The queen sighed wearily. “I try not to dwell on the terrible things that happen, and I fear I have succeeded in fooling even myself.”
Priya wasn’t sure what they were referring to, but she knew that time was running out. They wouldn’t be able to save Dhaka, but if they acted fast enough, they may be able to enlist help in saving the Capital. For despite the weaknesses of its current ruler, the Capital was the stronghold of the isle. If the invaders took it, they would have immeasurable resources at their disposal.
The queen studied her carefully. “You’re eyes are indeed beautiful,” she said wistfully. She reached for Priya’s hands, taking them gently in hers. “You don’t have to do this. No one will blame you if you run and hide. You could be safe.”
“There is no safety until these monsters are stopped,” Priya said. “Tell me what I’ll be facing.”
It was the prince who answered. “Adventure! You’ll be facing adventure, and that’s why I’m coming with you.”
“Chandra!” the queen made to stand, but Chandra pressed her back into her seat.
“No, you won’t stop me this time. This is a just cause. If I die in the process, it’ll be a good death, an honorable death.”
The queen hung her head. “Very well, if that’s your wish, I will fight you no longer.”
Priya glanced at Ravi in confusion, why would a mother not fight her son’s decision to walk into the arms of possible death?
Ravi shook his head slightly, his eyes fixed on the queen.
“Take Amit and Deepa with you.”
The Prince stared sharply at his mother, his brows snapping together. “Really? Why now? I’ve been begging you for years to—”
“Do not question me!” The queen’s dark eyes flashed in annoyance, but Priya sensed it was an act to cover what she was really feeling. If only Priya could read her better.
She glanced at Ravi to see if he’d noticed the conflict of emotions, but Ravi was as still as a statue, his mouth parted, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He was trying to catch the queen’s eye, but she studiously avoided his.
There was something strange happening here, an undertone she couldn’t define. Priya was the only outsider. It felt wrong, and it nudged her temper to rise.
“Who are Amit and Deepa?” Her words came out more forcefully than intended, and the prince chuffed in amusement, which only served to make her crosser.
She tilted her head to look at him. It seemed he was always towering over her with that arrogant tilt to his perfectly sculpted lips. He quirked a brow, and then winked saucily down at her before responding to her question.
“They were the court illusionists, until father saw fit to lock them away.”
Illusionists? That was impossible. Illusionists were a myth . . . weren’t they?
There was a knock at the doors, and a frightened-looking serving maid wearing circles of rouge on her cheeks and nose entered. Her eyebrows had been painted over in white and redrawn much higher on her forehead. She bowed low before addressing the Queen in a quick, clipped tongue.
“The King, he comes.”
The queen was on her feet instantly. She pushed a bundle containing the leftover food toward them. Priya took it. It was still warm and smelled delicious.
“Go, now. Be safe,” the queen said.
Priya and Ravi followed Chandra to one of the large tapestries on the wall. He lifted it, slipping behind and vanishing from view.
Ravi reached for her hand, and was about to pull her through when the queen spoke from behind them.
“Have you seen him?”
Priya looked at her in confusion, and then realized she was talking to Ravi.
“Not in a long while,” Ravi said.
The Queen smiled a sad, desolate smile. “Keep her safe.”
Then they were stepping through the hole behind the tapestry and into darkness.
They followed Chandra through the narrow tunnel, lit only by the light of a lamp held high in Chandra’s hand. Chandra did not speak, and so they too kept their silence. In truth it was disconcerting to be trapped in such a confined space. Were they between the walls of the palace? Were there people on the other side, living their lives? If she were to shout, would she be heard?
They came to an intersection, and Chandra took a right. The passage sloped downward before ending abruptly in a small door.
“Wait for me here,” Chandra said. He passed the lantern to Ravi before pulling back the bolt and ducking through.
They didn’t have to wait long before Chandra popped his head through the door and beckoned them through.
Priya was surprised to find that they were back in the dungeons. She recognized the corridor as the one that she’d been dragged down not too long ago. She glanced around, afraid a guard would appear at any moment.
“Quick, this way.” Chandra hurried down the corridor past the locked cells and stopped at the far end before a heavy-looking metal door. There was something odd about the door, and on closer inspection she realized what it was: There was no handle, bolt, latch, or keyhole.
Chandra rolled up his cuff and slipped off one of his bracelets. It was made of thick gold with a raised, blunt saw pattern on the outside. He ran his fingers over the door, looking for something. She saw the moment he found it, his perfect mouth curved in a smile of satisfaction. He pressed the bracelet to the door, holding it so the ridges connected with something, and then he rolled it with his hand. A series of clicks were followed by the sound of a bolt coming free.
The door popped. Chandra curled his fingers around the edge, giving it a tug. Priya saw a flight of stairs leading down into more darkness.
“Follow me. We don’t have much time. This is the only way in, and the only way out. If we’re to retrieve Amit and Deepa, we’ll need to be fast. The guards will be returning to duty in less than an hour.”
Chandra ushered them through the door and followed, locking it behind him.
The steps were stone, slippery and steep, and the walls were smooth, providing no grip. The descent was a slow one, and at the bottom they were faced with yet another door.
