by Emma Hamm
Danielle was lucky to be deep in the abyss where she couldn’t see the strange creatures who thought they had tamed him. Though she might have been an ally in a battle of wits, she also would have been even more frightened.
And he didn’t want her to be afraid any longer.
Just the thought of her conjured up an apparition. She stepped toward him, her form misty and beautiful, like a ghost made of silver and spiderwebs.
She reached forward and touched a single fingertip to his cheekbone. Her touch trailed down to his jaw, and it was the most wondrous of touches. Heat bloomed wherever her finger stroked. He’d never known such delicacy in his life.
“He’s warm,” she whispered. “Why is he warm?”
The Emperor furrowed his brow at the strange words his mind conjured before he felt the stones underneath his feet shift, quake, and then thunder as the foundation of the Hollows fell.
“Earthquake!” someone shouted, their voice ringing through the caverns.
Chapter 23
Danielle tucked the ancient Dread underneath her arm and squeezed their bodies against the wall. It was the best she could do to protect both of them from the stones raining down.
Storyteller struggled against her. “Let me go! My wings, child, my wings!”
He had a bad wing. A rock clipped her shoulder, the pain white hot. She drew them away from the wall just enough to free his wing. “There!” she shouted above the din. “Is that better?”
“Much!”
Storyteller stretched his wing up and above them. She stared up at the bony skeleton and cried out when a stone struck it, but bounced away.
“No,” she whispered. “You’ll hurt yourself, Storyteller.”
“We’re both going to get hurt,” he replied. “Earthquakes are dangerous in the Hollows. Allow an old man to protect you, princess.”
She nodded in response, but couldn’t help the tears streaming from her eyes. This wasn’t a fairytale. He wasn’t the knight saving the princess. He was a man. A man who could very well die from the wounds already dripping blood like rain down the skeletal remains of his wing.
The earth shook again. A crashing echo blasted through the tunnel, wind and crushed stone filling the air with so much dust she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t even see, although she tried her best to peer through the sudden fog. Another bang, so loud her ears ached, and she flinched back against the wall. Or was she pushed by the second blast of air?
“Your skirt!” Storyteller shouted in her ear.
She could use it as an air filter. Why hadn’t she thought of that?
Without hesitation, Danielle reached for the hem and ripped the gauzy material from the bottom to her waist. She stripped out of it almost as quickly, shredding the fabric into two equal bindings. Her bloomers would have to suffice for now.
First, she tied one strip around Storyteller’s face, no matter how much he argued. Then, she tied the second around the bottom half of her own face and breathed in hesitantly.
It wasn’t perfect, but she could inhale without feeling as though shards of stones were taking up residence in her lungs.
“What happened?” she asked, ears ringing.
Storyteller watched the dust motes around them. “A cave in, I assume.”
“Is there another way out of here?”
He nodded. “There is.”
“Good, how do we go?”
“Wait, child. There may be another quake and we don’t want to move if it will only cause more cave ins. Patience is best in times like these.”
She didn’t have much patience right now. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping her standing, and she wasn’t sure how long that would last her. Already her knees were shaking, her hands twitching, and her legs threatened to collapse.
A cave in?
An earthquake?
She hadn’t realized living in the Hollows would be so dangerous, and yet, she supposed it also made sense. These people weren’t living in the lap of luxury.
Worse yet, she could have died. Storyteller could have died. And there was no where for them to go that was better than this place.
The tunnels. The ledges. Even the network of mud and earth leading down into the Hollows could all collapse at any moment.
Danielle lost control over her legs and fell hard on the ground.
Storyteller let his battered, bleeding wing droop and sank down onto his haunches beside her. “Princess?”
“I’ll be all right,” she whispered, staring off into the distance and trying to catch her breath. “I’ll be fine.”
But she wasn’t. She wasn’t fine, she worried this place would fall down around her head. That she would end up in a tomb of stone, just like the dead man she’d touched.
Tears rained down her cheeks, unbidden and uncontrollable now. Shivers shook her entire body, and she was so frigid. Her hands were ice. Her arms speckled with gooseflesh, and she didn’t know why.
Danielle had been in danger before. Even the Dread had tried to kill her, but she’d survived it. She was stronger than a cave in.
She lifted her head and stared at the massive destruction in the once pristine tunnel. Dust covered the ground. Sizeable chunks of stone and even some boulders decorated the tunnel floor. The air still swirled with white, mist-like dust. She could barely see the other side of the tunnel.
Storyteller reached out and placed a single hand on her shoulder. “Being afraid of death doesn’t make you weak, princess. It means you have a healthy respect for life.”
“I don’t want to die,” she whispered. “I don’t want to die in a cave in, or underground. I don’t want to be here.”
“None of us wanted to be here.” Storyteller rose to his feet, wincing with pain. “But we’re here now, and that means we have to make the best of it. You’re only gifted one life.”
She breathed out a low sigh and tried to control the rapid pace of her heart. It wanted to thunder out of her chest, and she wanted to breathe again.
