Beneath the Citadel

by Destiny Soria

  I’ve been waiting for you a long time.

  Solan’s words tugged at her mind, so gently that she couldn’t tell if they were a memory or if he was somehow speaking to her. Cassa straightened up. Vesper was watching her with silent worry.

  “There’s another way out of the citadel,” Cassa said. “We have to go below.”

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  ALYS

  Alys had never expected to be alone in the darkness beneath the citadel. She knew that down the stone corridor behind her, Solan’s enclave was glowing golden. Solan was there too, a man disfigured by time and loneliness, surrounded by once-beautiful furniture now ruined by age and elements. The teapot was probably still warm. She knew that she could go back now if she wanted. Nothing was stopping her. Nothing, except that Evander and Newt were probably already long gone. Nothing, except that if she didn’t keep going, Cassa would never make it out of the citadel alive.

  When Newt had returned with the news of Cassa’s capture, they’d stayed with the plan and returned to Solan. If he wanted their help, he was just going to have to help them first. Solan hadn’t seemed surprised. In their absence he’d been divining—Alys had seen the ancient bone-shard runes scattered on his coffee table. Diviners had stopped using bones decades ago. It was considered uncouth.

  He’d also been scanning memories in the citadel, which Alys hadn’t known was possible from such a distance. Sentients had to see people’s faces in order to read them. According to Solan, he wasn’t reading memories so much as “borrowing” them. Fresh memories were easy to siphon off and return before they were missed. He said that to the people above, it would just feel like a moment of confusion, like walking into a room and forgetting why you’d come.

  Throughout the entire exchange, Alys’s stomach had turned at the thought of the unsuspecting souls overhead whose memories were being plundered. That didn’t stop her from asking him if he knew anything about her parents. He didn’t, and though he promised to keep searching, Alys’s heart had already plummeted. If Solan couldn’t find them, did that mean they were already dead?

  She refused to let her mind wander down that road. At the moment, they had to focus on saving Cassa. Thanks to Solan’s borrowed memories, they knew what was happening to her above. And that she was headed below.

  Alys stood at the head of the strange maze of pathways. The massive chamber was no longer lit by the fires atop the pillars. In the shadows beyond the reach of her ghost globe, the statues of the elder seers were dreaming in their stony slumber. Below her, the channels cut by the paths were so dark that she could almost imagine they ran with ink instead of water. She gripped the rope suspending the globe with aching fingers and took her first uncertain steps.

  “Alys, wait.”

  Her stomach lurched at the voice, and despite her grip, she almost dropped the ghost globe into the water. She turned. The blue light illuminated Evander’s features.

  “I thought you were already gone,” she said, trying to steady her breathing. The fact that her own brother could frighten her so easily did not bode well for the rest of her solo journey through the caverns.

  “Newt’s waiting for me. I just—I wanted to make sure you were going to be okay.”

  Alys wasn’t sure whether to be touched or insulted. Mostly she just wanted to cry, but that would hardly help the situation.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “I don’t have nearly as far to go as you do.”

  “You don’t have to go alone,” Evander said. “I can go with you, or Newt can. It doesn’t take two of us to fetch the Blacksmith.”

  Evander had always had a habit of making things sound less difficult than they really were. As if crossing the valley and the woods to the Blacksmith’s house and convincing her that instead of them bringing Solan to her, she should come with them to the dismal cave beneath the citadel was going to be a simple task. That didn’t even take into account the citadel guards who were probably on the lookout for them by now, if a sentient had read Cassa’s memories.

  Solan couldn’t tell them much about the current state of the world above, but he had seen one thing very clearly: The guards were going to arrest the Blacksmith at dawn. Alys didn’t see how that was possible, since the Blacksmith hadn’t done anything to help them yet. Newt was less certain. If Gaz Ritter had seen any of Cassa’s memories, then they had to assume he’d seen all of them. They had to assume he knew the entirety of their plan and that he would sell the information to the council as fast as he could. Their only chance was to move faster.

  “We don’t know what’s waiting up there,” Alys said. “You have your silver, and Newt knows those woods. You stand a better chance together. All I have to do is take a leisurely stroll through the crypts to find Cassa.”

  She was pleased at how easy she made her task sound. Evander probably couldn’t have done better. He glanced over his shoulder, taking a deep breath. His fingers were drumming erratically against his thighs. When they were growing up, people always assumed that Evander was the anxious one. That his constant movement was a sign of constant nerves. No one ever guessed that he was the unflappable one and that beneath Alys’s stillness a maelstrom spun.

  “Alys, do you really want to do this?” Evander asked.

  Alys fiddled with the rope in her hand, avoiding his eyes.

  “Truth or lie?” she asked.

  “Truth.”

  She made herself look at him, to feel the earnestness of his gaze. Maybe he was the unflappable one, but she was still his older sister. He shouldn’t have to protect her, not when there was so much hanging in the balance. So she did something she’d never done before. She lied anyway.

  “Yes,” she said. “It’s the best way.”

  Evander watched her for a few more seconds, and she wondered if maybe she hadn’t fooled him. But then he nodded.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll see you in a few hours. Try to keep Cassa in one piece.”

