Let the story unfold. You’ll be happy again before it ends.

The words played, over and over, in Mara’s mind, like distant thunder.

Let the story unfold. You’ll be happy again before it ends.

Let the story unfold. You’ll be happy again…

You’ll be happy again…

You’ll be happy…

They rumbled in the background while she sat on the bed in her tiny room, the warmth of Eli’s healing magic suffusing her blood and taking the pain from her shoulder, and when she surrendered Nick to Eli’s care with the remembered promise of Beth’s assertion that she could trust him. They nagged when she whispered her shameful confession, that she hadn’t told her son that his father was dead and to please, please not shatter the illusion. They followed her afterward into a deep and otherwise dreamless sleep. They mocked her when she woke alone, nothing but flickering lamplight to keep her company. They loomed over her when Eli and Nick came to fetch her for dinner. They drowned out the hum of the massive dining hall where they ate, squirreled away on a bench in the corner. They distracted her as an unsmiling old woman in a crisp white robe led them through the impressive main hall and down a smaller offshoot into a storeroom, where she moved aside several crates and shelves to reveal a small doorway that opened onto a steep descending staircase that yawned pitch black beneath them.

It was Nick’s plaintive voice, his hand tugging at her shirt as they stood at the top of the stairs, that finally drew her fully back to reality. “Mama?”

She shook herself and smiled down at him. “What an adventure!” she said brightly, crouching and squeezing his shoulders. “Aren’t you excited, Nick?”

“No,” he whimpered, stepping into her and burying his face in her chest.

“I’ll be right here with you, my love,” she crooned, rubbing her hand up and down his back. “It’ll be fun, you’ll see.”

“No!” he said more emphatically, clinging to her tighter.

Mara looked up at Eli, who watched the exchange with solemn neutrality.

“Only this once,” she said quietly. “And no sleep this time, just calm.”

He nodded once and crouched at her side.

“Hey, Nicky.”

Nick sniffed and turned his face against Mara’s chest so he could see Eli without leaving the safety of her hold. Bitter guilt coated the back of her tongue. But what was the alternative? That they descend the staircase wrestling with a writhing, terrified child?

Eli lifted a hand and swiped a tear from Nick’s cheek with his thumb. “We’re going to go on an adventure,” he said, voice a low, hypnotic hum. The magic wasn’t directed at her, but she could feel it nonetheless, a boozy buzz in her veins. “Your mama and I are gonna take good care of you, I promise. You just need to stay calm for us, okay?”

Mara felt the tension leave Nick’s body, and he nodded, relaxing his grip on her clothing.

“I’m going to carry you for this first bit,” Eli said. “Once we get to the bottom of the stairs, you can walk, okay?”

Another listless nod. Mara felt sick. Her hands twitched, and visions of shoving Eli backwards down the stairs taunted her. She’d watch him fall into the darkness and then slam the door on all of him. His news about Davy, his terrifying plan, his insidious magic, Beth’s assertive promise of his loyalty. She clenched her fists as Nick stepped away from her. Eli tugged him close and rose from his crouch, hiking her son onto his hip.

“Thank you, Sister Eve,” he said to the woman in white, and she nodded without expression.

“You can’t get lost,” she said. “The tunnels only have one exit. But it’s narrow in the middle. You’ll have to crawl for a time. And the journey isn’t short. It took Sister Plya twelve hours, and she is very quick on her feet.”

Mara’s hands and feet went cold, her skin prickling. Eli hadn’t shared that detail with her. Just that there was a tunnel that would take them safely from the city. She’d imagined something as well-constructed as the rest of the Hive, with tiled walls perhaps and brass sconces holding oil lamps to light the way. She’d imagined they’d spend a few hours underground at most.

Before she could generate a coherent protest, Eli was descending with her child, and she had no choice but to follow. She pulled the crystal flask Eli had brought her before dinner from her pocket, mumbling the incantation he’d said would bring it to life. In her palm, the liquid within the flask glowed blue-white like the moon, illuminating the rough-hewn stone staircase. In another life–one where Davy lived and her brain was free to ruminate and wonder–she’d be fascinated by the complexity of magic contained within the small flask. Harnessing light was a high, nigh-unattainable level of physiking. A level unseen in the Provinces in centuries.

“Safe travels,” Sister Eve said, punctuating the innocuous farewell by swinging the door shut. Mara shuddered as the bar dropped into place behind them.

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There were no handrails, and as they began their descent, her mind assailed her with images of Eli falling, tumbling down the endless steps with her son, of her finding them at the distant landing, however many miles below, Nick’s tiny body crushed and bloody. Lifeless.

“Where would you like me to hold the light?” she asked Eli, not wanting to hold it at the wrong angle and cast confusing shadows that might trip him up and cause him to fall with her child in his arms.

“I’ll take it.” He reached a hand back and she passed it over to him, and the darkness behind her tickled the back of her neck. “Can you still see alright?”