This one did have a keyhole. Chandra retrieved the key from a chain around his neck. She noted how hard he had to twist to move the lock, and wondered how long it had been since this door had been used.
Finally the door squeaked open and they were in.
What lay beyond was something that Priya could never have imagined.
It was a dismal replica of what lay above.
It was a city under the capital.
13
PRIYA
This city’s colors were gray and black and drab. The people, as if keeping to the theme, had developed a decidedly ashen tinge to their skin. There was a painted sky, which she imagined would have been a cheery blue once. Now it was a faded bluish gray. A lamp, large and round, was affixed to the fake sky to mimic the sun. Instead of casting a warm glow it simply served to emphasize the dreary, dismal landscape beneath it.
People milled about sluggishly, their eyes blank and empty, faces slack. They were in what passed for the market, but where above there had been color, music and laughter, here there were only soft sobs and pleading.
A man slapped a woman across the face for trying to steal a loaf of bread from his stall. A woman carrying a small child pleaded with another stall owner for a pint of milk. Everywhere Priya looked she saw sorrow.
Chandra spoke over his shoulder as he led them through the market. “The stalls are a farce. Assigned and stocked by the capital. Everything here is a farce—the jobs, the money, the whole system. Father was trying to be clever. He believes that everyone should taste the capital, and whenever a new citizen is approved an old one is sentenced to the Undercity. If someone in the capital breaks the law, if they utter a cross word or frown, they are sent here.”
That explained how the capital was always able to house more citizens. It also explained the citizens’ forced joviality. “So all these people . . . th
ey were once citizens above?”
Chandra nodded. “And now they are nothing more than prisoners. It’s this or death. Father may be insane, but he’s not stupid. The capital is a carefully crafted illusion.”
“Speaking of illusions, can you tell me why Amit was sent to the Undercity?” Ravi asked.
Chandra shook his head. “I wish I could. I asked Mother, but even she’s unsure. It wasn’t long after the girl Deepa arrived. Personally, I think she’s the one who upset Father. Amit must have intervened and doomed them both. Father’s mind works at a level nobody can comprehend; that’s why he’s so dangerous. There’s no anticipating his moods. What angers him today may please him tomorrow.”
She couldn’t imagine living under such a shadow, but surely anything was preferable to this—all these people living without the sunlight or fresh air.
“It’s funny, actually, because this place was designed by Amit years ago, by order of the king. He made certain to provide vents that pumped fresh air from above. There’s a sun building where, by using a vertical tunnel and a system of mirrors, Amit harnesses the goodness of the sun. People bathe in there at least once a week,” Chandra said.
“And you think these people should be grateful for that?” Priya asked.
“No, I don’t, but he tried to make it as comfortable as possible.” He sighed. “A prison, no matter how elaborate, is still a prison. These people have done nothing wrong except choose to live in the capital.”
They passed through the market and into a narrow street. The ground must have been neatly cobbled once, but was chipped and ragged now. They followed Chandra down the street, the heat of several pairs of curious eyes burning holes in their backs.
Chandra painted a dismal picture of inevitability. He acted as if there were no solution, no hope.
“What about you? You’re a prince, one day you will be king. The king is clearly mad, so why can’t you take the throne now? You could free these people.”
They’d come to a stop outside a small hut. It was painted bright yellow with red edging. It brought a smile to Priya’s lips to see such a bold splash of color in such a dreary place.
So it wasn’t until Chandra had knocked on the door that she realized he’d ignored her question.
A woman answered the door, her lips turning up in a delighted smile upon seeing Chandra. Her gaze flicked passed him to skim over Priya before dismissing her and moving to settle on Ravi. Her dark slanted eyes widened and welled with tears, and then she was flying toward them, knocking Priya aside as she lunged at Ravi, wrapping her arms around his neck.
Priya stared at the scene in shock and confusion. Ravi’s eyes locked with hers over the woman’s head, then his arms came up to return the woman’s embrace. His fiery eyes closed, shutting Priya out as he inhaled the woman’s scent.
Priya turned away, her heart sinking into her hollow stomach.
“Deepa, who is it?” A rumbling voice called from within.
A man, whom she assumed to be Amit, appeared in the doorway, his broad forehead crinkled in a frown. His silver hair was cropped short, but any illusion of age was dispelled by his sharp amber eyes, eyes that she had seen a hundred times before.
She turned to Ravi, who had broken away from the woman. His attention was now on the man. The look of joy on his face was all she needed to confirm her assessment.
Ravi took a step toward Amit. “Father.”
“No! You can’t be here. Ravi, why are you here!” Amit reached for Ravi, bringing his hands heavily down on his shoulders.
Ravi gripped his father’s upper arms. They remained locked like this for a long moment, and then Amit pulled Ravi into a tight embrace.
“Come, we don’t have much time,” Chandra urged. “Grab what essential items you may need and follow me. Heavy coats would be a fine idea.”
“What’s going on?” Deepa asked.
Chandra smiled cockily. “I would have thought it was obvious. We’re getting you out of here.”
