Page 26 of A Traitor Sister (Remnants of the Fallen Kingdom #2)

26

AZUR

W hat’s sleep? Nothing but a few hours here and there when I drift away from my pool of pain.

She’s beside me, only a thin stone wall between us. If I were a bit more coward, a bit more selfish, I’d get up, knock on her door, and plead forgiveness. I’d tell her I love her, tell her I want to spend every last second I have with her.

But that would be selfish.

I thought having my horns removed was the greatest pain I could ever face, but I was wrong; nothing compares to this. To stay in this room, away from her, to let her go and perhaps never see her again feels like ripping out my heart.

And yet I’ll do it if it keeps her from feeling a fraction of the same pain, if it keeps her from risking her life trying to be near me and all the innumerous dangers surrounding me. If at least one of us can have a happy life, it should be her.

I’m too poisoned, bred with bitterness too deep, never even hoping to escape this prison. The end might be near, but it will be my end too, and I’d never dare bring her with me into this bottomless hole.

Revolving on this empty, cold bed won’t bring me any more rest, so I get up and put on my old leather tunic. The hallway outside is a balcony leading to a reddening sky. Is it also bleeding like my soul? Do I have one, or am I beyond redemption? Why did life grant me such a gift just to tear her away?

I hear steps going up the stairs and reach for my sword—except that there’s nothing in my scabbard. My magic is still gone, and all I have is the dagger Tar gave me.

Coming up the stairs the first thing I see is the lovely hair that frames her beautiful face like mist. Lidiane.

She pauses when she sees me and places a hand over her heart. “It’s you.”

“I thought you were going to stay in the room beside me.”

“I slept there. When I could no longer sleep, I got up. Weren’t you the one who told me to leave as soon as the sun came up? Had I done what you asked, I would be out in the desert at this time, so don’t come and say it’s dangerous.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Great.”

She’s angry. That should be good, and yet it brings me pain instead of relief.

I say, “We’ll leave soon.”

She snorts. “Really? You think they’re about to wake up? They sounded… occupied last night.”

“I’ll wait two hours, then wake them if they sleep too long.”

She rests on the railing and stares at the sky. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? All full of color. Despite everything, a new day is coming. Like life and death.”

“Death was quite close last night.”

“Yes. But it wasn’t our time yet.” She looks at me, then looks at the top of my head. I wonder if she’s trying to imagine what I used to look like, but then she waves a hand, and I feel the tickle of a glamour. Such a familiar glamour, as if it was my own.

I touch my head, even though I know glamours can’t be felt. “What did you do?”

“Gave you a hat, Azur. It should last until noon or so. I could fix the other one if I had the tools, but I don’t. I’m sorry it ripped.”

I shake my head. “I have other hats.”

She has a lovely light chuckle. “A whole collection?”

“A few. Just in case.”

“Well, at least you won’t be hatless on your way to the castle, and once there, you can get back to your collection.”

I take a deep breath. “I thought you were angry at me.”

“I am.”

“And yet you’re giving me a hat glamour?”

“One thing has nothing to do with the other, Azur. We can care about people even when we fight.”

I stare at her. “We didn’t fight. Did we?”

“There needs to be something before the fighting, right? We’re nothing—other than having this strange bond.”

“I’m sorry, Lidiane. Sorry for the pain I brought you.”

She shakes her head. “Your pain is because you only see the bad side of things. You hold on to your fear.”

I look back at the sky. “I do. And it’s why you should stay away from me.”

“Don’t worry. I will.” Her laugh is strangely melodious and cutting at the same time, then she turns to me and frowns, pointing at my vest pocket. “What do you have there?”

I know what she means, but I’m not sure if I want to reveal it to her. “Here?”

“There’s some… magic. Feeble, and yet it’s your magic.”

I don’t think I can hide anything from her, so I pull a piece of old, enchanted parchment.

Her eyes widen. “It was you! You! I can’t believe it.”

“What do you mean?”

“The transcending letter! At the Owl Inn. That’s your part, isn’t it?”

I don’t know why I feel foolish, and yet I’m more curious about her side of the story. “So you know some rebels.”

“What about you? Sending information to them!”