Though it took some time, she meditated as the Emperor had taught her.
One breath in.
One breath out.
Remember how strong you are, the Emperor’s voice whispered in her mind. You survived the King. Now you will survive so much more.
Danielle could continue onward because she had to. She had two choices. Stay here and die in the rubble, or get up and follow Storyteller toward safety.
She stood.
“Good girl,” Storyteller said. “Now, we just have to crawl through the stone there and we’ll be on our way again. No one is supposed to know about that tunnel, but I remember when it was built.”
She followed his fingertip and stared in the direction. Wasn’t that... Yes. It was where the man was entombed. “We’re crawling through his resting place?” she asked.
“In a way. The god wasn’t laid to rest there forever, you know. He won’t mind.”
“Is he even aware we’re here?” The question seemed strange to voice. “If he’s a god, it seems strange that he’s just...”
When she hesitated, Storyteller filled in her words. “Dead?”
“Yes. Perhaps not so callous a word, but I can’t think of anything else right now.”
“He’s dead. That’s what we call it, although he isn’t dead forever. So perhaps there’s another word for it. You’re the royal, not me.” Storyteller reached for her hand and shuffled forward. “Come, stay with me. I can’t see a damned thing.”
“I can only see a little.” Danielle could see the stones which might trip them up, however. Which meant she was a better guide than Storyteller.
Together, they picked their way across the tunnel and toward the wall where the god lay. That too had been destroyed by the earthquake. The stones had almost all shook loose and much of the ceiling had caved in around the place where the Dread once worshiped.
“Where is he?” she asked, helping Storyteller through the gap.
The Dread hugged his wings in tight to his side
s and clambered through the opening into the darkness beyond. “Don’t know, don’t care right now. First, we find safety.”
Danielle reached out a hand to steady herself, only to recoil when she planted her hand on something smooth and warm.
The god slumped over the stones, his body prone and limp. She had thought with all the falling rocks that he might have been injured, yet not a single mark showed on his smooth back.
Muscles bulged where he leaned and the warmth radiating off his body was so lovely. She wanted to curl up next to him, just to steal some heat when she was so very, very cold.
Danielle stroked her hand down his back. She followed the deep valley of his spine and watched for any kind of movement. Any suggestion this man was alive.
He didn’t move. He didn’t even breathe.
But she ghosted her fingers over strange, flat planes on his shoulder blades. Old scars welted over them, as if someone had taken a knife and carved out twin pieces of his flesh.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
It seemed wrong to leave a god on the ground when she might have propped him up against a wall. But he was too big for her and Storyteller to shift. An old man and a terrified woman could do little to help such a large figure.
Thus, she left him where he was.
“Will someone come back for him?” she asked as she eased through the opening and out the other side. “It seems wrong to just leave him here. Alone.”
“He’s not alive yet, princess. We can leave him wherever he is for now.” Storyteller winked. “He’ll know you were kind to him when he was at his weakest.”
How? How could a dead man know she had touched his back?
Danielle shook her head and reached for Storyteller’s hand. “Come on, you old fool. A dead man cannot know I touched his back.”
“Ah, but a man who’s not dead, can.”
“You speak in riddles more than you speak in tongues. You know that, don’t you?”
For all the dangers they had survived together, the Storyteller could still laugh at her jokes. The sound of his merriment rang through the tunnels with such mirth, it made her smile.
It didn’t matter that a thick layer of grime covered her skin. It didn’t matter that her hair was plastered to her skull with rubble and earth.
They had survived. Together.
Somehow, that meant far more than just living in a castle when all the peasants were going about their days.
Danielle hadn’t ever felt this alive. She’d never understood what it meant to be exhilarated just to have breath in her lungs.
They continued picking through the tunnel until the stones lessened. The dust still permeated the air, but at the very least, they could walk without fearing they’d fall flat onto their faces.
A few shadows moved up ahead. More Dread, some of them the ancients, others younger. They all reached for each other, drawing warm bodies into even warmer embraces. Checking to make sure those who were loved were still alive.
In that moment, Danielle realized they were all loved. The Dread cared for each other far more than she might have ever imagined.
Her eyes grew misty again. Two of the Dread fell into each other’s arms, sobbing that the other was okay. She hadn’t witnessed love like that. Not the kind of love which drew fear straight from one’s soul and healed it.
“Princess?” Storyteller’s voice split through their companionable silence.
“Yes?”
“No matter what happens, remember. Sometimes people deal with fear in strange ways. Anger is normal when someone is afraid of losing one they care about.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
Danielle didn’t have to wait for clarification from Storyteller. Instead, a roar rocked through the earth so powerfully she feared another earthquake had shook the stones at her feet.
“What on earth-”
The question wasn’t one she had to ask. Settling dust revealed a shadow shoving others aside. The Dread stumbled away from their Emperor, who stormed toward her with red glowing eyes.
Anger warped the surrounding air, radiating heat. The Emperor wasn’t just mad. He wasn’t just angry.
