by D. S. Murphy
“Easy,” Trevor grunted. “I’m unarmed.”
I shoved him out of the way and grabbed the towel, wrapping it around myself quickly. Trevor was in boxers, and dripping wet. I pulled my eyes away from his muscled torso.
“What did you see?” I said.
“Nothing, I swear,” he said, holding up his palms, though the smirk in his eyes told me he’d gotten a good look. But whatever, I was going to have to abandon my notions of privacy living down here.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, “after yesterday? Jacob told me you were sick.”
He frowned, tousling his dark hair with a towel. I noticed he had a tattoo I hadn’t seen before on his bicep; a serpent curling around the tip of an arrowhead. They were rare in the compounds, but I’d seen several people with them down here. I knew they took weeks to heal, which meant you had to skip several weeks of renewal to get them to set right.
“Fine,” he said gruffly. “I’ll walk you back up. Jacob wants to talk to us.”
Finally.
I pulled on my jeans and a tanktop, then followed Trevor to a new area, in what looked like a laboratory. I remembered the one the king had set up, near his underground lake of the dead. This one was darker, with pipes coming out of the ceiling and cement walls, but it had decent lighting and an array of tools. Chairs facing mirrors were lined up against the wall, but they’d been pushed aside to make room for medical equipment. It looked like a cross between a workshop and an emergency room, which it probably was.
The antique chest was on the table, resting on a white sheet, like a sick patient waiting for treatment.
“I’ve tried everything I could think of,” April said. She was still in sweats, but with a heavy apron and glasses, and thick rubber gloves. “We even tried an old-school x-ray. Check it out.”
The picture showed the complex inner workings of the lock, with gears and springs and coiled tubes.
“Basically, if we pry or cut it open, it’ll ignite a combustible gas. Not too dangerous, but everything inside will be vaporized. Whoever built this, didn’t want to take any chances.”
“So there’s no way to open it?” Jacob asked.
“Not without the key,” she said. “And who knows where that could be.”
I frowned at the narrow keyhole, framed by swirling patterns engraved in brass. They reminded me of something I’d seen before.
“I know where it is,” I said suddenly. All eyes swiveled towards me.
“When I was in the capital, I went through Damien’s books. One of them was hollowed out, with a key inside. I think the patterns were similar. It has to be the same one.”
“And what if it’s not?” Jacob asked. “There’s no way to sneak back into the citadel right now, the guards are on high alert since the trials and your escape.”
“What about the royal wedding?” Trevor asked. “Lots of guests and traders, entertainers. More activity than usual. We met some on the road. The citadel will be crammed full of people. Maybe we can sneak in wearing disguises.”
Jacob looked towards Marcus, who shrugged.
“Everyone will be at the ceremony,” he said. “It’s their best chance to get in.”
“They barely survived retrieving the chest, from a supposedly abandoned compound.”
“There won’t be slagpaw in the citadel,” I said.
Probably.
“Just a few hundred elite,” Jacob crossed his arms. “And we don’t even know what’s in there.”
“They won’t even notice us. And if we had the antidote, we’d finally have a real weapon to use against them. Isn’t that worth the risk? We had one skirmish with one elite, and the five of us nearly used up all the elixir you gave us, just to get away.”
“Your war is doomed to fail without this,” Marcus added quietly. “There’s no way forward, and you know it.”
“Fine,” Jacob conceded. “But I can’t give you more of our stolen elixir. You can take some from the elite before you leave.”
“Her name is Penelope,” I said. “And she’s no good to you dead. Someone is going to have to feed her, and soon.”
“The girl has a point,” Steve said. He’d been silent until now, leaning back in a reclining chair, picking his teeth with a pair of scissors.
“She’s basically our own personal elixir factory. The more blood we feed her, the more powerful the elixir.”
“That’s not what I meant,” I frowned, pulling my wet hair back over my bare shoulder.
“And just where is this blood going to come from?” Jacob asked.
“I don’t care. Ask for volunteers.”
“When do we leave?” Jazmine said, pushing into the room.
“You’re still hurt,” Trevor said, nodding to her arm.
“I’m fine. And we’re not going to fight, right? You need people who know the city, and you might need a distraction. I can be very distracting.” She fluttered her eyelashes.
“You aren’t going for the party,” I said. “It’ll be dangerous. Luke, are you in?”
“Will there be cake?” he asked.
“There’s always cake.”
“Then let’s go crash a wedding.”
6
We left at dawn. The ashfall was thick, so we kept our masks on and wrapped thick shawls around our necks and noses.
Marcus couldn’t risk getting caught with us, so he went ahead alone. Apparently he’d been named under torture, but convinced the king he had nothing to do with the attacks, or the rebels. He was on probation and temporarily stripped of his title, but his curate pass and outfit still gave him wide access.
I wasn’t sure if I could trust Camina right now, plus her extremely light hair and skin would draw too much attention in the citadel. That left Jazmine, Trevor and I. Which was fine by me. I could move faster on my own anyway. It was a risk, since any of us could be recognized, but we knew the citadel.