A thrill of terror runs down my spine. If Renel learns about this, I don’t know what could happen. I put a finger over my lips and point back at where my master’s room is. “It was… a test. I never sent anything compromising. And I would never be able to jeopardize Renel’s safety. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“I know! I mean, I’m not sure I understand why you did it, but the information was quite bland. I stole the other side of the letter, Azur, and left them with a replica. I don’t know who you thought you were communicating with, but they claimed to serve the Nether Court. They’re not nice fae.”

Her words shake me, but I try not to show any reaction, and ask, “Have you considered that my plan might have been to set up a trap for them?”

“Obviously. Everyone considered it.” She narrows her bright eyes and stares at me. “But that wasn’t your plan, was it?”

“Fine. I didn’t have a plan. I just… It was a small act of rebellion, of defiance. As if I wanted to prove to myself that I wasn’t completely bound, as if I wanted to…” The truth is that my motivation is cloudy even for me. “I don’t even know, to tell you the truth.”

“Fair.” The look she gives me is far from reassuring, as if she could peer into every corner of my soul, smell every piece of hatred lodged there. “But I stole it, so that I checked the information before passing it on.”

A horrible thought crosses my mind. “To protect Marlak?” She doesn’t deny it, and I feel fury rising up and filling my heart. “What are you to him?”

She sneers. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous. You have no right to be.”

“He has a wife now.”

Lidiane rolls her eyes. “Of course he does. And he’s a friend. And it wasn’t just to protect him that I stole the transcending note. I did it because I could, because those fae in the Owl Inn are obnoxious and don’t even deserve stupid information everyone can easily get. How did you even know there are rebels there?”

“I just left the note. My little act of rebellion.”

She nods. “I understand.” I feel that she truly does, like she can see me for who I am. She continues, “The thing is, I gave the other side of the note to my brother.”

“You have a brother?” I’m not sure why it intrigues me.

“Yes, and you’ll never get any family introduction, since we’re nothing. But can you write to him? Tell him I’m safe and returning home? Just because?—”

“Of course.” I would never deny her something so simple. “But it’s better to avoid names and places, just in case. Notes like these could fall into the wrong hands.”

“I doubt it, but sure.”

I stretch the note and point my finger at it. “What do you want me to say?” Then I realize this is not going to work and shake my head. “I’m sorry. With my magic gone… I can’t.” I feel so useless!

“Makes sense. Sorry for asking you that.”

“At least when my magic returns, I can write to you.” It was supposed to come out as some kind of joke, but it isn’t. The truth of it hits me, the truth that we’ll never be apart.

“Except you won’t, right? Because you want nothing to do with me.”

I almost tell her that it’s not that. I want to explain that I want nothing more than to hold her close, but will it change anything? All it will accomplish is to make our parting even harder. All I do is look away.

“Right.” Her voice has a sarcastic cheerfulness to it. “Well, I’m going down to eat now. Do you want to come, or would you rather starve?”

“I ate last night. I’m far from starving. I’ll…” I wanted to say be fine , but I can’t voice the lie. “Stay here.”

“Whatever suits you. I’ll find something downstairs.”

I hear her steps retreating then turn to see her head disappearing in the stairs. The distance hurts.

People talk about a bond like a pull, and it sounds pleasant, but nobody mentions the pain of resisting the pull.

There’s too much darkness ahead of me. Darkness that shall never touch her.

And now I don’t even know what to do with this transcending note; if I should burn or relish it, a reminder of what will never be, but also a constant temptation to contact her.

I fold it and put it back in my pocket, telling myself that if I can ever use it to warn her against some danger, it will be worth keeping it.

MARLAK

M y dreams were weird tonight.

Strange, dense forests, then Astra calling my name as I called hers. I also saw my brother wielding a sword like a grandmaster, keeping a horde of monsters at bay. That was definitely the strangest part.

Hopefully my nights will go back to my old, happy dreams when I return home.

I melt some ice from the top of the tent just to check if there’s sunlight yet, and faint rays peer through the canvas.

Beside me, Ziven stirs. “Hey.” His voice is slurred. “I guess it’s time.”

“Yes.”

I recall my anger last night, my anxiety, then recall the moment I approached that strange lake, the feeling of having my magic gone, the feeling that something was wrong.

