Page 33 of A Traitor Sister (Remnants of the Fallen Kingdom #2)

33

ASTRA

I ’m not sure if this is a scene from a dream or a nightmare. Hundreds of ghouls surround me and Ferer, all kneeling.

They want to help me.

I don’t know if my idea will work, but I decide to give it a try, and ask, “Can you lead me to the Amethyst Palace?”

My voice sounds firm, certain, and I’m glad I was able to bury my fears. Still, can these creatures know the location of the place of my dreams?

Ahead of me, the ghouls step aside, opening a path. I step onto the path they’re opening. Two ghouls step ahead of us, and we follow them until we leave the large group behind. We enter the forest through a path wide enough for a person to walk through. Eventually, after about an hour, they stop and step aside. We’re in the midst of the forest, and all I see are vine-covered trees ahead of me.

All I see , and yet that’s not necessarily true. I take a step, my hand reaching forward, and it touches something cold—some metal like copper or brass. Slowly, a humongous door appears in front of me. Just the door, nothing else. On it, a plaque has a sign with a heart, an eye, and a drop of blood. I hope they’re not expecting any royalty here, and that being Tiurian would be enough. It has to be, if I’ve been seeing this palace, sensing it calling me. I poke the tip of my thumb with my dagger, then rub it onto the drawing of the eye. Ferer observes me in silence.

The ground trembles when the door screeches and moves back to give us passage. Ferer and I enter it, and then the door shuts. He ignites a lightstone and I see that we’re in an immense hall. Thankfully, none of the ghouls came in. As helpful as they were, their proximity peeved me. I take a look at the place, and my stomach feels tight and cold.

This is a place from nightmares, not dreams.

The walls might have been white some time ago, but now a thick, black liquid seeps from the impossibly high ceiling, while thick, dark vines cover the ground. Strange vines that almost look like veins of some sort.

“Is this it?” Ferer asks.

My breath falters, wondering if this is a trap, wondering if the ghouls led us to some cursed place, but then I look at the white marble of the floor again. It’s the same marble I’ve stepped on when getting up at night to meet my husband on the balcony. The balcony was much higher though, probably above this floor. Just because I’ve never been in this hall, it doesn’t mean this isn’t the right place, and I have to consider that it has been abandoned for a long time.

“I think so,” I whisper. It’s odd that I fear what could be hiding here. Maybe not odd. I have had dreams about something dangerous lurking in this place. “But stay alert.”

“No kidding.”

I look around for some stairs, something. We need to reach a higher floor, and yet I don’t see any way to get there. If anything, this looks like the interior of a hollow tower.

Ferer points to a wall. “I think there’s a door there.”

Behind vines, covered with that strange black liquid, indeed there’s a door that once must have been white. He goes ahead of me, avoiding the vines, and pushes it just enough for us to walk through, so that we reach another hall. There’s no furniture, just vines and vines and that awful liquid. The ceiling here is high, but not as much as in the previous room. On the back, I finally see what looks like a staircase, even if it’s so dirty that it’s barely recognizable as such.

“We need to go up,” I whisper.

“I’ll go first.” Ferer steps ahead of me.

This is wrong. If this is my castle, from my dreams, I’m the one who needs to lead.

“I’ll go.” I hold his arm and smile at him. “That way, if I fall, you catch me.”

He nods.

The handrail is slimy and disgusting, while the steps are slippery and have those awful vines on them. I’m starting to think there’s a high chance I might fall, and yet I keep climbing, even if much slower and more carefully than I’d like, as the urgency in reaching this place hasn’t faded; it has only grown stronger, and yet whatever it is I have to reach, it’s upstairs. We climb and climb, passing by empty, dirty rooms, until the staircase reaches an end.

My heart is fidgety in my restless chest as we move through an open, empty room, the floor covered in dark vines. An open door leads to a room above the entrance hall.

