“What is that?” Aro says, pointing to the strangely shaped ceiling on one side of the room. It cuts low enough to block off a significant chunk of the room. Space we need back.
“Remember when I told you how we escaped?”
“That’s the staircase?” He gapes.
I smirk. “This is the underside of it, yes. We crafted it from the secret room below us and made sure the walls and the floor cut off any means of entering this place. From the outside it seemed like a staircase leading nowhere. But we need to fix it if we want to use this place as our base of operations.”
Owen frowns. “Won’t they know exactly where we are then?”
“No, they filled it in. The surface is at least three stories above us, so the ground might tremble as we shift things around, but they won’t know it’s us. Even if they do figure it out, they’re not getting past that marble with their machines. They’d need the key. Only I have that,” I say.
“You three”—Zandria points to the boys—“should stay back in the tunnel while we do this.”
Zandy weaves her hands and I hum the words to a spell. Our magic builds and mingles and worms its way into the wood and steel and stone of the staircase. Then it begins to lift, pushing and pulling, setting supports and beams back where they belong.
Then it’s done.
“It’s safe,” I call over my shoulder, and Remy, Owen, and Aro enter the room again.
“Incredible,” Aro says.
Owen gasps. “I almost didn’t believe you’d really made that until now.”
Zandy laughs. “Give us some credit.”
Owen grins back and tilts his head at her. Remy, however, scowls at their exchange.
“Let’s get this place cleaned up if we’re going to stay here,” Remy says, pushing farther into the room.
He’s right; the hall is a disaster. Gray dust coats everything except the handful of things we disturbed the last time we were here. Broken marble pillars, the shattered, charred remnants of shelves and cases—the Alchemist Alliance took no chances when they left.
We fan out, picking up debris and piling it in the center of the room. Then Zandria and I take stock of the pieces we have left.
“We could put up a few walls so we each have some privacy and a place to sleep,” I suggest, casting a glance at Aro.
Zandria gives me a withering look. “Don’t get distracted, sister. We have too much important work still to do.”
I can feel my cheeks redden. “Never. Don’t worry about that,” I say. “We could set up another area for eating and strategizing?”
“And a jail. Just in case we take any prisoners and need to interrogate them. You know . . .” Zandy taps her chin with a finger. “The hidden room the Alchemist Alliance used would be perfect for that. We’ll just need to install something to restrain the prisoners.”
“Are we planning on taking many prisoners?” I ask, frowning. This isn’t tied to anything we’ve discussed, and I’m not sure it’s in our best interest.
She shrugs. “Better to have and not need, than need and not have.”
“I suppose,” I say.
We continue to map out the space, my sister and I using our magic to make dividers out of the larger pieces of debris until we’re exhausted. We sit in the makeshift war room to eat a quick meal.
“So,” Owen begins, glancing around the table. “Where should we start in overthrowing these royals I hear so much about?”
Zandria smirks at him, but Aro speaks first. “I think we need to get the alchemicals into the water supply as soon as possible. Every day that poisons more people, and we must stop it.”
I nod my agreement. “Let’s plan to do that tomorrow night.”
“Freeing our fellow Magi from the dungeons,” Zandria says. “There’s nothing more important we can do than save them.”
“And persuade them to pledge their loyalty to the Alchemist Alliance,” I add, though Zandria doesn’t seem as vehement about that part. “Maybe we can steal weapons from the guards. Deplete their stores,” I say, hoping to bring a light to my sister’s eyes, but instead she frowns.
“What, and alert them to the fact we’re here?”
“They’ll find out the moment we begin freeing Magi prisoners. We may as well put them on edge and literally disarm them in the process.” I’ve been considering this idea for a while. “They won’t know the difference between us and simple thieves.”
“Someone will,” she says darkly.
“Let him know. Let him be afraid,” Remy says suddenly. “It would serve Darian right to feel nervous for once. I like the idea.”
Zandy rolls her eyes. “We need to focus on freeing Magi.”
Aro smiles. “Darian will know that’s us too.”
“But it’s still our number one priority,” I say quickly. “Remy, do you know where the weapons storehouses are from your stint in the palace guard?”
“Most of them, yes.”
“Excellent. We’ll add that to the list.”
We plot until our meal is over and we’re all tired enough to heed the call of slumber. Aro and I place our bedrolls side by side in our makeshift room, but he’s already snoring when I’m finally ready to sleep. I settle on my bedroll, exhausted but strangely giddy. Then I curl into him and his warmth and quickly give over to my dreams.
The next night, as darkness falls, Aro, Owen, and I slip away, headed toward the southern part of the city. On the plains outside the walls, a system of aqueducts runs from the lake lands beyond the mountains to the south. The northern territories are more sparsely populated, so the aqueducts don’t extend all the way into those woods, but the running water in the city depends on them.
Hidden in my pocket are several vials of alchemicals Aro and Catoria swear will neutralize the ones put in the waters by that rogue Alliance member, and more recently Darian. All I know of the contents of these vials is what they’ve told me. I only hope they’re right and that this will prevent more Heartless from being born—as well as not make the whole matter even worse.