We didn’t speak and moved quickly through the dark woods, keeping off the path until we were closer to the citadel and could see the dull shine of the metal domes and crystal spires, like a crown of authority dominating the skyline. The walls loomed above us as we circled the citadel. It was nearly five miles all the way around, but we only needed to check the first two secret entrances to the ruins beneath the city to know they were no longer a viable option. The doorways looked like they’d imploded, and were stuffed with rubble and blocked with huge boulders. Trevor moved closer to get a better look, but I grabbed his arm and pointed at the blinking red lights in the tree line. Security cameras.
“They’re probably all over the citadel,” Luke said.
“So what’s our move?” I asked, scanning the tall walls. My skin prickled at the memory of my feat at the trials; using the giant guillotine to slingshot over the spiked ramparts. I must have been out of my mind. Besides, the trials were over, and instead of games and challenges, the walls were now lined with archers. I counted a dozen just in this section. We were deep enough in the woods for cover, but I pulled up my hood anyway.
“There are six entrances,” Trevor said. “Maybe one of the smaller ones will be less guarded.”
“Too open,” Jazmine said. “We’ll disappear faster in a crowd. I say we walk through the front gates. They’ll be less likely to spot us, and they won’t be expecting us.”
We hiked into position, a rocky summit half a mile from the massive arched doorways. Jazmine was right, a long line of carts and merchants were being processed. It was slow but efficient. The guards were scanning everyone with metal detectors, seizing weapons, and peering under carriages with hand-held mirrors.
“We’ll have to leave our weapons here,” Trevor said.
“I’m not going in there unarmed,” I said.
“You’d be dead in a fight anyway,” Trevor said. “If any of us gets caught, we’d never be able to fight our way out.”
“Jacob predicted this,” Luke said. “So he made us these.” He unwr
apped a leather parcel, displaying a row of sharpened wooden stakes.
“Aim for the heart, or the eye.”
I took two and tucked them into my coat. It made me feel marginally better, until we got close enough to see the guards were also checking people’s hands.
Shit. I was wearing a pair of dark gloves that covered the red marks on my skin, but I knew what they were searching for. They were searching for me.
I looked back at Trevor in a panic. We’d fanned out, sticking close to different carts and making small talk with the merchants, trying to assimilate. A man’s cart got stuck in a rut and Trevor and Luke helped him lift it out, then offered to carry some of his gear. Jazmine sidled up to a pair of jugglers and pretended to try and steal their balls, like they were playing a game of keepaway with her. She even took the belled jester hat off one of their heads.
I was the only one who noticed the checkpoint. The guards were making everyone remove their gloves, checking their palms and wrists carefully. There was no way I’d make it through, but now we were too close to abandon. If we left the line we’d call even more attention to ourselves. I searched around desperately and came up with a quick plan when I noticed cart full of berries. A young girl was sitting on the back playing with a bunny. I walked up beside the cart and when nobody was looking, I knocked one of the baskets over, spilling wild berries all over the ground.
The horse behind us reared up just as the girl tumbled out of the cart, reaching for the berries as if she could pick them all up. I grabbed her shirt to keep her out of harm’s way, pulling her out from under the horse’s hooves just in time.
“Cynthia!” Her mother scolded, lifting her dress. “I told you to be careful back there, now look what you’ve done!”
“I didn’t do it,” she said. “It must have been Mr. Hops.”
“Hurry up!” shouted the man behind us.
“It’s okay,” I said, “I’ll help collect them.” I leaned down quickly and grabbed two fistfuls of berries, making sure to squish them just enough to make the juice run down my wrists. The girl smiled at me sheepishly. A handful of young boys and even a few adults helped themselves to the free berries. I carried as many as I could back into the straw baskets.
“What’s your name?” I asked the girl.
“Cynthia” she said. “And this is Mr. Hops.”
“If you want, I can ride in the back with you, and make sure they don’t spill again?” I lifted my eyes to her mother. She frowned at first, but then rolled her eyes and nodded. I climbed up just as the horse began moving again. A minute later we were at the gate.
I grabbed Cynthia’s hand and held it up to the guard, our palms sticking together.
“Sorry,” I said, “we had an accident. Want some berries?” I grabbed a handful and held them up, the juice dripping between my fingers.
I smiled as widely as I could, willing him to let us pass. He scanned us quickly, studying the dark red stains on our clothes and the girl’s tired-looking mother, and the piles of squashed berries behind us.
But gradually he raised his hand and yelled, “let them through.”
He reached out as we passed, his arm brushing against my hip. I thought for sure he’d seen the wooden stakes strapped inside my jacket, but his hand came away with a bunch of berries, which he popped into his mouth with a wink.
“There’ll be dancing after the wedding,” he called out after me, “hope to see you there.”
I smiled and waved, even though I knew I wouldn’t be sticking around that long. With any luck we’d be long gone before the party started.
I waited till the cart turned the corner, then said a quick goodbye and jumped off the cart. I brushed the juice off my skin and stuffed my fingers back into the leather gloves, then tied my hair up into a tight ponytail.
“Why didn’t he recognize me?” I asked, once the others had made it safely through the front gate as well.
