We wait until night time to put our plan into action. I take the hidden staircase at the bookcase, but instead of going into the library, I walk down a long hall. With a flashlight now, I follow the tunnel for what seems the length of the estate. Down a few flights of stairs, I make it to the ground level—the dungeons. Caleb and Vale take the long way, forming alibis with every person they see. I wait just behind a square exit that Caleb said is a shield on the other side.
Hearing two knocks, I push open to find Caleb and Vale waiting. He helps me out and I jump down a few feet to the stone floor. Two patrol guards stand by the dungeon stairs, but their heads are downcast as if sleeping.
"Nice touch," I say as Caleb closes the shield.
Vale smiles, seeming very proud of herself.
"What about the cameras?"
Caleb points to the small cameras whose little red lights are off. "They've been disabled. It seems my Uncle doesn't want anyone to know who's down here or what they're doing."
I scoff. "Like smuggling non-magics?"
Caleb nods, and the flicker of pain in his eyes hurts me. I can imagine it's hard to believe his own uncle has something to do with his mother's death, with the death of so many non-magics.
"I found a cell with tracks heading toward a wall," he says. "I think this is the path they take."
Gia, one of the non-magics Roane and I saved, mentioned she had smelled sewage. Hauling in a breath, I nearly choke on the same smell.
Caleb leads us down another set of stairs and a long hall lined with cells. It's cooler here and darker, the stone walls damp. We reach the last cell and I cup my mouth, stifling a sob. The floor is covered in mud and straw, and in the middle of it is Roane, curled into himself. Black and blue marks cover his skin, coalescing with his tattoos. His eyes are closed and he shivers as if stranded in the middle of a winter storm.
I clutch the door, desperate for Caleb to open it. He flicks through the keys, testing out each one.
My heart hammers with each failed lock. "Can't you just use magic?"
"The cells are protected," he says, jamming another key inside.
I look back to Roane. The key has to be in there. We can't be so close only to have him die on us. A click finally rights my heart; Caleb turns the key and opens the cell door.
We rush inside. I fall down at Roane's side and roll him over, cradling his head in my lap. Black strands cling to his forehead, damp with sweat and blood. I brush them away and he leans into my touch.
"Roane," I call to him. His face is much paler, and blood seeps from his lips. My tears fall onto his cheeks as if to wash it away. "Vale, you need to Share with him now."
She nods and drops down opposite him. Knotting her auburn hair on top of her head, she reaches out her hand to take him from me. I hesitate and look her straight in the eyes with a look warning that I will break her if she hurts him. My threat made, I let her slip his head onto her lap.
Nearing his mouth, she parts his lips a slight and exhales onto his mouth. Her breath leaves her as white, sparkling whirls that glitter between them. That's pure magic, and it flows into his mouth continuously.
Roane flinches, his chest arching up. His eyes snap open as he sucks in a desperate gasp. His irises have faded to a murky gray, but he inhales Vale's breath, and they slowly regain their color. Vale presses him down and lets her exhale run dry before scuttering back against the wall. I can tell it's the first time she's Shared. Her eyes are open wide, her chest heaving. She looks just as needing and confused as I felt the first time.
Roane groans, rolling onto his side to stand. I rush beside him and help him sit up. "How do you feel?"
"I've been better." A few more breaths and his color comes back to him. The cut on his lip also heals and his eyes return to the deep brown I've grown to know. Caleb and I help him stand. He rolls his shoulders and his neck. "Who healed me?"
I jerk my head in Vale's direction. She's standing now but still pressed against the wall.
Roane gives her a nod. "Thank you."
A blush creeps up her face.
I grip his arm, drawing back his attention. "I know you said you didn't want to go back, but Mage Edwards means to kill your Prince during the Swelling and destroy your people."
Roane's eyes lock onto mine, a wave of emotions swelling there. His frame grows rigid as it settles on anger and protection. He may not like the Darkness, but he loves his people.
"We'll head out this way," Caleb says, leading us to the tunnel used to smuggle the non-magics. He brushes aside straw with his foot and reveals a wide crescent on the floor. "This is where the doorway rubs when it opens."
Caleb presses his hand against the stone. An archway of white inscriptions light up, but the door doesn't open. Caleb mutters a few spells but finally curses, unable to locate one that will open the passageway.