“Maybe you were right,” I say, even if it takes all my strength to admit it.

“You’re worried about your sister. Feelings muddle our logic.” He smiles. “But we’ll rescue her now.”

He picks up his shirt and puts it on. I can’t believe he slept without it, not that it’s that cold, but I wouldn’t sleep half undressed by a stranger.

I use my water magic to push the ice away from the tent. More sunlight comes through, and I pack my things and go outside. Ziven leaves the tent right after me, and I fold it and put it in my bag.

As much as I’m eager to see my sister, the memory of that lake revolves in my stomach.

I turn to the human prince. “You know it’s going to be dangerous, right?”

“Most likely. I’ll be alert.”

We approach the cliff carefully. I decide to climb it down without any air magic. Last night I climbed too, even if a few times I thought I was about to fall. It was some strange compulsion to go see my sister right away. An understandable compulsion, when I consider that she had to spend the night in that dreadful place.

We approach the lake, and even though I can sense the water, something’s wrong.

I turn to the prince. “Do you feel your magic weakening?”

His eyebrows contract. “I’m not sure if it’s my magic or if it’s this water.” He then creates a ball of ice. “I can condense some of the steam, though. Can’t you?”

“I’d rather not even try. Not yet. I can’t grasp the water like usual. Nevermind the air. I still feel it, though.”

The prince nods. “We still have swords.”

“Yes,” I mutter.

Swords can do very little against certain types of magic. I’m sure he knows it, and I don’t need to mention the precarious situation we might encounter.

We edge the lake until he stops and looks at me. “Can you see it?”

There’s nothing, not even some haze, some blur in the landscape, just the mist from the vapor of the lake water. “I see nothing at all.”

He presses his hand over something, and then, slowly, a metal gate appears in front of me—just the gate. In the middle, where there should be a lock, there’s a plaque—a familiar plaque. It has an engraving with a heart, a teardrop, or a drop of blood, and an eye. The eye makes a lot of sense now, since whatever magic’s in here controls who’s able to see it.

Ziven’s hand touches the bottom of the plaque.

“I see the gate now,” I say.

“Do you know how to open it?”

“Blood, I suppose. It’s what the drawing is saying, isn’t it?”

He grimaces. “If I were to follow the drawing, I’d need to cut my eye.”

I lend him a dagger. “Just make a small puncture on your thumb, then press it on the plaque.”

“Phew.” He chuckles. “I thought you were going to ask me to poke my eye. Let’s hope it works, even if they didn’t draw a thumb.”

“It’s the blood that matters.”

Stupid blood that can determine so much.

He pierces his skin with the tip of the blade, then presses his bloody finger on the drawing of the eye.

A rush of power stirs around us. The gate vibrates and opens, the sound of its hinges loud like a roar. I finally see a wooden bridge, closed off on top and with small, high windows on the sides.

“Here we go,” he says. This time, there’s no mistaking the hesitation and trembling in his voice.

I don’t want to force him to go in there. “You opened the gate. You can wait for me here.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t think it will let you go through without me. And I’m here to help you. Believe it or not, I’m not a coward.”

“I’m not saying that. It’s just… It’s my sister, right? Not yours.”

“We don’t know what’s on that island, Marlak. We need to be ready for the worst.” He takes a step. “Let’s go.”

Worst. I’m not ready for the worst, nor do I want to imagine it, but I step onto the bridge.

The wood boards creek as we walk. Beneath them, I see a metal base blocking the steam from the hot lake—I suppose otherwise we’d be cooked here. It’s still quite warm, but not enough to hurt or kill us.

The bridge is a lot more solid than I expected—and somehow longer as well. I still can’t see any island, and I’m wondering about the type of magic used to create—and maintain—this place.

We walk some more and reach another gate, identical to the first one, with vertical bars and a plaque in the middle. Ziven presses his slightly bloody thumb on the drawing of the eye, and the gate moves.

I finally see an island with some trees, bushes, flowers, and, in the middle, a black tower, made of a stone so smooth that it reflects part of the sky.

Blue tower—I see.

The tower reaches up into the sky like the curved spine of some animal. At its bottom, stands a humongous metal door.