“When you left the capital, you were chosen. Almost a princess. Now you look like you’ve spent a week in the wilds, living off squirrels and roots.”
“That was a neat trick, by the way,” Luke said.
Jazmine was the last to join us. She’d had one of the jesters paint her face, with big red lips and white circles on her cheeks against her dark skin.
“Shut up,” she said, before wiping the makeup off with her sleeve.
“We’re just lucky none of the guards recognized us. We’ll have to stay as far away from the ceremony as possible.”
“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” Trevor said. “The elite and nobles will be dressed in their expensive finery. The guards are looking for weapons, not faces. And they’d never expected you to show up back here, not willingly.”
“So now what?” Luke asked.
“We should wait until the ceremony starts to make sure everyone is distracted. I have an idea, follow me.”
We followed the crowd, who were surging into the central plaza of the citadel beneath the palace. Performers on stilts wearing colorful costumes towered above fire dancers and merchants. It was like King Richard was distracting everyone with spectacle.
The green mazes used during the trials had been cleared away. In their place was a raised stand with an altar made of pink and white roses in a large heart shape. Even from a distance I could smell the sweet floral scent. Hundreds of chairs were set up facing the altar, divided by a central aisle with a long red carpet. The chairs were still half empty, as the esteemed guests and nobles were slow to take their seats. Most of them were socializing at the round tables near the back, with large carafes of sparkling wine and kegs of beer.
Around this display, divided by a red velvet banister and wooden slats, the public was already crowding for a good view of the ceremonies. We avoided the worst of the crowds, instead opting for the upper garden areas on the walls around the city. Even these were crowded, but we managed to find a place to stand with a good view of the area below us. It was also near Damien’s apartments, so I could sneak off and grab the key during the ceremony, if all went well.
Horns sounded, as a cue for the guests to take their seats. The nobility and elite strolled leisurely to their spots, as the crowds outside the fenced area roared with approval. I noticed from this angle the king’s guard surrounded the ceremony, lined along the perimeter like toy soldiers.
Unlike the grunts at the gate, these were special troops, their visors down, their mouths grim. Red masks covered the lower half of their face, hiding everything but their eyes. They stood rigidly, clutching wicked-looking spears and axes. I wasn’t sure if it was just a show of force, or if King Richard was actually apprehensive.
The wedding was a big deal every year, and often televised, but I’d never seen it like this before. I realized suddenly, it might have all been for me. I still remembered the welcome speech the king gave when I first came to the citadel of light. During the presentation ceremony, he toasted Damien. Who had never chosen before, who refused to choose. I learned later it was because he disagreed with his father’s politics, and that he’d only chosen me to spare me from a worse fate with Nigel.
The king had made a big deal out of his son finally settling down; maybe that’s why so much extra effort had gone into this ceremony. It almost made me sad. I’d basically left Damien alone at the altar. But not because I wanted to. Because the king tried to use me as a puppet. He compulsed me to kill Trevor, a symbolic end to the brewing rebellion, and I refused.
My breath hitched as I saw Damien, sitting behind his father on a large red velvet chair with dark wood. Like the other suitors, he was wearing an all-white suit. But when the betrothed elite stood up together – ten of them – Damien remained seated, crossing his arms sullenly. Even from this distance he was handsome. All the elite were beautiful in their own way, but Damien was almost painfully beautiful.
The audience oohed as the bridal march began. Giant paper lanterns in the shape of swans, their necks entwined, fo
rmed a heart-shaped tunnel of glowing feathers.
First, a pair of young children came down the aisle throwing pink rose petals. Then the brides came in pairs, in long teal dresses that stood out beautifully from the carpet of pink rose petals.
Without me, Jazmine and Camina, there were eight sets. I recognized them, one by one. Jessica’s blond hair was trimmed short, but she’d left one side long. Jazmine ribbed me in the side and pointed.
My heart nearly burst when I saw Mary among the others. That means she must have survived the fall during the trials.
I blinked back a tear, and Jazmine squeezed my hand. I’d hated leaving her behind.
“You should go,” Trevor said, squeezing my arm. “We’ll keep watch from here.”
“Will you be able to get in?” Luke asked.
“Yeah, I got this.” I said. “Back in a minute.”
I pulled my hood up and cut through the crowd towards Damien’s apartment. I was almost reluctant to turn my back on the proceedings.
It was breathtaking… a wedding to kill for. I couldn’t believe it was all happening without me. This was supposed to be my wedding day. Instead, I was a wanted fugitive, using the ceremony to plot a heist. How had things gone so wrong?
Finally I pushed through the back of the crowd, who were straining their necks and standing on boxes to see the stage, and darted down the nearly empty streets. It was eerily silent. Penelope had told me the purification engines in the citadel were built with different technology. It was a barely perceptible hum, as opposed to the loud buzz you couldn’t escape in the compounds.
It meant we couldn’t use our masks, of course, as nobody wore them in the citadel, which made me feel vulnerable. I kept my hood up and hair down, and moved quickly past the crowds whose eyes were glued to the stage.
“Dearly Beloved,” King Richard’s voice made me jump, until I realized it was coming from a loudspeaker on a pole to my right.