Beneath the Citadel

by Destiny Soria

  Newt frowned and started to disagree, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized Evander was right. He felt he knew Evander and Alys’s reasons for joining Cassa in her unrelenting mission because it seemed as obvious as the scars on their parents’ faces, but Evander had never actually told him. And he’d never told Evander his reasons either. It was one conversation that had never been broached. He wondered if Evander had already guessed at his reasons too. If anyone could, it would be him.

  Evander moved a couple of steps closer. They were face-to-face now. Newt’s breath hitched in his lungs. He hoped it wasn’t noticeable. Evander looked distracted. This close, Newt could make out the slight wrinkle in his brow, his pursed lips. His eyes were dark and fathomless. With so little space between them, Newt couldn’t bear to look away. He loved every curve and line of Evander’s face, the soft brush of his hair across his forehead, the lean strength of his frame. His constant, concentrated energy. His easygoing confidence, so carefully cultivated to appear effortless.

  “May I ask you something?” Evander’s voice sounded strange. Raw.

  “Sure,” Newt said. He didn’t know what his own voice sounded like. His heartbeat was drowning out the world.

  The two coins hovering lazy circles behind Evander dropped to the ground. Then suddenly he was so close that Newt could feel the warmth of his body. His lips were a hairbreadth away, an unspoken question that Newt never thought he’d get the chance to answer. He didn’t allow himself any hesitation. He slid his hand behind Evander’s head and pulled him in. His lips were soft and cool, but he kissed like there was fire inside him. Newt gripped his hair tighter, wrapping his other hand behind Evander’s neck, but Evander didn’t need the encouragement. It wasn’t Newt’s first kiss, but it was the first one that mattered. His thoughts were deliciously hazy. He was kissing Evander Sera.

  Evander Sera was kissing him.

  Evander was pressed so close now that Newt could feel every crack of the bricks at his back. One of Evander’s hands was on the wall beside his head, the other resting featherlight on his hip. Their breaths mingled with their heartbeats. It felt like a dream he’d forgotten, like a memory that wasn’t his. It felt like the first time he’d ever been truly happy.

  When their lips parted, Newt couldn’t tell if it had been seconds or minutes or hours. Evander’s forehead rested against his, and at first they just breathed. The wind had stilled for a moment, leaving them with the charged silence before the storm.

  “What did you want to ask me?” Newt murmured. His chest was a riot of emotions, not all of them identifiable. Every inch of skin was alive with the thrill of Evander’s touch.

  Evander grinned.

  “Can’t remember.”

  And he kissed him again.

  THIRTY-TWO

  ALYS

  Alys’s arms and back ached from rowing, but she didn’t mind. The ache kept her anchored. It reminded her that she was alive, that she’d gotten off the ground, pushed the boat into the lake, and started rowing. She might not be impossibly brave like her brother and friends, but she had yet to give up. That had to count for something.

  After about ten minutes of rowing, she stopped to rest her arms. The shore behind her had faded out of sight, and the shore ahead was not yet visible. For the moment, she was drifting in a bubble of light. She felt strangely peaceful.

  Then something rocked the boat, and she screamed. She fumbled for the oars, not sure if she should try to hit whatever it was or just keep rowing. Something yanked on the left oar, and she nearly lost her grip. She shook it as hard as she could. Hit something solid. And then: “Dammit, Alys!”

  All at once she was flooded with relief, confusion, and utter disbelief.

  “Cassa, what the hell are you doing?” she demanded, leaning over the edge of the boat.

  “Thought I’d go for a swim.” Cassa’s voice was too weak to carry any bite. She was treading water, but barely. There was no way she was going to pull herself into the boat.

  “Hold on,” Alys said.

  She secured the oars beneath the seats, then dropped onto her knees on the floor, hoping that would keep it steadier. Cassa was gripping the side now, and it tipped in her direction. Alys grabbed her wrists.

  “We have to do it quickly,” she said. “Otherwise the boat will flip.”

