Storm Princess 2: The Princess Must Strike

by Everly Frost

  “So I guess we’re looking for Prime’s heart here?”

  He exhales, gesturing at the end of the tunnel. The rust-colored rock wall rises up before me. “That’s the idea.” He gestures at the end of the tunnel ahead of us. “Here, I’ll show you how to use your pickaxe.”

  I spend the rest of the morning learning my new trade, how to chip away at the stone, gather the debris, and how to tell if the rock wall is becoming unstable. Once he’s satisfied that I’m not going to cut off my own fingers, Roar leaves me with strict instructions to go easy today.

  He and the other males settle into a rhythm, pickaxes slamming into the rock one after the other, over and over. Their strength and resilience is breathtaking. They keep going even when sweat pours down their bodies and their chests heave. I marvel at the way they use their wing daggers to break the rock where their hands can’t reach. At one stage, Iago flies up to the ceiling and hangs from the beams while he uses a combination of his chisel and wing daggers to even out the ceiling above us.

  We stop twice to check the groups of gargoyles who travel past us to the fourth and fifth tunnels. Jasper isn’t among them. Relief floods me, but it’s quickly replaced with pity for the gargoyles headed down there. The first group has tied wet scarves across their mouths and noses to guard against the toxins in the air of the fourth tunnel. The second group carries buckets of water and have already doused their clothing in water, prepared for the fires in the fifth tunnel.

  “They’ll aim to survive,” Welsian says at my shoulder. He’s quiet for such a big gargoyle; I didn’t hear him approach. “Digging will come second to staying alive.”

  “I’m glad that’s not us. But I’m angry they’re being made to go down there.”

  “Hold on to your anger, Princess. Use it for the next round of fights. Those teams will fight much harder next week to avoid this fate again. We don’t want to be the ones mining those tunnels.”

  By the end of the day, I’m tired and sore all over. Only some of the pain is a consequence of the fight against Arlo. The rest of it is from repetitive digging and bending. I crave nothing more than an ice bath, but I’ll be lucky to get a shower. As the only female, I don’t think they’re going to clear the bathing room for me to use it in privacy.

  As I enter the food hall, all talking stops. Every gargoyle turns to face me. I pull up sharp, my pain forgotten. Llion and Roar halt behind me with Welsian and Iago a few steps behind them.

  The team in the back far right corner must have been the ones that ended up in the fifth tunnel. Their skin is dusty with ash, bearing smears across their cheeks and bare chests. The team at the table to my closest right have clean faces around their mouths and noses, but dust everywhere else—they were the ones in the fourth tunnel wearing face masks. Jasper and Badenoch are at my closest left. They’re hunched, exhausted. At a guess, I’d say they spent the day clearing fallen rocks from the second tunnel. Only Erit’s team looks like us: sweaty, dirty, but not in misery.

  I can’t read the gargoyles’ intentions. Are they angry? Vengeful? Plain old tired? Nobody speaks. As I gaze over them, my fear of what their silence means turns to anger, but not at them. We shouldn’t be divided like this. We’re all here because Howl has imprisoned us and the ones we love. We all want freedom.

  Cassian and his guards watch over the group in their usual spots around the edges, but as the silence extends, Cassian steps forward, reaching for his bone lash. He allows it to unravel and the black tip hits the floor with a snap. To my surprise, he steps up beside me as if he’s protecting me.

  “Don’t read anything in to this, Princess,” he hisses. “Howl wants to put you through hell, but he doesn’t want you dead. I’m looking after myself, not you.”

  I’m not completely sure the silence means the miners are going to attack me, but that seems to be the way Cassian interprets it.

  He growls at them. “You can get your revenge in the fights, scum. Now get back to your meals.”

  The team in the back corner are the first to obey, lowering their heads to their food, resuming quiet conversation. I’m relieved when the other teams follow. The only one still looking at me is Jasper and I can’t read his expression, oddly shuttered.