I hold a dagger, just in case, and step carefully. There are no sounds, not even wind from outside, just my steps and my breath, as I can’t be silent like Ferer. This new room has a glass floor. In its middle lies a round table with a black thing over it. Beside it, there’s a crystal arrangement, somewhat like what I saw on the ceiling of the sanctuary, except that the crystals are black.

“Do you think it’s safe?” I ask Ferer and point at the floor.

“Yes, but who knows? I’ll make a layer of ice.”

Icicles form on the walls, then slowly cover the floor above the vines.

He adds, “Careful because it might be slippery.”

I step slowly over the new floor Ferer created, and then realize that thick vines lead to the black thing over the table. As our light gets closer to it, I realize it looks like a human heart—but black. I feel compelled to touch it, even if the idea seems disgusting to my rational mind. Or should I touch the crystals?

With my eyes closed, I think about the Almighty Mother, about my light.

An idea comes to my mind, sharp and clear; I should touch both. I step between the heart and the crystal arrangement, spread my arms, then place my palms on the heart and the crystals.

The crystals turn red and illuminate the room, while the heart pulses as if returning to life.

And then I’m far away, in a different building, fast asleep on an uncomfortable, dusty bed, while something moves in my direction. Ziven is sitting nearby in an armchair, his eyes almost closing. This is Marlak. Marlak, in danger.

The scene changes, and I’m looking at him asleep on calm, green fields—and yet there’s something coming, some creature, some monster.

I touch my husband’s face. “Marlak. Wake up.”

He holds my hand and smiles at me.

“Wake up, husband, wake up.”

The thing is getting closer and closer, and my heart is speeding up. Marlak is still smiling at me, the fool.

Then I scream at the top of my lungs. “Now!”

MARLAK

A fter all these years, I found my sister—only to lose her again. I called, looked, and found nothing.

Ziven and I picked a room with a functioning lock and an unbroken glass window. Despite the dust, we were able to clear two beds that were decently clean under the covers.

I keep sneezing and almost change my mind and decide to sleep in the tent, but if there’s something out there, we need to be careful.

Of course, we don’t look like birds, and we’re much bigger than them, so perhaps our fear makes no sense. Still, I can feel something eerie, strange, something lurking, even if we haven’t yet seen or heard anything. It’s possible we’re being paranoid. I truly hope that’s the case.

From the window, I can see the cliff and the stars outside. I’m wondering if we could stretch something over the lake, perhaps some sheets or curtains tied together. The issue would be to get it to the other side.

A screech makes me turn.

Ziven raises his hands. “It’s me. I was pushing this drawer chest. To block the door.”

I pause. What if my sister needs me? What if she wakes up and wants to talk to me? The fear wins.

“Let me help you.” I approach him and help him push the piece of furniture, blocking the door. Blocking my sister’s way.

“If she calls, we can move it,” he says, as if he could sense my thoughts. Then again, I’m sure my feelings are quite obvious.

“Sure.”

“Should we take turns keeping watch?”

Should we? I take a deep breath. “The door is locked, the window is closed.” Still, I have that feeling… “I don’t know.”

“Get some rest. I’ll wake you up in a few hours.”

“Aren’t you tired?”

Ziven shakes his head. “A heavy heart is a heavy weight. It can exhaust us. You’re more tired than I am. Tomorrow we’ll find her sleeping spot. It could be inside a wardrobe or under a bed. We’ll do a better search. And we’ll figure out a way to leave this place.”

I almost make a comment about his unrealistic optimism, but stop myself. I should be glad he’s neither moping nor complaining.

Instead of some jab, I say, “Thank you.”

“We’ll sort it all out. Now rest. We have a long day tomorrow.”

No. I have to say something. “When did you get all wise? Did something hit your head?”

He laughs. “Trust me. I’m far from wise. Now sleep. In a few hours, it’s going to be my turn, and you’d better be ready to keep watch.”

