CHAPTER 89

“We could have asked him to bring us with him,” I say.

Medrein doesn’t respond. Nothing stirs in the corridor above, lit by magical fire that doesn’t do enough to dispel the darkness. The resulting effect is a sea of shadows punctuated by a few dim islands of light. The only sound beyond our hesitant steps is the slow ebb and flow of the ever-present roar of Godtouched at meals. A rowdy bunch they are. It’s incredible that Valkas can reign them in at all.

The ghost-sound makes me nervous, and I know these hallways well. Medrein, who doesn’t, is more nervous than I’ve ever seen him. I don’t know how much of it is the pain. His face is bloodied and ravaged, his nose broken and his lip cut and bleeding. Still, nervous or not, he moves on, unstoppable.

“Whatever he’s planning on doing,” I insist in a whisper. “However he’s using Meriana, he could take us to Hilde too!”

Medrein shakes his head without looking at me directly. Its infuriating, but I know that I cannot get him to turn back. The only place he wants to be in less than here is the place we’re coming from.

We approach a turn in the corridor. I lead the way, focusing on Rue’s buzz to calm my nerves. I peek into the new corridor. Empty.

“Are you sure you cannot magic us to your friend?” Medrein asks, gruff.

I shake my head.

“The amulet has charges. I don’t know how many, not for sure, but I think four in total. I used one to get to you. We need the remaining three so we can all get away.”

“And this friend…” He hesitates. “She’s special? How important is she?”

I don’t know why the question causes such a weird feeling to blossom in my chest. I don’t even recognize the feeling, not at first. It’s Medrein’s tone that tips me to the last time I felt this way. Right when Dala told me Katha had been given away.

“She’s important. She need my help,” I say.

I speed up, hurrying down the corridor. The roar of laughter, shouting, conversation, the clinking of cutlery, are all becoming clearer, becoming more evident to our ears. Medrein catches up with big, ungraceful steps, muffled by the rich rugs.

“Son, be reasonable,” he says. “It’s a miracle we haven’t been caught yet. If we are, what use are we to your friend?”

“You don’t understand,” I say, wishing he would stop.

The strange feeling mixes with the fire in my heart in a strange way. They mingle, grow together, until there’s a pounding behind my forehead. Small, becoming larger. My breathing accelerates.

Why doesn’t he stop? What is he even saying?

“…do understand. When I saw you go into the Dungeon, when I let you go, I… It was the last thing I wanted to do. I let you go because I trusted you had a chance. You must believe the same about your friend. You must trust that she’ll make it out through her hell, that you can meet on the other side.”

“You know all about that, don’t you?”

The words are out of my mouth before I can think of stopping myself. I’m glad, at least, that I’m taking point, that I don’t have to look into Medrein’s eyes, that I only have the sudden absence of his steps to judge his reaction by.

Because you made him sad?

A sneer. An amused shake of the head. For a moment I think it’s Rue, the thought seems so alien. Then I realize that no, Rue is quiet beyond a slow, lilting hum. The thought came from my own head. From my own blazing, fiery core.

“Malco…” Medrein says behind me.

I turn, then. Turn and advance.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“You gave her away,” I spit. “You gave her away to save yourself. Your own daughter. And now you want to do it again with a stranger.”

I look up at his beard, blood-smeared face. Pain has come, finally, to disfigure his already broken expression. Somehow, I don’t think it’s a belated reaction to the violence downstairs.

“Is that what you think I did?” he asks, looking down. A thin stream of blood falls from his nose onto the long rug, tainting the vivid colors.

“It was what you did,” I say. “We had no volunteers. You wouldn’t let Rev go. So giving her away, forcing her to go, was your only choice. Or no, not your only choice. You could have faced them. You had the strength!”

“Your mother said she’d explained it to you,” Medrein continues as if I hadn’t interrupted. “Oh, Dala. What must you be thinking.” He a quick, pained smile. “Do you realize it’s been more than a month now since you left and I came to find you? She must be certain we’re all dead.”

“I don’t care!” My voice rises dangerously before I wrestle it under control. “I don’t! You conspired, you, you sold her so you would be spared. To appease the Godtouched!”