Aro is certain it will work. I suspect it’s partly because he was fascinated by Catoria and her wisdom. Our time in the Sanctuary revealed they have a lot in common too. And she’s the first Magi aside from me to treat him as an equal.
Owen casts the cloaking spell while I work the silencing spell. Aro leads us to the building that houses the castellum, a central water tank that feeds water to the whole city. It’s taller than the buildings around it, a hulking construction of stone fortified by metal columns and supports. Owen picks up the silencing spell too so I can cast an opening spell on the lock to the back doors. Then we slip inside. We follow the hall as it circles inward, directing us to two doors. A quick check reveals the one to our right leads into a room filled with levers and gears to control the water coming in and out of the castellum. The other, straight ahead, has a square window in the center and leads to a catwalk above the water tank. I unlock the door with a spell, and we step onto the walkway.
The basin is massive—more than double the size of the Palace’s throne room and at least three stories deep, if not more. This, like many other things, was made by the Technocrats when they took over Palinor by force. Back in Catoria’s time, the alchemicals would’ve needed to be added to the actual water source—the lakes to the south—or maybe just the aqueducts. Yet their impact rippled throughout an entire century. I palm one of the vials weighing down my pocket. How long do these things last?
Owen keeps watch while Aro and I walk single file along the catwalk that crisscrosses the top of the basin. When we stop in the middle, the walkway sways under our feet, but the Technos take great pride in their craft. It will hold.
At least I hope so.
I pull the vials from my pocket. “Are you ready?” I hand a couple to Aro.
For the first time, he seems slightly nervous about what we’re about to do. “I suppose I have to be, don’t I?”
“Or we don’t do it. But you and Catoria
are experts on how to neutralize what contaminated the waters in the first place. If anyone could find a solution, it would be the two of you.”
Aro pauses for a moment. “You really believe that?”
“Absolutely.”
He opens the stoppers to his vials. “Then let’s get this over with.”
I mirror his actions and we each pour our vials over the railing. The alchemicals shimmer and swirl. Then the water begins turning black. I suck my breath in sharply between my teeth as Aro pulls me to his side.
“What’s happening?” I ask.
“Magic, I assume. The darkness must be part of the process to neutralize the old alchemicals. The new ones are destroying whatever is left in there. Look.” He points to the walls of the basin. “See how it’s concentrated around the edges? Whatever Darian put in here must have latched on to the walls to continuously infect the waters.”
Even as he says the words, the edges of the basin grow darker and more shadowed.
“What about the darkness in the middle?” I ask.
He frowns. “Maybe that’s the last vestiges of the first dose of alchemicals, run here through the aqueduct from the south. Catoria wasn’t sure how much her assistant had put in the waters. Perhaps it’s concentrated in a lake like it is here in the basin.”
“We should hurry,” Owen calls over to us, a worried expression on his face. “I heard something in the hall.”
We quickly pocket the empty vials. At the other end of the basin there’s another door. Owen pushes us through it. As we leave, I glance at the water once more—it shimmers again and all the darkness vanishes, as if it had never been there. Whatever those alchemicals did, they changed something in the water.
The sound of boots on the catwalk’s metal echoes behind us, and we waste no time casting our protective spells. When the door bursts open, we all flatten ourselves against the wall, letting the men run by us on a wild-goose chase. With our shield spell in place, they have no idea we’re there.
As soon as they’re a safe distance away, we peel off the wall. This hallway winds in much the same way as the first one we took. After two more encounters with the guards, in which we sneak out under their noses, we find a side door and slip into the darkness. It was more humid in the castellum than I realized, and the cool night air is a welcome change. Aro’s steps seem lighter than usual, as if a weight has finally been lifted from his shoulders.
Tonight, we did something good. We took the first step toward uniting the Magi and Technocrats. I only hope we don’t stumble during the next.
CHAPTER 22
WE’VE ONLY BEEN BACK IN THE CITY FOR one full day, but my sister and I, armed with Aro’s insider knowledge of the Palace halls and secret passages, are ready to launch our new mission: recruit more allies.
Starting with the Magi prisoners.
We can’t free them all at once. We’ll rescue one tonight, then return tomorrow for another, maybe two if the first night goes smoothly. And every night we can after that, we’ll steal another from under their noses. It may not be an army strong in numbers like the Technocrats or even a small army like the Magi still loyal to Isaiah, but it will be strong in magic.
And that counts for quite a lot.
With luck, it will be enough to prevent Darian from carrying out his plans. Then we’ll have to figure out how to deal with the king and queen.
I pocket the black marble key, only mildly concerned about leaving all three boys behind together. Owen should be all right, but Remy is highly suspicious of Aro, and Aro is certainly wary of him.
But if they lay a finger on him, I’ll know immediately.
When we reach the section of the tunnels not protected by the magic-infused marble, we cast our spells to keep us concealed. Darian sent Aro down here searching for exactly what we found; he may have conned someone else into searching for it too, for all we know. We must be extremely cautious.
Zandy is quieter and more careful than I have ever seen her in these tunnels. She whispers fiero and light sparks in her palm. She holds it up to illuminate our path. Aro’s instructions take us farther down the main tunnel area than we’ve explored before. Once we sought that which was hidden; now we’re looking for a way into the Palace itself.