  “No promises.”

  She wanted to hug him, but she was afraid he would hear the pounding of her heart. She gave a wave and turned, forcing her feet along the path. The longer she walked, the easier it felt. She knew that as long as she didn’t look back, she could make it to the other side.

  The caverns beyond the chamber of seers seemed different than the first time she’d seen them. Being alone made everything feel emptier and vaster. The echoes of her footsteps fluttered around her, reminding her that the farther she walked, the farther she was from everyone who knew she was here. Cassa had told her once that being alone underground was unlike being alone anywhere else. Down here the isolation was slowly consuming.

  Alys felt a pang of pity for Solan. No one should have to live their life like this, cut off from the world with only the long-dead for company.

  It didn’t take her as long as she’d expected to reach the shore of the lake. The eerie reflection of the ghost light against the clear, still water sent a chill down her spine. The rowboat was where they had left it, with the oars perched neatly against its sides. She set the oars and the ghost globe inside and pushed it toward the water. It was heavier than she expected and scraped grudgingly against the stone. She’d almost gotten the front half past the waterline when she had to pause to catch her breath.

  Somewhere beyond the light was a splash. It echoed so tremendously that she had no way to gauge how big the fish might have been. Assuming it was a fish. Her heart was racing painfully, though she couldn’t tell if it was from fear or exertion. Probably both. She stared across the lake, thinking how in different circumstances she would have been fascinated by the sheer improbability of it. The lake and these caverns were a lost world ruled by Solan and forgotten by everyone else. In different circumstances she would have loved the uncharted nature of it.

  But in current circumstances, the lake was a gaping expanse that she had to cross alone, with only some wood and tar to protect her from whatever creatures lurked in its depths. She didn’t know what could survive down here, s
o far from sunlight. She didn’t want to know. Surely the splash had just been a fish.

  Her legs felt heavy all of a sudden, and she sat down on the cool ground even as she told herself she couldn’t sit, she couldn’t waste time, she had to find Cassa. Solan had told them she was descending into the crypts, but he couldn’t see any more than that. For all they knew she was being pursued by the guards—or being dragged down here for her execution. The only thing they knew for certain was that if someone didn’t take the boat across the lake, she was trapped on the other side.

  Alys knew she had to stand up, she had to push the boat into the water, and she had to row across the lake. She also knew that she couldn’t stand up, she couldn’t push the boat into the water, and she couldn’t row across the lake. She was alone down here except for whatever lived in the depths. She was alone down here, beneath the crushing weight of the earth above.

  Her breaths were becoming gasps. She pushed her palms against the ground, trying to relieve the sudden tingling in her arms, as if the panic was electricity running through her veins. She was pathetic. A minute ago she had been fine, she had felt fine, everything was fine, and now she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. She felt weightless. Outside herself. A brightness encroached on her vision. She couldn’t keep hold of her own whirling thoughts. Pathetic. How could she help Cassa when she couldn’t even help herself?

  Her chest hurt so badly, she knew she was dying. The maelstrom in her mind felt so familiar, but this time, like every time, she knew she wasn’t going to survive it. Everything was faded. Everything was gone. All she had to do was stand up.

  But she couldn’t do it.

  TWENTY-NINE

  CASSA

  Cassa and Vesper crept through the lowest floor of the Central Keep, listening for the telltale footfalls and creaking weaponry of citadel guards. Everything was quiet for now. Cassa allowed herself to hope that it could stay that way. There was no reason anyone would think to follow them here. Why would an escaped prisoner run straight to the dungeons?

  “Cassa, I wish you would just trust me,” Vesper said, keeping her voice low. “I know you hate my uncle, but you can’t help Solan.”

  Of course she’d seen everything in Cassa’s memories. Their entire plan. Cassa couldn’t stand the thought of so much being laid bare, but it was too late now. Her only solace was that if all went well, Solan would be free before the chancellor could stop them. She tightened her grip on the lantern they had stolen along the way. She wasn’t sure how much oil was left in it. Hopefully enough.

  “This may surprise you, but there are precious few people I trust,” Cassa said. Three to be exact. Three people in the world. She told herself the tightness in her chest was exhaustion, but she had a feeling it was closer to despair. “And you’re not one of them. Not anymore.”

  She wouldn’t let herself think about what it meant that Vesper was here helping her when by all rights she should be running to Chancellor Dane with everything she knew. Vesper was quiet for almost a minute. When she spoke again, her tone was low and rippling with hurt.

  “Would you have even listened to me if I’d told you the truth that night on the bridge?”

  Cassa paused to peer around a corner. The next corridor was empty, its gaslights on a low burn. Faded portraits of long-dead councilors stared down in silent disapproval. They were nearing the stairwell to the dungeons. She wanted to keep walking, to ignore the conviction in Vesper’s question, but she couldn’t. She turned around.

  “I don’t know,” Cassa said, “but you should have told me anyway.”

  Something flickered in Vesper’s gaze.

  “If I had told you, and you had gone through with your plan anyway, the sentients would have seen everything,” she said. “All of us would have been executed—my uncle too.”