My heart is so tormented that I’m not ready for anything, not even sleep, and yet I understand the wisdom in his words, his suggestion that I’m more tired than he is, that my worry is a weight dragging me down.

I try to remember Mirella as a little girl, the two of us learning magic with her father, sometimes challenging each other. Most of the air magic I know I learned with her. Air used to strike me as a rather feeble, almost useless type of magic, but it’s not. Not only can you bring down walls, it’s extremely efficient against enemies, as it can disable them quickly. I was so foolish then, felt so powerful with my fire magic.

The memory makes me shiver despite the heat and humidity of this place. But the stupid ten-year-old me thought I was some incredible prodigy with magic more powerful than most adults and fire magic never seen in years and years.

A few rare fae can wield fire, but not like me. I could burn an entire orchard if I wanted. I could set a building on fire, even if its walls weren’t flammable. Why that magic brought me pride is something that puzzles me now. Was it because the king treated me as someone so special? Because everything changed when my magic emerged?

These thoughts make me nauseous and I’m glad I’m no longer that person.

Instead of our youth, I remember Mirella this morning, relieved to see me, relieved to know that I cared. I can hold on to that image and picture the three of us leaving this place. We will find a way, and we have friends out there—and Astra, with magic as mysterious as it’s powerful.

But I’d rather not get her involved in any of this. I hope she’s safe in the island hideout. I miss our home so much. I miss my wife and her kisses, her smiles, even her cutting words.

Rest, Marlak . I imagine her sweet voice in my ear. We’ll meet again soon .

Of course we will. That is the thought that soothes my heart and carries me through the threshold of sleep.

W e’re in our castle, on the balcony overlooking that forest, and I hold Astra as tight as I can, cherishing this moment, delighting in her presence, her scent, her comfort.

Her lovely eyes are worried when she turns to me. “You’re in danger, Marlak. You need to wake up.”

I kiss her forehead. “No. You won’t be there when I wake up. Every second without you is torture, Azalee. Don’t make me leave you yet.”

“Wake up, husband. Wake up.” Her voice is kind, soft, and all it does is make me want to spend forever here, holding her.

“I will. Soon.”

She steps away from me. “Now!” Her yell rings in my ear and speeds my heart.

I sit up, startled, and find myself in that dreadful dusty room in the Blue Tower.

Ziven is sitting on a chair. “Want to take watch?” His voice is slurred with tiredness.

There are no strange sounds, no threats. “Is there something wrong?”

“Hmm. Do you want a list?”

At least he makes me laugh. I should be crying, though.

Next time I meet dream Astra, I’m going to have some words with her. How dare she interrupt such a lovely dream?

“How long have I slept?”

“Feels like a couple hours, but I could be wrong.”

My heart is still beating fast while my entire body’s on alert, startled. I’m even wondering if we’re exaggerating by keeping watch, considering the room is locked. If we find out it’s safe, tomorrow we can both sleep through the night.

Tomorrow. What a depressing thought. And then, we might have tons of tomorrows. Even more depressing.

I stare out the window, where a waning moon illuminates the landscape. Then, it disappears—too fast to have been clouds. Even though I’m curious to find out what creature is flying toward us, I retreat to the back of the room, away from the window—and not too soon.

A second later, glass and wood shatter everywhere and huge, jagged pieces fly in our direction, but I manage to blow them back.

Through the broken window comes the ugliest animal I’ve ever seen. It looks like a gigantic, almost featherless raven with a silver, sharp beak, so huge that it could certainly behead either of us, and claws long and sharp like daggers.

It advances in silence, beak wide open, and I manage to use my air magic to throw a pointy shard to its throat.

Except it never reaches it. A burst of water moves the shard, and then ice locks the bird’s feet in place.

Ziven stares at me, eyes wide.

I don’t understand what he’s doing. “Why did you block my strike?”

“You said your brother was a monster, right?”

Is this the right time to bring it up? “Yes, and?”