  The only remaining free table is the one in the center of the room. That means no matter where I sit, my back will be exposed to someone. Not exactly a safe position. Llion takes my arm and guides me to a seat, sitting beside me, his wing partially extended across my back. Welsian and Roar bring us plates of mush, Roar takes the seat on my other side, and I dive into the food, knowing that whatever happens next, I have to eat while I can.

  Between the fourth and fifth mouthful, Llion nudges me. I look up to see Roar shift from directly beside me so that someone else can slide into his seat.

  My heartbeat returns to normal when I recognize Jasper. “Jasper, are you okay?”

  His expression softens. “I’m fine. We got the second tunnel. It’s hard work, but not as dangerous as other tunnels. Here, let me look at you.”

  I tilt my head so he can examine the cut above my eye. The glue that Roar applied has kept it closed. It hasn’t bled all day.

  “It looks as good as it can.” He glances across the room, but the guards aren’t paying attention to us anymore. “You made an impact today.”

  “I got that impression when I walked in.” I shovel in another mouthful of food. As my dusty hand rises to my mouth, I wonder what I look like right now. Covered in dirt. Filthy. Sweaty. Tired. I probably should have made a trip to the small bathroom at the back of the food hall to wash my hands before I started eating, but there’s no way I’m going anywhere alone this evening. Besides, the dirt hides the bruises so maybe it’s better that I don’t wash it off. That way the gargoyles won’t be able to see everywhere that I’m hurt. “How many of them want to kill me?”

  “None of them.”

  The spoon stops at my mouth.

  Jasper reaches for it, pressing my hand back to the table, forcing my full attention. “You could have broken Arlo’s arm this morning, but you chose not to. You told them that you aren’t their enemy and they heard you. They heard Llion when he said you got closer to killing Howl than anyone ever has. Even the guards were talking about the fight in Crimson Court. I heard them myself. They said you could kill Howl.”

  I’m suddenly not hungry anymore. “Jasper… what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying you started something. You lit a spark.”

  I stare at him. If he’s talking about rebellion, then I want it to flare up and rage like wildfire. But sparks can be dangerous. Hope is dangerous. Uncontrolled fire can spread in directions you don’t want it to and it always results in death.

  “That wasn’t my intention, Jasper. I just wanted the others to stop targeting me.” I shake my head vehemently. “I’ve lost my power. I won’t get it back until I free Baelen. Even then I don’t know what will happen. I can’t help the gargoyles. I can’t even help myself.”

  I lean toward him. I’m the one grasping his hand this time, begging him to hear me. “I can’t have their deaths on my conscience.”

  “Don’t be afraid,” he whispers back to me, dropping his forehead to mine. I close my eyes and try to absorb the calm he always carries with him. I want to go back to the moment when we were riding the Phoenix together, the Storm sailing along beside us, when I had determination and hope, before I met Howl and discovered the destructive power of gargoyle heartstones or the cruelty of his actions.

  Jasper whispers, “The gargoyles are smart. Careful. And…” He glances at the guards who are now looking our way. Jasper’s comforting gesture hasn’t gone unnoticed by anyone—none the least Cassian who wears a shuttered expression—but I don’t care if it looks like weakness.

  Jasper draws back, cupping his hand briefly against my cheek. To onlookers, it must appear as if he’s saying something reassuring to me, but what he actually says is: “They want to talk to you.”

  He pushes back
his chair, his touch slides away from me, and he returns to his team without looking back. The empty seat beside me leaves a hollow. I rub my face with my hands. I smear dirt everywhere but there’s nothing I can do about it right now. Just like I can’t help the gargoyles’ hope of rebellion or my own desperation to get out of here and back to Baelen.

  18

  The next day follows the same pattern of work in the third tunnel, except that we gain so much ground that we’re going to need to put up new supports soon. Roar and Iago argue about whether our team should put up the supports before we finish for the week or leave it for the next team. In the end, Welsian steps in and asks, “What would be honorable?”

  Roar promptly decides we’ll put up the supports before the end of the week.

  I keep my head down at breakfast and again at dinner, but it doesn’t make much difference. Halfway through the meal, Roar vacates his seat again. I look up, expecting Jasper.