  Cassa wondered if Solan would have still helped them from afar had the chancellor been sent to his execution alongside them. Would it have been worth it to die, knowing that Dane died with her?

  “You’ve seen everything, all my memories from our escape until today on the Merchants’ Bridge.” Cassa’s throat burned with the threat of tears, but she refused to yield. “And you know how much I’ve lost. Can you honestly tell me you wouldn’t do the same thing if you were in my place and had the same chance?”

  Vesper opened her mouth as if to reply, then pursed her lips together. Her gaze dropped to her feet. She shook her head.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “But I do know that there’s nothing you can do that will bring your parents back.”

  “I know that.” Cassa’s voice felt faint, as if she were miles away from her own body. She could never have her parents back. They were nothing but legends now, a story belonging to everyone and no one. She didn’t understand the followers of the Slain God and their obsession with death rites to cleanse their minds before passing into oblivion. All she had left of her parents were memories and the fire they had given her. She couldn’t imagine ever giving that up, even at death’s door. Especially then.

  “Then what is it you want?” Vesper asked.

  Cassa wanted to keep walking. She wanted to avoid this conversation. She wanted there to be more than three people alive whom she could trust.

  “I just want to know that it mattered,” she said.

  “That what mattered?”

  “All of it . . . any of it.” There was a lump in her throat that felt suspiciously like a sob, and she fought against it. “All those people—my parents—everyone I cared about is gone, Vesper. And I’m still here. That has to mean something. There has to be something I’m meant to do.”

  Vesper kept her gaze.

  “I think you’re the only one who can decide what that is.”

  Cassa took a shaky breath. Her head ached from keeping the tears at bay.

  “Funny, I thought that was the seers’ job.”

  Vesper glanced away, and her face flickered with an expression that Cassa couldn’t understand.

  “There aren’t any seers left,” Vesper said.

  Silence. For a few heartbeats, Cassa was acutely aware of the stillness all around them, of centuries’ worth of the dead just beneath their feet. Then she found her voice.

  “What?”

  “The last one died two years ago. The council has been scouring the city for years, but there aren’t any more.” Vesper started walking again, her head ducked under the stares of the portraits. Cassa followed her, trying to wrap her head around what Vesper was saying. What that meant for Eldra. What that meant for her.

  “But the prophecies haven’t stopped.”

  “Some of them are old, I think,” said Vesper. “Some are probably fake. But most come from Solan.”

  “That’s why the council is so determined to keep him alive.”

  “Fake and recycled prophecies can only fool people for so long. When they’ve lost the prophecies, they’ve lost their power over the city.”

  Around the next corner was the massive oak door that opened to the steep steps of the dungeon. Vesper’s fingers hesitated on the handle. She turned and faced Cassa again. This time her grim expression was easy to decipher.

  “Please, just do the right thing.” She pulled something from her pocket and opened her hand to Cassa. The vial of poison. She must have retrieved it from wherever the guards had taken it when Cassa was arrested.

  Cassa’s pulse thrummed. All the rebels were dead, but she was still here. There had to be a reason why. She reached out to take it, but Vesper put her other hand on top of hers. Her fingers were icy.

  Something foreign and cold twisted through Cassa’s mind, and she reeled. She yanked her hand away, still gripping the vial. A wave of nausea washed over her. She shuddered.

  “What did you do?” she whispered, clutching her head.

  “I’m sorry,” Vesper said, her voice pleading. “I don’t know how else to make you understand what’s at stake. When my uncle gave me his memories, he—he gave me a secret he’s kept for a ver
y long time.” She yanked open the door. “Let me go first. I can distract the guards on duty long enough for you to slip past.”

  “Vesper—”

  “Just do the right thing, Cassa.”

  She disappeared down the steps. Cassa steadied herself against the doorframe, trying to listen for sounds below and behind her while wrestling with the unfamiliar memories that had taken root in her mind. A journey below the citadel that she hadn’t taken. A night of agony that wasn’t hers. She tried to ignore them, to push them away, but the knowledge was hers now, hopelessly entangled with her own life. The chancellor wasn’t the only one who had been lying to them.

  Cassa told herself that it didn’t change anything. Solan had to be freed, and the council had to be defeated. Nothing else mattered. She had almost convinced herself when she heard Vesper’s voice at the base of the stairs, and she crept down slowly.

  Vesper was talking to the guard in the alcove about a discrepancy in last year’s official records that her uncle had discovered. Cassa dared to peek around the corner just in time to see Vesper pat his hand reassuringly. The man started to say something and then blinked, his eyes wide and dazed. Cassa didn’t wait to wonder exactly what Vesper was doing to him. She darted past into the dungeon corridors, gripping her lantern in one hand and the little glass vial in the other.

  She heard footsteps and ducked into a side corridor just in time to avoid the patrol guard as he passed. The jeering of the prisoners was loud enough to drown out her unsteady breaths. Once he was out of earshot, she kept running all the way to the far end of the dungeon, where the door leading into the crypts was waiting.

  The gently sloping tunnel felt shorter than it had the first time she’d raced through it. It felt like only a couple of minutes before she reached the head of the staircase that spiraled down, down, down. She forced herself forward before she could even catch her breath, before she could change her mind.