Priya’s Ma had once told her a story of a man claiming to be a snake charmer. He would travel from village to village, ridding them of their snakes. He would play his pungi as he walked through the village, and all the snakes, entranced by the music created by the wind instrument, would slither from their nooks and crannies and follow him. He would lead them far away, freeing the villagers of the pests.
She felt like that snake charmer now, except her pungi was the key to the exit. As they approached the door, the number of people following them grew.
“Will they try to stop us? Will they try to escape?” Priya asked.
“I’m not sure. No one has ever left before,” Chandra said. “In truth, I hadn’t thought this far.” He sounded uneasy, and it frightened Priya. She glanced over her shoulder, locking eyes with the prisoners. So many eyes—curious, desperate, and pleading. She turned away, unable to bear it, and caught Amit watching her.
“They will not follow,” Amit said.
“How can you be so sure?” Deepa asked.
Amit broke eye contact with Priya. “Because they have nowhere else to go. They have no hope.”
Despite the wisdom of his words, Priya couldn’t help but shiver in anticipation of the attack she was certain would come. As they stood huddled around the only exit to this elaborate prison, their backs to the crowd, her scalp prickled with unease, and her palms became slick with sweat.
The click of the lock sounded too loud, almost taunting, but then Chandra was ushering her up the steps. The door slammed shut behind them, and the lock turned for the final time.
Her eyes filled with tears as ashen faces swam through her mind. She vowed she would be back. She would find a way to free these people.
At the top of the steps they encountered their first obstacle.
The guards were back on duty.
Chandra leaned against the metal door, having quickly slammed it shut.
“They’re back early.” He gnawed on his bottom lip, then shook his head. “We’re stuck until they go for their evening meal, which will be another four hours.”
“Not necessarily.” Amit leaned over Chandra, his craggy face breaking into an evil grin.
Chandra looked momentarily alarmed, and then his eyes lit up. “Damn you, Amit, you are a genius.”
Deepa rolled her eyes. “It’s like not a day has passed.”
Chandra cocked a brow in her direction. “Jealous?”
Deepa shrugged her slender shoulder. “Hardly.” She smiled coyly up at Ravi, who kept his gaze fixed on the door.
Everyone seemed to have a history. Priya didn’t mind, really, except when it came to Ravi and this . . . Deepa woman. When it came to those two, she minded, she minded a lot.
Amit was chanting low under his breath, and then a tingle ran over her skin. She rubbed her arms and then hissed as the tingle turned into tiny pinpricks.
Ravi took her hand, pulling her round to face him. He leaned in close so their faces were mere inches apart. “Look at me, Priya. It’s all right. Whatever you do, don’t scream.”
“What—” Her breath was snatched away by the sudden pain. Her limbs were on fire as if a thousand ants were stinging her. She clamped her mouth shut. Her eyes fixed on Ravi widened in horror as his visage began to shift and blur. When it cleared he was no longer Ravi but some stranger in a guard’s uniform.
Deepa, Chandra, and Amit too had been changed. She held up her hand and saw someone else’s large hairy one.
The new Amit grinned. “Let’s go.”
They stepped out of the secret passage to screams and shouts of alarm. The guards that had been stationed in the dungeons were gone.
Something was wrong. Something had pulled the guards away from their posts, and Priya’s gut clenched in apprehension.
Amit, tight-lipped and steel-jawed, motioned them to stay back, and then crept up to the main dungeon doors. He peered out, pulled back and rushed toward them. “Quick, link hands and do not let go. Hurry!”
His alarm was a palpable force, pressing down on Priya, and she grabbed onto Chandra’s hand, allowing Ravi to take her free one. The tingling raced across her body again, and this time when she looked down at her hand there was nothing there but air.
“Do not let go of each other,” Amit hissed. “Do not bump into anyone.”
The dungeon door was flung open and a huge figure strode in, his face that of a horrific beast. Priya pressed her lips together to hold back her cry of alarm. This couldn’t be happening. It was too soon, they couldn’t be here already.
But they were. The invaders were here. They were in the capital.
Chandra’s grip on her hand tightened as the warrior strode toward them. Surely he would know, surely he would see past the illusion Amit had cast, but the warrior stopped at the first cell door and peered inside. He nodded and then proceeded down the hall, stopping at the next cell and peering in.
She felt a tug on her right hand.
Chandra.
Then she was being led quickly toward the open door and out of the dungeon.
They were everywhere. Their footsteps stained with blood, the evidence of their destruction draped across balustrades and strewn across floors.
Tears blinded her. The horror reminded her of her home, her family, of her people. How many more bodies, how many more deaths? Amit led them silently, swiftly—a chain of ghosts winding between the warriors as they stabbed and hacked.
Chandra squeezed Priya’s hand so tight she had to bite down to stop from squealing in pain. She wanted to ask him to ease his grip, but speech was not an option. They may be invisible to the invaders, but their voices would not be inaudible.
They passed through the great hall, and where only a night ago there had been revellers and laughter, albeit faked; there was now only blood, gore, and the eternal silence of death.
The sun stung her eyes as she stepped outside, and the smell of smoke and fire burned her nostrils. From their vantage point on the hill they could see the capital below swimming in a haze of reds and oranges.
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