“Wrong sibling, Marlak.”

TARLIA

I sit on the rough ground, leaning back on my elbows, while Lidiane pours river water on my head. We applied lemon, let it sit for half an hour, and then she insisted on applying her herbal mix with thyme and basil. All the while I was nibbling some rock-hard bread, which she claimed was the only thing she found.

“What if it doesn’t work?” This is a pessimistic question, for sure, but we need to plan for that. “Maybe we could split up, so if Otavio finds me, it’s only me.”

“I’m not that confident that you can find your way on fae lands by yourself, Tarlia.”

“You could go on your own to the castle.” The idea makes sense, and yet it stings. I wanted to see Renel again—and maybe that’s why I shouldn’t go.

She huffs. “It will be fast, and I’ll use a glamour on us so we aren’t noticed. It was different when we came from the Shadow Lands. I wasn’t alert at the time. Now I am. I’ll keep you safe.”

“That’s very kind. You could have just dumped me.”

“No. Being selfish sounds smart, but it’s not. We all need friends. Who knows, tomorrow you might help me.”

“So far, I haven’t helped a single fae.”

“You fought well against the ghouls. That’s helpful. Maybe that’s what made Renel so obsessed.”

“I doubt he had never seen a woman fighting before. And if Renel is interested in me, it’s probably because of whatever Otavio did.” I’m so silly that the idea that he fell for some trick still hurts me.

“I don’t think so. I would notice something unnatural on you, and I didn’t. Your master was probably lying to make you think you depend on him.”

“If his plan was to convince me I needed him, why didn’t he open that cage?”

“He gave me the impression of someone still thinking, still calculating, not yet sure what to do. I bet he wasn’t expecting Astra to disappear—or to be replaced.”

“I’m glad she’s far from him. After we leave the castle, are we going to meet her?”

“We can go back to my house and wait for Nelsin or Ferer to come and see us. She’s in a secret location.”

“Secret even from you?”

“Yes. Rude, right?” She giggles. “No. Fae do that sometimes. It’s better to keep some of us in the dark for our safety. We can’t lie and sometimes we can be compelled to speak, so sometimes ignorance is the best strategy.”

“It makes sense. If Otavio decided to torture me, for example, to give him Astra’s location, it wouldn’t work.” I exhale. “I’m glad he didn’t try. And I think you’re right. He was still considering his options.” I look back and glance at her. “Speaking of options… Aren’t you worried about seeing Azur again?”

“I’ll let him know I’m safe and that I’ll hide, and tell him not to worry about me.”

“Will you worry about him?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I keep asking myself why. Why should I be bonded to him?”

“Maybe there’s a way to break the bond.”

She’s dropping more water on my hair, but then pauses. “I don’t want to break it.”

“I thought you didn’t like it.”

“I don’t understand it. It’s not that I hate it. Why him? Why now? Is he really going to die soon? And yet, strangely, I still cherish the bond, cherish having something so special with someone, even if our ways have to part.”

I turn around to face her. “I’m sorry.”

“No sorrow. A glimpse of joy is better than no joy.”

“Long-lasting joy is better than a glimpse.”

“I choose to appreciate what I have.” Her smile is laughter and life, then she gets serious again. “We’d better go. I think we undid whatever your master used to locate you. Ready?”

“Yes.”

I’m glad I can lie.

The thought of going to the castle turns my insides into yarn. I imagine Renel seeing me without Otavio’s tricks, then rejecting me. If I never saw him again, I could carry on with the sweet illusion that whatever we had was true, that someone, once, liked me enough.

At least the farce will be over, and then Otavio won’t be able to manipulate him anymore.

She nods, then adds, “My glamour should protect us even if Zorwal has survived.”

“You still think he did?”

“I can’t sense anything out of the ordinary happening to Azur, so if he survived, he hasn’t shown up yet.”

“Perhaps he’ll remain hidden—or dead.”

“It’s what I hope.”