The Archshade

Twenty-Two

The sound of soft rustling in the kitchen alcove snaps me awake in the dark hours of the early morning. Daynar's bedchamber door is swung open, and the amber glow of dim lantern light pools on the floor just outside the kitchen doorway. I rise to my feet and slowly maneuver around the furniture, stepping lightly and peering through the darkness.

The dim glow snuffs out.

Jumping behind the bedchamber door, I clamp a hand over my mouth, hoping the darkness will conceal my absence from the lounge chair.

Quiet, shuffling footsteps come down hall, soft as a breeze but unmistakable. The footsteps pause. The chamber door swings open, then softly clicks shut. Unable to risk hesitation, I snatch a black robe from a hook on the wall and fasten it around my shoulders before rushing to the chamber door. After peeking into the corridor, I trot across the marble floor on my toes, soundlessly following the flutter of a matching black robe as it disappears around the corner.

Candles flicker along the walls, dripping wax onto their metal brackets. The darkness is at its thickest, and the entire world seems asleep, but Daynar moves through the night as naturally as a moonbeam. I trail behind as he rounds another corner. In the main hall, he pulls up the hood of his robe before glancing over his shoulder. I dive behind a stone statue, crouching with my breath stuck in my chest.

After a moment, I peer around the granite torso to see Daynar quicken his pace. I slink after him again, tailing him through the dark castle as we wind through empty corridor after empty corridor and approach the palace entrance. We're only a few paces from the massive front entryway when Daynar takes a sharp left, ducking into a doorway and sinking into its shadows. The flickering glow of torchlight rounding the corner gives me just enough warning to duck behind a decorative column and press my back against the cold marble.

Two guards with swords belted at their waists approach on a nightly patrol. The men speak softly to each other, chuckling occasionally as they draw closer and closer to my hiding place. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to slow my throbbing pulse. My nostrils fill with the scent of horse hair and boot polish as the guards pass within my reach. The heat of their torch flares along my face.

But just as quickly, it fades away, leaving the corridor dark again.

Peeling myself away from the shadow of the stone column, I catch sight of the fluttering edge of Daynar's robe disappearing down a narrow, twisting flight of stairs. I rush after him, my feet pressing noiselessly against the cold, stone steps as my hand drags along the wall, guiding my way through the darkness.

At the bottom of the stairs, there's a dank passageway. The air is bitter and stagnant, much like a wine cellar, and the darkness is so thick I can barely see in front of my face, but the sound of softly scraping metal leads me farther into the darkness. I blink hard, trying to see anything, but I only get a vague sense of rooms lining the hallway on either side.

The strike of a flint startles me as the stub of a candle flares to life in Daynar's hand. I jump back, but the small circle of orange light doesn't extend very far, keeping me safely in the shadows.

A cell—a dungeon cell with unyielding iron bars and straw covering the floor like a stable stall. I look over my shoulder and see several more dungeon cells extending down the corridor and disappearing into the darkness. I strain my ears and breathe in slow, trying to detect any trace of life, but the cell block seems like it's been empty for years. No stench of human filth, no muffled clanking of shackles or shivering whimpers, not even the scampering claws of rats. Though I know an empty dungeon should be a solace to me, I shiver as the thought crosses my mind that maybe Prince Darcron's prisoners pay a far steeper price.

I press up against the cold, metal bars of the neighboring cell and watch Daynar crouch beside a cell door and fiddle with a rusty key in the lock. The lock clicks, releasing its hold. Daynar opens the cell door but pauses to give another furtive glance over his shoulder. For a split second, I freeze, feeling his eyes upon me. I strain to keep every part of me motionless, to dissolve into the shadows thrown by the flickering candlelight.

Untroubled, Daynar snuffs out the candle, plunging us into darkness.

The silence roars in my ears, but I stay frozen, listening. There's rustling from inside the cell and then a dull scraping sound like something heavy being dragged. Suddenly, at the back wall, pale moonlight begins pooling inside the cell. After using his elbow to knock several more stones out of place, Daynar clambers through the hole and disappears.

I follow the prince into the dungeon cell. Beyond the gap in the wall, there's a sandy knoll dotted with desert brush and lit by the fading starlight. Lifting the hem of my robe, I climb through the hole after him.

Outside, dry fronds of desert grass caress my ankles as I stand on the crest of a tall slope and look into the shallow valley. The city of Jannah lies sprawled across the ink-black landscape, covering the hills at the edge of the desert with over a hundred dots of glowing orange lights—a golden reflection of the starlit sky. A deep breath pulls in the crisp night air and its earthen smell of desert rains. Wafting and dancing on the cool breeze, there's a sweetness of something open and unknown. Something like freedom. Yet, to my left, the wall of the palace looms out of the rock of the hillside like a stone creature crawling out of the earth.

The billowing hem of a black robe moving down the grassy slope stirs my attention. I take a step forward, intending to go after Daynar, but my body hesitates. A hard-learned habit forces my head to look back at the hole in the dungeon wall. I wince as Tali's words echo in the back of my mind.

"Do not give a second thought to his well-being. He will not return the favor."

I could still slip back through the wall, sneak back to Daynar's chamber, and curl up beneath a warm blanket. There's still a chance to cover my head and ignore all of this, a chance to live out my days in ease and comfort as the Archshade's consort—as his companion.

"Let these princes destroy themselves and just survive through it."

Pulling the black robe tighter around my shoulders, I take off after Daynar, leaving the palace behind. My slipper shoes shush across the grass as I move, and my resolve strengthens with every step.

I don't want to just survive.

The illusion of goingback is just that—an illusion. There was no going back from the moment I lookedin the Ambassador's eyes. Even more so, there was no going back from the momentI looked in Daynar's.

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