“The bridge’s gone,” Ziven mutters.

I look back and indeed don’t see it, but that’s expected. “Even for you?”

He nods.

I swallow, a taste of ash in my mouth. “We’ll figure it out later.”

My hope is that it just turned invisible, but that we can still use it to escape this place.

A stench of decay reaches my nostrils and I soon identify its source: a seagull’s carcass, similar to the ones we saw outside. This is a good sign; something’s flying in and out. I don’t mention that to the human prince, preferring to keep our silence and remain attentive to our surroundings.

The more we step onto the island, the more I feel my magic returning. I can sense my connection to the humidity around me and even the air.

I was going to pull my sword, but I’d rather use my magic if something happens.

We finally reach the steps leading to the humongous door, and I pause, taking in the enormity of the task ahead of me.

Will my sister be there? Will she be alive? It’s so hard to even fathom what so many years in a place like this could do to a person.

Before we climb the stairs, the door opens, and Mirella steps out.

Mirella.

Alive, well, healthy.

My sister.

My heart leaps with joy and I finally exhale all the anxiety bottled up in my chest for years.

She looks the same. Older, yes, but the same Mirella, with black hair and blue eyes. She’s even wearing a pretty tiara.

“Marlak!” She stares at me, eyes wide, an emotional laughter coming from her mouth. “You came!”

The next thing I know is that she has her arms around me, and I’m hugging my sister again. After all these years, we’re reunited.

It’s the end of a long nightmare.

“Aw!” she yells, as I feel a jet of water on my back.

A dagger falls behind me, and she rushes towards Ziven, but he locks her feet in place with ice.

“Filthy human!” she hurls, her face contracted in hatred.

Ziven raises his arms. “She was about to stab you.”

It takes me a few seconds to understand what happened, to grasp the truth of what Ziven prevented. Perhaps I should have predicted this.

I turn to her. “Mirella, it’s me. And he’s here to help. I’m not an impostor or a hallucination. It’s me.”

She blinks as if coming out of a daze, then looks at me and touches the burned side of my head, horror in her eyes. “What happened?”

Shame fills my heart, and I look down. “You know what happened.”

“Marlak,” she mutters, so much sorrow and pity in her voice that it constricts my heart. She then blinks and looks confused again, and asks, “What are you here for?”

“To rescue you. Get you out of here.”

“I like it here.” Her smile is friendly, happy, innocent even.

While it’s great to see she’s not suffering, I fear she might not be in a good mental state.

“Do you want to live here forever?” I ask cautiously.

I understand attachment, fear of change. She might not be ready to leave her prison.

“I just want to sleep.” She moves her feet, trying to free them from the the ice locking it in place.

“Don’t attack us,” I say.

She shakes her head. “I just want to sleep. I was going to bed when I heard visitors. I never get visitors.”

“Are you alone here?”

She nods. “They all died. All of them. Let me go,” she pleads. “I need to sleep.”

“Promise not to attack us.” It pains me to say that, to treat her like a threat, but I need to be careful.

“I’m going to sleep now.” She shows her empty hands. “No weapon. No magic. We can talk later. I like visitors. Good visitors, not the nasty ones.”

“Who did you have as visitors? Did anyone bring any supplies?”

She shakes her head then wiggles her body again and manages to free her feet. Before I can say anything, she rushes up the stairs and closes the door. In normal circumstances, I would have followed her, but this time, I didn’t want to startle her.

A feeling of powerlessness overcomes me. I don’t know what happened to her in the last years and I’m not sure how I can convince her to leave this place—unless she’s truly happy. That should be a relief, I suppose.

I stare at Ziven, wondering what he’s thinking.

He gives me a tight smile. “She’s alive and looks healthy. The rest can be fixed.”

“Yes.” Hopefully.

We climb the steps, but there’s no handle to open the door from the outside, nor can it be pushed inward. I’m considering opening it with air or water magic when Ziven suggests looking for another entrance.

We walk around the tower, coming across another carcass, this one much older and no longer fetid.

“None of these birds are from here,” Ziven says, echoing what I thought before. “Or even from the surrounding area. Something’s flying in and out.”

“Which is good news.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Or bad, depending on what it is.”