“Yes.” She couldn’t find the air to say more. She wanted to turn back and hammer on the door, beg Sister Eve to let her back in. But Eli had her son, and he was walking down the stairs. Therefore, so would she.

The steps, though carved from stone, were relatively even, and their descent took on a hypnotic rhythm. She trailed one hand along the wall, the smooth stone growing cooler against her fingertips as they plunged deeper underground, the walls pressing closer, the ceiling dipping lower.

The darkness below them swallowed up the sound of their footsteps, their breathing, no echoes reverberating back. Mara felt her tether to the earth begin to fray, ironic considering she was climbing down the earth’s throat, plunging into its belly. But she felt unreal, flimsy, her senses numb from the monotony. Perhaps she’d have been alright if her mind had been more active, but even that was caught in a loop. Her husband was dead. Her home was in cinders. Her life was a shambles. Her husband was dead. Shadows on stone, footsteps, fear. Her husband was dead.

You’ll be happy again before the end.

“How is your shoulder, Mara?”

Eli’s voice was crisp without its echo, clear in the cool, damp air.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” Could Nick hear the quaver in her voice? He was spelled to stay calm, she knew, but she was still his mother. She still owed him comfort. Pulling in a deep breath, she pressed all the desperate fear down to her hand, told herself that it was oozing from her fingertips where she trailed them along the wall, leaving her body, painting the wall with tracks of sickly yellow-green, the color of bile. “I’m fine,” she said again. “You did a good job healing it.” She swallowed. “I should have thanked you.”

She didn’t feel thankful. She wished he’d let her die.

“No need,” Eli said. Then, after a few more steps, “We should reach the bottom soon.”

“Have you been here before?” Now that they were talking, she realized how much it helped. She was coming loose from the earth, but his voice, the simple human process of making sense of his words and offering something sensible in return, was like a rescue rope. She grasped it with both hands and clung.

“No, but Sister Eve showed me a map.”

“Will it really take twelve hours?”

“More,” he said, apology in his tone. “We’ll take breaks and stop to sleep at some point.”

“And we have to crawl for a while?”

“Yes.”

“How long will we have to crawl?”

“Not long. It’s the distance of a few city blocks.”

She almost laughed. “Your definition of ‘not long’ is a little different than mine.”

He did laugh, a low chuckle, but didn’t answer.

“I suppose now’s as good a time as any to warn you,” she said, desperate not to lose the thread of conversation, of sanity, “I don’t love small spaces.”

He didn’t answer for a long moment, several heartbeats pounding in her ears, several steps surrendering to her feet before, “If you want, I can–”

“No.” She couldn’t even let him say the words. She could understand, looking back, why he felt he had to use his magic on her the night before. In his position, she might have done the same. But that moment of necessity had passed. “No. Never again, Eli.”

She expected him to argue, but he didn’t. Which was good, she thought, because it wouldn’t be an appropriate argument to have in front of Nick. But also, the silence…

“So, um…” She pressed her fingers harder to the wall, relishing the scrape of pain as the stone chafed her skin. “So you’re not a level two healer.”

“No.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“What level are you, then?”

“I don’t know for sure. I was meant to downplay my capacity during the Order’s evaluations, so I wouldn’t get shunted off to palace duty. The rebellion wanted Davy and I together, in the rank and file.”

“Together.”

“Yes.”

“So that you could protect him.” She didn’t mean for the words to sound accusatory, but they came out that way, sharp and acidic. And perhaps it was a trick of the light, but she thought she saw his back tighten in a subtle flinch.

“Yes.”

He couldn’t say more with Nick right there, magically sedated but still conscious and listening. But the guilt and regret were clear enough in his voice. Guilt and regret that seeped through her own skin and settled in her gut. Perhaps she hadn’t meant to be cruel, but she also hadn’t tried to be kind. Not at any point since he showed up at her front door and broke her world in half.

She was just so angry, and there was nowhere for that anger to go.

She was about to say something, to apologize, when the halo of light from the crystal shifted and the stairs gave way to a gentle downward slope.

“So, the area where we have to crawl…” she prompted.

“It’s nearer to the end, when we pass under the city wall.”

“We haven’t already?” She was confused. The Hive itself sat outside the city walls.

“No, we’re likely just reaching the outer ring. The tunnel passes under the city. We’ll come out in Loftland.”

Loftland.

For a moment she was standing back in the entryway of her townhome, watching Davy buckle his swordbelt around his waist. “It’s just a Loftland patrol, sweetheart. I’ll be back by dinnertime tomorrow.” He’d been wearing a sweet, cajoling little smile. She’d had her arms crossed over her chest, a protective gesture. Somehow, in all the chaos, she’d forgotten that moment, when she’d followed him to the door and given voice to the hollow dread inside her. “I’m worried,” she’d admitted. More worried than normal. Worried in a way that settled like a heavy stone, deep in her belly. “I have a bad feeling.”

She should have trusted her intuition. He’d have stayed if she asked him to.

She’d still have him.