“We did it for you!” Medrein answers, a touch of his ever-present rage climbing to the surface. “You think they would stop at me, Malco? You think Valkas brought all those Godtouched that day just so they could amuse themselves in some hick village in the hills? You’re smarter than that.”

I bite back my answer. I don’t have one, in fact, because Medrein is right. I know Godtouched better now, but even then I knew their tactics of intimidation. That if they felt they had to level an entire village to the ground, well, that would certainly teach the rest of them to behave.

And yet. And yet.

“We should move,” I say, turning, walking down the corridor. “We don’t have time.”

To his credit, Medrein follows without argument. The corridor, too long, too richly dressed, too artificial, turns once again into an even larger one. At the end of this one, I see the entrance to the large mess hall. Some Godtouched speak by the large double doors. Otherwise, and beyond a few servants, coming to and fro, the corridor is empty.

Our objective is in sight. The marble stairwell leading to the upper floors hides the much narrower flight of steps that will take us to Hilde. All we have to do is move.

“Malco,” Medrein blurts out. “I truly thought your mother had spoken to you, I—I know how important Katha was to you…”

“How important she is,” I say, not turning.

“What do you mean?” he asks. “I thought… I thought she’d died in the Dungeon. She’s alive? Katha is alive?”

“Yes. You’d know that if you’d asked after her,” I say. Now, now I turn. Because the enormity of it all, the gross disdain for Katha, for my sister, has grown too large, too heavy. The fire demands tribute.

I level a hand under Medrein’s chin. I hadn’t noticed the war mantle turning to armor, but there it is. I’m clad for war.

“You’d know she’s alive if you’d bothered to ask. If all you cared about wasn’t Rev. Guess what – I care about Rev as well, Medrein. I care about them both. And Dala,” I put as much venom in my mother’s name as I can muster. “She did to me. You set your trap well, dragging me away to where I couldn’t intervene. Because I promise you, I would have. Even if it had killed me, I would have done it.”

It’s the most abuse I’ve ever seen anyone pile on Medrein. Even Meriana’s cyclops downstairs, facing Medrein on his preferred arena of violence and destruction, seemed more like a friendly sparring partner.

He looks pissed. Furious. His hand actually shakes under the strain of containing himself, and I relish it. The power of hurting him, of hurting my own father. He deserves it, all of it. He deserves—

“If you’d died,” Medrein says through clenched teeth. “Then, I never would have forgiven myself. Your death would have been painful, but to know what you had died for, spitting on the sacrifices of others, that would have flayed my soul—”

“The sacrifices of others!” I say, disbelieving.

“Katha’s sacrifice, stupid boy!” he bellows.

“I know well what you mean!” I yell back. “It was no sacrifice. You gave her—”

“She gave herself!”

The desire to silence me, by any means necessary, was patent in his face, had been for a while as my accusations built up. I was expecting a slap, a punch even. I was not expecting this.

“What?” I ask reflexively. A scapegoat word for the barrage of questions suddenly demanding expression.

Medrein breathes in and out, nostrils flaring.

“I told you this in your room, little after the Godtouched departed. I told you that Katha’s sacrifice had made you safe.”

“You said she gave—”

“Katha knew we had no volunteers,” Medrein interrupts. “That the Godtouched were likely to be disappointed. But that was not all. She was decided, son. Katha wanted to leave Reach. She would not tell us why, though your mother asked her, begged her to tell us. It was her decision, Malco.”

I let the words sink into my awareness without attempting to reach for any of them. Meaning eludes me. A flurry of confusing emotions rise from the fiery pit in sparks of different colors, betrayal, sadness, a sense of undefined longing, disappointment, love. They all fight for dominance.

In the end, it’s a relief to turn, to scan the corridor once, ignoring the pain, focusing on what we must do now. The Godtouched remain at the end of the hallway, deep in their cups and merriment. The servants stand at attention, waiting to be needed. One glances in my direction but diverts her eyes away immediately.

“The path is clear,” I say. “Let’s go.”

Before Medrein can say anything, I run off to the marble staircase, to the almost hidden steps, into the darkness once again.