“It eats birds . I don’t think it will confuse us with a bird. And it hasn’t hurt her.”

Ziven doesn’t look convinced. “With magical laws in place, anything is possible, but you’re right that we’re no birds. Now, if she gets visitors, someone has come in—and has left .”

Someone has come in. Of course. Someone even threatened to bring me here.

“I’m thinking it might have been Azur, my brother’s guardian. First, he has an unnatural ability to transcend. I’ve never seen anything like that, or even heard about it, in fact. Second, when I was captured, they considered bringing me here. So he can come here.” I sigh. “I’d rather not wait for his visit, though.”

“No. I don’t want to spend months here.” His tone is playful, but there’s a hint of fear in his words.

A fear I share. I have to go home soon; Astra’s waiting for me.

On the back of the tower, we find a door. This one is open ajar, full of dried leaves, dirt, twigs, and all kinds of things that wind and rain could have blown through such a passage.

We step into it to find a room with tables and counters, all of them covered with dirt, dust, and leaves. Huge spider webs cover every corner. Against a wall, there are two piles of jute bags. Flour—enough for ten people for a year, I suppose. And yet untouched.

“Marlak,” Ziven mutters, his voice shaking.

I turn and find him pointing to a corner. Instead of the expected spider or other animal, I see two skeletons, both wearing scraps of red clothes that might have been uniforms.

I recall my sister’s words. “She said they died. I suppose that’s who she meant.”

“There could be more.” Ziven tilts his head and looks at the corpses. “Why would they die in the kitchen? You know, not on a bed or something?”

A chill fills my stomach. “It could be a fast-acting poison, or else they were attacked.”

Ziven approaches one of the bodies. “The clothes are ripped.”

“They were exposed to the elements. But they could have been attacked, yes.”

“It’s clear why she doesn’t use the kitchen.”

“This place can kill anyone’s appetite.”

Ziven turns to me. “But why wouldn’t she move the bodies? Bury them?”

I swallow. “She was born a king’s daughter. I got along well with her. We practiced magic together, challenged each other. I like her as a sister, but—” I don’t even know how to explain it.

“You think she would be too shocked to touch a dead body.”

“Yes. Shocked, yes.” The word that had been crossing my mind was spoiled , but it’s hard to say that about someone who had to live years on this cursed island.

Ziven glances at the flour. “She didn’t even pick up any supplies, by the looks of it.”

“Perhaps she did, and not everything is here.”

“I’ll check if there’s anything outside.”

I’m not sure if it’s a fruitful course of action, but follow him. Indeed we see wooden barrels and boxes by the outer wall.

He turns one of the barrels’ taps, puts a finger under it, then smells it. “Water,” he says.

“I’m glad you didn’t taste it, considering the possibility of poison.”

“Had I been an idiot, I wouldn’t be alive.”

“Didn’t you say you saved your life by pretending to be an idiot? What if part of it was your own personality?”

“Who knows, right?” He chuckles.

I need some levity, need to relax instead of wondering what happened in this place.

I say, “Let’s check the rest of the tower, then I’ll come down and bury the workers.”

“I’ll help you,” he offers.

Beside the kitchen, there’s another room with a large, broken table and chairs, as well as a fallen chandelier. Shattered glass from a large window covers the floor.

Ziven looks around, then smiles at me. “I’m sure the rest of the tower isn’t all like this. I mean, she doesn’t want to leave, so I’m sure there must be some cozy, comfy part we haven’t seen.”

The dining room’s door leads to a huge hall where statues and furniture lie broken. We’re on the other side of the humongous entrance door from where my sister greeted us, at the base of spiral stairs that climb to the top of the tower.

“You know,” he says. “I’m quite disorganized myself, so I can relate.”

He’s trying to make me feel better, and yet, if any of this was normal, there would be no need to say anything. Still, I chuckle.

He continues, “I tell myself to clean it later, and later. And it’s never later, you know? I’m sure that’s what’s happening here.”

“Or else she expects someone else to clean it.” That’s the most likely explanation.

“We can help her arrange it a little.”

“We’ll look for an exit first.”

“Yes, that. But in case?—”

“No case. We’re leaving this place soon.” I don’t want to consider any alternative.