  Cassa nodded. Her teeth were chattering, and she was trembling all over. Alys moved her hold down to Cassa’s forearms.

  “One, two, three.”

  She pulled as hard as she could, trying to keep herself counterbalanced, but Cassa was deadweight. Alys leaned a fraction too far forward and realized it a second too late. The boat tipped over, and Alys plunged into the water headfirst. For a few moments, she was completely disoriented. She had no idea which way was up, and her legs were kicking against Cassa’s. She reached out, felt the wood of the boat against her fingertips, and broke the surface. She gulped in a breath. The light of the ghost globe was so bright, it hurt. She realized she was beneath the overturned boat, with the globe floating in front of her. Cassa was already there, clutching the seat overhead with one hand.

  “I hate you,” Alys gasped out as soon as she had enough breath.

  “I know,” Cassa said. “We have to flip it over, right now.”

  “Can I at least catch my breath first?”

  “Alys, we have to get back into this boat right now.” Despite her visible trembling, Cassa’s voice was strangely calm. “There’s something in the water with us. Something big.”

  Panic lurched in Alys’s throat. She looked down, expecting there to be a dark shape lurking there. The blue light illuminated the clear water fairly deep, but she saw nothing except her own kicking feet. She forced herself to breathe.

  “Alys, stay with me.” Cassa’s tone was still unnaturally calm.

  Alys’s panic was replaced momentarily with irritation.

  “Oh, for seers’ sake, stop patronizing me, and let’s flip the damn boat.”

  Cassa blinked at her. Obviously that had not been the reaction she was expecting, which bolstered Alys even more. After all, she was the one doing the saving here. Not the other way around.

  “Are you strong enough to push it with me?” Alys asked. “There’s going to be a lot of suction.”

  She didn’t actually know very much about boats, but that was simple physics. Cassa hesitated, then nodded. The hesitation was the answer Alys needed.

  “Never mind,” she said. “Hold on while I look at something.”

  She grabbed the ghost globe’s rope and ducked under the edge of the boat without waiting for a reply. Panic was still sharp in her chest, but she forced herself to focus on the problem at hand. The sloped sides of the rowboat came to a narrow peak at the bottom, and it sat fairly low in the water. Her legs were already tired from kicking. If she was going to try her idea, she had to do it fast.

  She slipped back under the boat.

  “Can you tread water on your own for a couple of minutes?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Cassa said. “What are you thinking?”

  “Come on.”

  Alys swam out again. After a few seconds Cassa surfaced beside her. Alys passed her the ghost globe and eyed the wooden hull for a few seconds. Then she scissor-kicked as hard as she could and launched out of the water, grabbing for the peak. Her hands found a modicum of purchase, and she scrambled for more, dragging herself up until she was flopped over the middle of the boat.

  Painstakingly, she crawled forward until she was hanging over the opposite side. The boat sank farther into the water under her weight. She gripped the edge with both hands, held her breath, and threw herself backward with as much force as she could muster. The boat flipped with her. She released the edge and let herself sink into the water before she kicked back to the surface. Cassa had already put the ghost globe in the boat and was hanging on to the side. Alys swam around to the opposite side. She counted off again, and she and Cassa pulled themselves up at the same time. Th
eir weights weren’t equal, but Cassa was better at counterbalancing than Alys had been. Alys thought she felt something brush against her ankle right before she pulled it free of the water, but she told herself it was just her imagination. They both collapsed into the bottom of the wobbling boat without capsizing it again. It had a fair amount of water in it, but it was still afloat, and the paddles were still secured under the seats.

  Alys handed one to Cassa, though neither of them started rowing. She wouldn’t let herself look into the water. She was too afraid of what she might see.

  “Is it even worth asking what could have possibly compelled you to try to swim across the mysterious underground lake?” she asked after she’d caught her breath.

  “Well, if I’d known you were coming for me, I would’ve taken a nap instead.” Cassa’s breathing was still jagged and labored.

  Alys resisted the urge to whack her with the paddle.