  I freeze when I find myself looking at Badenoch. At the same time as he sits down, multiple gargoyles from different teams stand up, stretch, and move tables, making Badenoch’s move to our table less conspicuous.

  “Lady Storm,” he says, addressing me the way Llion does. “I am Prime Badenoch. This Cavity was once the home of my clan, the Prime Clan.”

  He’s speaking to me the same way that I spoke to all of the gargoyles after the fight with Arlo. I’d told them who I was and where I came from. Now, Badenoch is doing the same for me.

  He says, “You might be surprised to know that we gargoyles are not naturally warring folk. We are creators: farmers, carpenters, stone workers. We value beauty. Our females have always been sacred, protected, and valued.” His expression hardens. “Howl took everything that was good about our culture and destroyed it.”

  He pauses for long enough that I whisper, “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because I sense my ancestor’s heart in this mountain. The heart of Prime. Only the gargoyles from my clan feel it. But it doesn’t call to us. It pushes us away. Prime’s heart doesn’t want to be found. Do you understand?”

  He peers at me, his cautious eyes searching my own. “Sometimes I think I’m close to it and I deliberately dig in the wrong direction. I will not risk finding it. Not even to save my children. It doesn’t matter what Howl has promised us. We won’t find another heartstone for him.”

  “Who found the first one?”

  “Virtuous Rhain.”

  I recognize that as the name of Carmen’s husband. He was the gargoyle whose wings were taken.

  Badenoch continues, “He thought he could use the heartstone against Howl. But its power was too immense. It knocked him unconscious. By the time he woke up, he was in chains.”

  My heart sinks. Ever since I heard about the heartstones, I’d secretly hoped that we might find one and somehow use it to defeat Howl. Howl had told me that only a gargoyle can handle a gargoyle heartstone and the Storm had confirmed that for me. She’d also warned me against asking Jasper to try using one. Now I understand why.

  I swallow my disappointment. “Where are your children now?”

  “Their mother is dead. She took her own life after Howl forced her into his harem.” He doesn’t stop speaking, but his voice scratches, becoming a hoarse whisper. “My children are in an orphanage, but I don’t know which one.”

  After we rescued Talia on the border, she told us that she’d hidden as a worker in an orphanage—that all of the Priestesses had chosen to hide themselves in plain sight while helping the children there. I’m not sure if it will be any comfort to tell Badenoch this, but I say, “The Priestesses are taking care of them. They’re scattered throughout the orphanages and are watching over the children.”

  Some of the tension releases from the set of his shoulders. “Thank you, Lady Storm. You’ve eased my mind with this news.” He stands and as if on cue, random gargoyles at other tables stand at the same time, shuffling positions. Badenoch disappears among them.

  Each night for the next four days, a new gargoyle sits beside me and tells me his story. They talk and I listen. I meet the leaders of the other teams and hear about their wives kept prisoner in Harem Hall or at Slave Station and their children who had nowhere to go but to orphanages.

  On the sixth night, I look up to find Erit hovering beside me. I’m really not sure what to expect from this gargoyle. He was the most unwelcoming of them all when I first arrived, taunting me before and during the fight with Arlo. I really hope Jasper’s right that Erit doesn’t want to hurt me.

  He stares at my hands instead of my face, clearly uncomfortable. The males shower at the end of each day and renew their cloak of work dust during the next. But me, I’ve washed my face and hands in the sink of the bathroom in the food hall and that’s pretty much it. I’m quite certain I now stink. Possibly badly.

  He slides into the vacant seat and says, “My name is… Grievous Erit.”

  My eyes snap to his, surprised that he’s from Howl’s Clan.

  “Yeah,” he says, finally meeting my eyes, as if the admission about his clan is a relief. “I’m from that Clan. But I’m not with Howl. Some of us renounced our clan when Howl killed the King. I just wish I’d done it sooner. I… uh… didn’t have the easiest upbringing.”

  “Please,” I say, “Tell me about your clan.”