He was an enraged demon, ready to claw the very stones above her head down upon her skull.
What had she done this time? Danielle hadn’t been the person to cause the earthquake. Such things were impossible unless she was some kind of sorceress. Which she was certain she was not.
Storyteller released his hold on her arm and slipped off somewhere she couldn’t see. Coward. He might not want to argue with his Emperor, but she had no qualms about it.
“Don’t you yell at me,” she snarled as the Emperor approached. “I did nothing, and you cannot think I had some hand in this.”
“Shut up, Danielle.”
“No! I will not suffer more of your anger because you-”
The Emperor reached out and yanked her against his heart so quickly her mouth mashed against his bare chest. His heartbeat raced so loud she could hear it, and his heaving breaths lifted his stomach against hers.
Arms as thick as tree trunks wrapped around her shoulders and waist. He drew her so close, she didn’t know where she stopped, and he began.
He was hugging her? Not yelling at her? Then why had he been so angry?
The warmth of his body sank through her thin clothing. She was in nothing more than a thin corset and bloomers, her skirts having long since been torn off. The heat radiating from him in steaming waves felt so good.
She reached her arms around his thick waist and settled against his chest. She tilted her head and let his heartbeat lull hers into slowing its wild thunder.
“You’re alive,” he murmured into her ear. “I thought I would lose you for good.”
“Still here,” she replied.
“Thank the heavens you are.”
Danielle breathed in his earthy scent. She held onto his warm muscles and listened to his beating heart. All her anger seemed so trivial when they and everyone else could have died.
She could have lost him, and the thought terrified her more than knowing her father had abandoned her.
It shouldn’t have. This was a monster in the woods who had tried to kill her. A creature who had come into her kingdom and stolen the princess away from her people.
And yet, she didn’t want him dead. The solid weight of his hands at her shoulders were like shields holding in her emotions. He helped her stand without ever lending her a hand.
“Are you all right?” she asked, realizing she’d taken him for granted. He always seemed so large and in control, she hadn’t thought he might get hurt.
His warm chuckle tousled the hair atop her head. “Yes, princess. I’m fine.”
“Good,” she whispered against his shoulder. “I don’t think the others would do so well without you.” It was a veiled attempt at letting him know she wouldn’t like it if he died. Even though she might have said coarse words before the earthquake.
“They’d do just fine without me,” he replied. “But the world would be lesser for it.”
“Arrogant,” she snorted. She appreciated the humor, though. It was needed in a time like this.
She drew herself away from the safety of his arms. Danielle stared around them at the settling dust and the hundreds of Dread coming out of their caverns. Some were bleeding from head wounds, others were holding limp wings.
So many injured. So many people who needed help, and she was standing there hugging their leader.
She shook herself. “We need to help them.”
The Emperor lifted a dark brow. “You will go to my private chambers where you’ll be safe. I’ll help the others.”
“No.” She shook her head and took a step away from him. “I’ll stay and help. It’s my place to be with them.”
“Your place is to remain away from any falling debris. You don’t know the tunnel systems. There’s always an aftershock, and you won’t know if a ceiling is loose.”
&nbs
p; Danielle couldn’t believe what he was saying. He wanted her to go? To leave these people when they needed a leader?
All the anger she’d felt toward him came crashing down on her like the stones had before. “You wanted a princess, Emperor. Now you have to deal with one.”
“You aren’t their princess.”
“Am I not? You came into my father’s court intending to marry me. To the humans, I am yours. I believe that makes me Empress of the Dread, does it not?” She crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her hip out to the side.
He opened and closed his mouth, grasping for words which wouldn’t come.
She’d bested him, yet again, but he didn’t want to admit she had. Why would he? His plan was to squirrel her away somewhere she’d remain safe forever. In the dark, away from his people and any danger.
Danielle’s cheeks burned with anger, and the tips of her ears felt as though they were on fire. “You promised to teach me to fight, and you never did. Now you want to hide me away so I never see the world? I won’t suffer that. You’d be no different from my father.”
He flared his wings wide behind him, and for a moment she thought he would scream at her. They were both interrupted before their fight could explode again.
A Dread she recognized, the Blacksmith, landed hard next to the Emperor. One of his wings had a large tear in the membrane and he was covered in white dust. “Emperor.”
“What is it?” her Dread snapped.
“One of the younglings was outside when the earthquake began, he found this.” Blacksmith handed a small device to the Emperor.
It was a small metal box, something which looked so harmless. Like a jewelry box.
The Emperor turned it over in his hands. Danielle could see the dim blue lights reflecting off the scratch marks on the side. The mark of her family, she realized, and her blood went cold.
“What is this?” the Emperor asked. “I’ve never seen it before.”
“I have,” she whispered. Though the words were soft, they carried through the cavern like a scream. “We use it to clear land when we want to build somewhere the house doesn’t fit. There’s gunpowder in the box. It explodes and destroys stone.”