  “Of course one of us was coming for you. What, did you think we were just going to sit on our hands until you were executed? For seers’ sake, Cassa, a little bit of faith would be nice. I think we’ve earned that much.”

  Cassa was still trembling. She rested her paddle across her lap and rubbed her shoulders vigorously. Alys eyed her, expecting a sarcastic retort, but Cassa’s features were twisted in a soft frown.

  “You’re right,” she said finally. She met Alys’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  Alys was caught off guard by her sudden sincerity. In the moment, it was actually rather discomfiting.

  “It’s fine,” she said. “Let’s just get back to shore.”

  She adjusted her grip on the oar, but Cassa didn’t move.

  “Alys, you were amazing just now,” she said quietly.

  “I’m not sure flipping a boat qualifies me for hero status, but thanks.”

  “I’m serious. You’re the only reason we made it out of the dungeons in the first place. You’re the only reason I’m alive now. You always know the right thing to do.”

  “Then why are you always arguing with me?” Alys couldn’t bring herself to match Cassa’s earnestness.

  Cassa didn’t rise to the bait. Her tone remained soft and genuine.

  “Because I’m afraid that if I’m wrong about one thing, I’m wrong about everything.”

  Alys stared down at her hands, which had gone numb with cold. She wasn’t sure how to deal with what Cassa was saying. Cassandra Valera was an unstoppable force. She never worried, never flinched, never backed down. Alys had never heard Cassa express doubt, and she’d never heard her express admiration for anyone, least of all her.

  For a few moments, the only sound was Cassa’s shivering breath. Outside their sphere of blue light, the darkness was silent.

  “That’s the most irrational thing I’ve ever heard,” Alys said at last.

  Cassa’s frown deepened, but then she coughed out a laugh.

  “I thought you would have figured out by now that all I bring to the table is an endless supply of irrationality and sarcasm.”

  “Trust me, I have.” Alys straightened up in her seat and dipped her oar into the water. “Now will you please help me row so that we can get away from this godforsaken lake?”

  She wasn’t sure if Cassa was strong enough to row, but she knew that Cassa would never agree to rest while she rowed alone. Cassa gripped her paddle and twisted around in her seat.

  “I never thanked you for saving me,” Cassa said as together they propelled the boat through the quiet water.

  “Still haven’t.”

  “Thank you, Alys.”

  “You’re welcome, Cassa. I hope at the very least this situation has prompted you to consider your own mortality.”

  “Why should it? I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

  Alys rolled her eyes. She could practically hear Cassa’s grin, which meant that things were back to normal. For some reason, that was the biggest relief of all.

  THIRTY-THREE

  EVANDER

  Evander was starting to feel like his entire life had been whittled down to darkness and stone. He was hard pressed to find a patch of skin that wasn’t scraped or scratched by their journey through the caves or the woods. His legs ached so steadily that he couldn’t remember what it felt like to not be in pain. It had gotten to the point where he spent most of his spare energy trying to decide whether it would be better to die below or above. The hope that they might somehow survive this ordeal had long since slipped away.

  Maybe that’s why he had kissed Newt.

  His motivation had been perplexing him ever since they’d left the Blacksmith’s cottage. None of them had spoken much on the way back to the valley. Mira was restless and distracted. Newt had been too busy trying to keep them from being ambushed by the citadel guard. Evander had been too busy thinking about Newt.

  The truth was, he had kissed Newt because he had wanted to. There hadn’t been any thread of conscious decision-making. There was just Newt, who looked so alive in the valley and the forest, who traded secret for secret like they were precious gold, who in spite of appearances was probably the bravest of them all. There was just the sight of him—leaning against the brick in the shadow of the storm, his hair tangled and windblown, his blue eyes catching every ray of moonlight. He’d been somehow entirely inscrutable and entirely open at the same time. And suddenly Evander had never wanted anything more.

  Now he couldn’t figure out why he’d waited so long. Or what he was supposed to do next.

