise even higher. “Your prison guard?”

  “It’s not like that.” I know how ridiculous we sound.

  Corene abruptly stands up and walks over to us. She looks hardened, ready to do something rash. “I can’t believe you’re all sitting over here conspiring, when you could be helping us.”

  I rise to my feet, and it takes more energy than I have. “Seems like you and Morgaun are perfectly happy plotting on your own. Why do you need us?”

  She eyeballs me. “I know what you can do, Percy. You should be using your powers to help, not just sitting there whispering.”

  Morgaun looks over. “What are you talking about, cousin?”

  “That’s Your Majesty to you,” she snaps. “I’m the Queen now.”

  I’m stunned into silence.

  “See?” says Corene with a bitter laugh. “You think I don’t know anything, but I know my dad’s dead. I know the elves are planning to destroy us all. And I know it’s within Parsifal’s power to get us out of here.”

  I’ve overestimated Corene. All those times I thought she was playing the good, dutiful, wholesome Princess—letting Bayled believe she’d marry him, kissing Nul se Lan on the stairs—I thought she was lining up he
r pa-chi-chi stones for the final move, where she’d wipe out all the pawns at once and take the game.

  But there’s no plan. There’s no game. She’s chased one hope for happiness after the next, throwing her pieces in whichever barrel looks least likely to roll off the cliff.

  Morgaun peers at me. “What can you do, Bellisare?”

  Bayled’s standing, too, looking angry—that’s new. “What’s she talking about, Parsifal?”

  “He can use Magic,” Corene says. Her blue eyes are filled with lightning. “We escaped through a portal he made.”

  Morgaun’s face stitches itself into something terrible. “I get it.” He looks at me like he’s never seen me before, and my arms erupt in prickles. “You’re working with them, aren’t you? You licked some long ear cock, got a free room in North Hall, and gave in to the sinful call of Magic.”

  Duke Finegarden stands up, hurling his blankets to the floor. “You will stop speaking this way at once.” His fatigue seems forgotten as he storms to the table and seizes Morgaun by the ear. Morgaun howls, trying to pull his head away, but the Duke’s arthritic grip is iron. “Shut up and sit down, son.”

  Morgaun shoves Duke Finegarden away and stumbles back, laughing. “So angry, Father! Why are you angry at me? You should be angry at Thelia.” He grins widely at us. “Given that she’s fucking her own cousin while all of you are sleeping.”

  The Duke’s skeletal face contorts with horror.

  Thelia lunges at Morgaun, roaring. “You worthless craggon!” Before I can grab her, she lands a punch to his face. He falls to the floor as she bludgeons him. “As if it’s any business of yours. You’ve tormented me, cut me open, and you have the gall to—?” I put my entire body weight behind restraining her arm while blood drips from Morgaun’s nose. He laughs as Bayled helps me drag her off. Even after starving, Thelia’s far stronger than we are. “Let me go!”

  “It’s not worth it,” I say as we push her to the window seat.