“What if she truly wants to stay?” Ziven asks.

“Of course she doesn’t, despite whatever nonsense she might tell herself.”

We climb the stairs to find broken furniture, broken windows, and spiderwebs everywhere, with no sign that a person has been living here. We see no other kitchen or any place where Mirella might have prepared food, and no food, in fact.

Another skeleton lies in the hallway on the third floor, this one also with ripped clothes. I feel bad for the servants who were likely sent here to help her. Or were these her visitors? I’m not sure.

There are a few bedrooms. Some of them have just a wooden bed and what used to be a hay mattress, while some of them show signs of nicer beds and covers. We don’t even find her room—or her.

“She could be outside,” Ziven says. “We can look for a shack or something.”

As much as I appreciate his optimism, I know it’s unrealistic. “There would be a trail leading to the back door.”

“There could be another door. Or else she hides somewhere to sleep. It could explain why she survived for so long.”

My chest is tight with worry. In a way, I should be relieved to see her so healthy, but it’s hard to understand what’s happening here and hard to digest the fact that she’s been living in a filthy tower unfit for anyone to live in.

Ziven stares at me. “What do you want to do now? Keep looking for her? Try to find a way out? Bury the bodies?”

His question reaches my mind but finds only emptiness there. What do I want to do? What can I do?

He takes my silence as an invitation to keep talking. “She said she was going to sleep, so that’s what she’s doing, right? Just because we haven’t found her, it doesn’t mean she isn’t comfy somewhere, resting, like she said she would .” He stares at me as he emphasizes the last words. “When she wakes, we’ll talk to her. Meanwhile, let’s look for a way out and give the bodies a decent resting place.”

“You’re right.” I’m so dazed, so stunned. I can’t even believe that the irksome human prince is the one talking sense to me.

We descend the stairs, then he tries to find the bridge again, walking in the area where it was last time, and then around the island.

“It’s gone, Marlak. Unless it shows up again at a specific time or something. I can watch it.”

His theory is quite unlikely. “But it was there all the time, wasn’t it? Since last night. It disappeared after we crossed it.”

“Yes.”

“So it doesn’t have to do with the time of the day, but our location.”

“Perhaps it might still be visible from the other side. Who knows? Perhaps another person with king’s blood will stroll by.” He stares at the lake. “What about air magic? Can’t you float across the lake?”

“If I could float across, we would be able to create an ice bridge. Something in this lake blocks our magic.”

“What if you floated really high? Truly high. Far from the lake?”

The idea is quite disturbing. All I can picture is a fall right into the weird, hot water. “My air magic is not… I can’t sustain myself well mid-air.”

“What if we had some kind of rope, hook? Something to connect with the cliff on the other side?”

I narrow my eyes. “Maybe.”

We return to the kitchen and the tower, then bring the bodies outside. There are gardening tools and the remains of what must have been a vegetable garden many years ago, and we find a plot of soft soil to bury the remains.

Ziven doesn’t complain about any of the work or about being on this island. If he keeps acting like that, I might have to admit he’s a decent company and not a hurdle. I’m not ready for that yet, though. And I’m too worried about our precarious situation.

When we finish the burial, I decide to touch on a matter that I’m sure has been in his mind.

“The carcasses,” I mutter.

He grimaces. “You want to bury them?”

“No.” I don’t know how I manage to chuckle. “But I was thinking something. Why is whatever killing the birds coming here? Bringing seagulls all the way from the ocean?”

“Maybe it’s warm and cozy? It’s a bird-eating monster sauna?”

“True. I hope it’s not a monster, though.”

He gives me a playful smile. “Didn’t you say it won’t confuse us with birds? Not sure about you, but I have no feathers.”

He’s right that I dismissed his worries earlier, but that was before seeing the bodies. He saw them too, and I’m sure the idea has crossed his mind, even if he’s being flippant now, likely just to contradict me.

“We haven’t seen it yet,” I say. “We need to be on the lookout; it might show us how to escape this island.”

“We’ll watch.” His nod is as shaky as his voice.

Other than that, too many questions burden my mind.

Where’s Mirella? What’s happening to her?

And most importantly, how are we going to leave this dreadful place?