The tunnels are just as I remember them: cool and damp, with a stench I wish I could forget. But I still had some of the ointment that lessens the smell in my pack, and we rubbed it under our noses before we left, which helps. We pass the remnants of Aro’s demolition project—a couple of powered-down excavator mechs and rubble, rubble everywhere. Everything we see and the nothing we hear indicates this tunnel is now abandoned. Zandria begins to relax, but I remain strung tight as a wire.
Appearances aside, I don’t think it’s possible to be too careful around the Technocrats, especially in or under the Palace.
“Just like old times, isn’t it?” Zandria remarks.
“It feels that way, doesn’t it?”
“I’ve missed this,” she says quietly, and my heart pinches.
“Me too,” I agree.
I wasn’t sure how she’d react to being back in this place, so close to where she was captured. She’s taking it much better than I expected, and that gives me hope. I reach out and squeeze her hand. She squeezes back, a little piece of solidarity in the darkness.
It gives me the courage to finally broach a topic with her that I’ve been considering as we traveled here. “When we free the Magi in the dungeons, many of them may need help acclimating to freedom again. What do you think about being in charge of helping them do that? I know it hasn’t been easy for you, but you know exactly what they’re dealing with. I think you’d be best for the job.”
Surprise flits over her face for a moment, then settles into consideration. “I think I’d like that,” she says.
What I don’t tell my sister is that I hope this will help her too. She’s made it clear she doesn’t want to talk to me about her time in the dungeons. But she needs to work through it somehow. Helping others who’ve been through the same trauma might do the trick.
When we approach the access point, I keep an eye out for the signs Aro told us about. We enter what seems like a dead-end tunnel, but upon closer examination, the far wall doesn’t quite look right.
“There it is!” Zandria whispers.
On the wall is an emblem—three concentric circles with a diagonal line striking through them. It’s the Technocrats’ sigil, small enough that it’s easy to miss, and the key to entering the Palace.
“Would you like to do the honors?” I ask my sister.
She presses the emblem. The brick slides into the wall and we stand back as a door swings outward. We step into the darkness, Zandy’s light held aloft. After ascertaining that we are indeed alone, we close the door behind us. Compared to the tunnels we used to get into the city proper last night, these have not been maintained and thus are rarely, if ever, used. The walls are thickly coated in dust and cobwebs. The only hint of someone passing recently are the faint marks of boot prints on the dusty floor. Maybe Aro’s from months ago.
“We should cover our tracks,” I say. Zandria works a handspell, bringing up a light wind that whips behind us as we go, obscuring all trace of our having passed by.
And throwing dust into the air, but we breathe through our cloaks as a makeshift filter. The tunnel takes a steep turn up, then levels out not long after. According to Aro, we’re nearing the dungeons. After continuing upward for a few more levels, we see the sigil on the wall and know another door must lie behind it.
First, we wait to make sure there aren’t guards nearby.
“Ampleo,” I whisper, and the sounds beyond the wall increase. We hear the echoing of boots, but they fade quickly. Someone was just walking away from this wall. That’s good news for us.
Zandria weaves her hands in a spell that makes a small circle in the brick turn translucent, about eye level and only a couple inches wide. She peers through to determine whether the coast is clea
r.
She shakes her head. “No one that I can see. Should be safe.”
A strange heaviness falls over me. The faint memory of the times we searched for entries like this as we crawled beneath the city, reveling in the idea of being the monsters under every Technocrats’ bed. Now I know we’re all a little monstrous, some more than others. And it’s up to us little monsters to defeat the biggest of all. The ones who would destroy Magi and Technocrats alike.
Our campaign against them begins tonight.
I cast the cloaking spell again as I press the sigil, and the door slides open to let us pass through. It whispers closed behind us as we scan the corridor in each direction. This time, Zandria casts the amplifying spell, and we determine we can hear more feet coming from the left side of the tunnel than the right.
Right it is.
We creep down the hall, invisible to the guards. When footsteps approach rapidly, we flatten ourselves against the wall and hold our breaths. A pair of elite guards march down the corridor, marked by their black cloaks with a silver metal band just above the hem. Their faces are grim and expressionless, as cold as the metal swords at their sides.
I pity the person they’re going to retrieve.
When they’re out of hearing distance, Zandria leans over. “We should find Darian’s lab. Destroy whatever equipment he’s created to drain the Magi.” Her body vibrates with rage. I wonder how many times she was dragged away by the elite guard for questioning or torture. For all I know, she could’ve been alone the entire ordeal, or tortured multiple times a day. But I can’t blame her for not wanting to relive it. I wouldn’t want to either.
“Another night, definitely. Aro can give us specific directions. I’m not sure how to get there from here.”
“We shouldn’t wait. We’re in the Palace. We can’t let him use it on another Magi if we can help it.”
I place a hand on her arm. “We’re here to rescue more allies tonight. We’ll have a better chance of success if we know exactly where we’re going first.”
Her eyes flash with frustration, and for a moment I fear she’s going to take off like she used to do. But instead she inhales deeply and shoves that pent-up frustration down.
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