  “The simplest way to describe my clan is to tell you about Grievous himself. You see, there’s this legend that Grievous only gave his life when the new world was built because it gave him the chance to spawn the deadliest creatures: shadow panthers, snakes, and talon crows. To remind us that our lives remain in balance. That death is always around the corner.”

  I say, “I noticed that the shadow panther is the Grievous Clan’s symbol.”

  Erit’s expression becomes more hooded than before. “To be truly accepted into the Grievous Clan, teenagers must go alone into the darkest part of Mount Grievous to track and kill a shadow panther. If you return without one, you are beaten and cast out of your home. It took me three nights in the freezing cold, but I did it.”

  I remember my fight with the shadow panther during the marriage trials. It had smelled my blood and come after me. Jasper had tried to defend me and I’d raced to save his life. It was the first time I held a knife and used lightning as a weapon. “They are certainly vicious creatures.”

  A curious expression settles over his gnarly features. “You’ve seen one?”

  “Jasper and I fought a shadow panther on Scepter Peak back in Erawind.”

  His eyebrows lift. “You’re still alive so you must have killed it. Or Jasper did?”

  “I did.”

  His features remain in a state of surprise. “Have many elves killed shadow panthers?”

  I shrug. “I honestly don’t know. I’d never seen one before that night. I was injured and it must have smelled my blood. We think that’s why it came after me.”

  A thoughtful crease forms on his forehead. “Lady Storm, there must have been another reason. Shadow panthers don’t crave elven blood—”

  He stops speaking as Welsian makes a sharp warning gesture from across the table. A quick glance tells me that Cassian is approaching from the other side of the room. He must be concerned about Erit sitting beside me after all of Erit’s threats and taunts during the fight.

  Erit vacates his seat, keeping his head down, wings pinned close at his side, and his hands up. “Yeah, yeah,” he says to Cassian. “I wasn’t going to hurt her. I just wanted to tell her she won’t beat us next week. You know, psych her out a little. No harm in that, is there?”

  Cassian glares at him, letting the bone lash unravel and its tip drop to the ground.

  I roll my eyes at the aggressive gesture. “It didn’t work,” I say, casting as much contempt as I can muster in Erit’s direction. “My team could pulverize Erit in two seconds. Really, there’s no need for lashing.”

  Cassian winds up the whip, but he does so slowly, leaving the threat to hang in the air. He gla
res at Erit as the other gargoyle backs away between the tables and chairs, putting as much distance between himself and Cassian as possible.

  Cassian spins on his heel, his order clipped. “Princess, you will come with me.”

  My team shoots me varying looks of alarm. Cassian has left us alone all week other than being a malevolent presence in the background. Suddenly he wants me to come with him and I’m not sure where he could want me to go. Or what’s going to happen when I get there.

  My hesitation is enough for him to twist back to me, the threatening bone lash now pointed at me. He winds the end of the whip around his hand and closes his fist around it. “Are you refusing?”

  I shake my head, rapid side-to-side. “No-o. Just not sure if I heard you right.”

  “This way.”

  I follow him out, but I’m worried. Nobody else has been called out with me. I have no idea what he could want with me. Maybe the conversations with the gargoyles haven’t gone as unnoticed as I hoped. Maybe he’s just been biding his time to confront me about them. A backward glance tells me that my entire team is on its feet at the center table, watching me go, fists clenched, wings arched. I can practically hear their growls from here. A row of guards closes around them and I shoot my friends a rapid headshake that I hope they’ll interpret correctly: Don’t make a move.

  The door closes behind me, sealing me off from my team, and I’m alone with Cassian outside in the Cavity.

  “Hurry up,” he says, striding ahead of me as he tucks away his bone lash. My forehead puckers. Now that we’re out of sight of the guards and miners he seems more impatient than threatening.

  I keep my guard up, staying on his heels until he passes the bathing room and pulls up sharp on the other side of it. There’s another door on this side that I never noticed before.

  Cassian swings it open and I crane my head to study the small anteroom inside. It contains three chairs against one wall, a cupboard on the other, and nothing else other than another door beyond it.