  When they finally made it back to Solan’s chamber, Alys and Cassa were waiting for them. Both of them were shivering and damp. Both of them declined to explain why. Evander was too relieved to find both of them alive and whole to care about the specifics of how they’d stayed that way. Solan’s enclave was not any less unsettling than the first or second time he’d been here. It had only been a few hours since he’d last seen it, but it still felt like a different world. The golden glow of the lights here gave the cold cavern a warm, homey feel that was at the same time utterly wrong. Not far from where they stood, thousands of dead bodies were decaying silently in their tombs. Above their heads, the citadel slept, hopefully oblivious to the machinations below.

  Mira stood a little apart from them, eyeing the chamber with a wary sort of awe.

  “You are the Blacksmith?” Solan asked her.

  She nodded tersely, not quite meeting his eyes. Evander couldn’t blame her. He still hadn’t gotten used to Solan’s strange, shifting visage.

  “I thank you for coming all this way.” Solan extended a hand, the very picture of gentility.

  Mira took a small step back and ducked her head.

  “If it’s all the same to everyone here, I’d rather just get this over with,” she said quietly.

  Evander frowned at her sudden reticence and exchanged a glance with Newt, whose brow was also wrinkled with confusion. Cassa hopped to her feet and clapped her hands together.

  “I like you already,” she told Mira. “Just getting it over with is my preferred approach to almost everything.”

  Mira gave another short nod and glanced around the chamber again, this time with an appraising eye.

  “This space is too small,” she said. “I don’t like being crowded while I work.”

  “The cavern with the statues is much bigger,” Alys said. She took up the ghost globe and led the way into the next chamber.

  If Mira was impressed by the massive stone seers or the elaborate grid of walkways, she didn’t show it. She just looked around for a few moments, then declared it suitable. None of the paths were wide enough for their purposes, but the platform at the feet of the two seers nearest the tunnel gave Mira enough room to work. Since mirasma was already liquid, Mira hadn’t brought the crucible or any other equipment with her. Newt handed her the bottle of mirasma, and she knelt down and pulled from her belt the only tool she needed. A knife.

  Evander hadn’t gotten a good look at the Blacksmith’s tools during his own procedure, but he remembere
d the knife well enough. It was hard to believe that such a life-changing ordeal could be accomplished with one single item.

  Something brushed his arm, and he looked to see Solan standing beside him, watching the process with somber intensity.

  “It’s not so bad,” Evander told him. He wasn’t sure why he’d said it, except that the agony he’d endured during his own bloodbond wasn’t something he would wish on his worst enemy.

  Solan smiled barely without looking at him.

  “You forget that I’ve already seen my own pain,” he said. “But thank you for trying to comfort me.”

  “Have you seen whether you’ll survive?”

  It occurred to Evander that Solan’s supposed immortality might also protect him from the rigors of bloodbonding. Nearby, Alys shot him a habitual glare for his rudeness. He ignored her. Solan stared steadily at Mira as she unsheathed the knife.

  “I’ve seen the fall of the council,” he said. “This is not how I die.”

  Evander chewed on the inside of his lip and tried to believe him.

  “You’ll need to lie on your back,” Mira said to Solan. She still hadn’t managed to meet his eyes. “The rest of you will have to hold him down.”

  Evander shivered at the memory of the leather straps on the table in the Blacksmith’s workshop. The sole evidence of pain amid the dazzling display of glass and metal creations. Alys and Newt both looked a little sickened by the directive, but Cassa stepped forward.

  “We live to serve,” she told Mira.

  She seemed her usual glib self, but Evander couldn’t help but think that she was forcing it somewhat. He wondered exactly what had happened between her capture and her arrival here. He had a feeling she wouldn’t tell the full truth even if he asked. Cassa had never been one for heartfelt sharing.

  Solan took his place on the ground while Cassa handed Mira the mirasma. Solan’s breathing was rapid, but otherwise he showed no signs of distress. Evander had to admire him for that, especially if he’d foretold even half the agony that was in store for him.