Roane flexes a hand. "Stand back."
"An explosion will draw too much attention." Caleb touches the wall again. "Besides, these cells are fortified against magic."
Roane turns his eyes to Caleb and lifts his hand toward the wall. "Not my kind of magic."
"No, you can't." I come around him and lower his arm. "You said Black magic makes you sick, and you're already ill. We can find another way."
Caleb's hands come over my shoulders and he draws me back. "He knows what he's doing, Ro. Let him."
Looking down at me, Roane searches my face. He lowers his gaze to Caleb's hands on my shoulder, to the kiss he places at my temple, and his jaw tightens. He turns back to the wall and lets out a long breath. Extending his hand to the stone wall, he murmurs a series of words in a harsh language. They don't roll off the tongue easily, and with each broken syllable, the air in the room thickens. I clutch Caleb's hand, feeling the heaviness press down on my chest and steal my breath. Vale feels it too, her eyes wide. Behind me, Caleb also stiffens.
Roane's eyes darken. He blinks and they wash over in black. Worry rushes inside of me and I grip Caleb's hand tighter; wanting—needing to keep from going to Roane and calling him back to me, away from the darkness.
His words come to an end. A phantom gust brushes through the hall, and I hear it: far away moans and the clinging of metal shackles. As the sound nears, dark wisps detach from the shadows, curling toward the wall. Some of the shadows join and take on the outline of men, bound together by chains of black smoke. Faceless, they heave forward, their gangling limbs dragging and waving in the air.
In the midst of the increasing darkness, Caleb gives off a whitish hue, creating a circle of light around us. Vale stands in her own light a distance away. One of the Shadowmen turns his head to her. A gaping hole opens where its mouth should be and an echoing moan resounds, a tortured woman's shriek underscored by crying tenors.
Vale flinches and swats it away, but her hand—glittering white within the darkness—cuts right through it. The Shadowman hisses and reaches for her, bearing fangs that ooze blood. Roane brushes before her. He grips the immaterial being and thrusts it by the wall, barking an order in the jagged language. His voice is deeper, violent. That's not my Roane and for the first time, I shift back, frightened of him.
Two of the Shadowmen create an arch with their bodies, their arms coalescing. The other three remove the stones from the wall as if unloading empty boxes. They pile them on the ground, creating a doorway. Finished, they kneel before Roane.
"Go," Roane orders. Caleb moves from behind me and toward the opening.
Vale steps back. "I—I'll stay here, holding the spell. If anyone comes, I'll say Roane did it before escaping, and Caleb went after him." She skitters back, away from the darkness.
I nod. "Thank you, for everything."
"Ro..." Caleb calls for me. I turn to him and then I can't move. The shadows in the room have multiplied, creating a blanket of black fog along the ground. Roane stares at the ceiling and then slides his gaze along the walls. A part of me knows he thinks of destruction. Convent stands for white magic. No doubt that destroying it will satisfy the darkness that possesses him. But my vision said I'm to keep him from darkness and I'll fight to the end to do so.
Abandoning Caleb's light, I walk the short distance and meet Roane in the shifting shadows and black fog. "Roane."
He turns those eyes to me, pits of black and nothingness. Darkness pools around us, twining about our feet, but I hold my ground.
"You opened the doorway. We're free. Release the shadows and let's go." I hold my hand out to him, steady. "Come with me."
His stare remains fixed on mine, cold and emotionless. I nod encouragingly. In the heart of the growing blackness, he lifts his hand and slips it into mine. I coil my fingers around his and take a calm step back, and then another until we reach the doorway. He looks over his shoulder one last time then walks through the threshold and into the tunnel. Behind us, the Shadowmen begin piling the stones back and close the doorway.
We walk down a flight of stairs and through a long tunnel lined with pipes and lamps hanging intermittently on the walls. Movement catches my eye in the shadows between the lights. Cold ropes down my spin. "Roane, your Shadowmen are still following us."
"They'll follow us to the bridge, while I regain my strength," he says, short. I don't ask anymore. He hadn't used black magic before, not even when we were in danger. I swallow, mindful that using it is probably most dangerous of all.
We reach a gate at the end of the tunnel. Roane comes between Caleb and I and turns back to the Shadowmen. At his command, the Shadowmen pull apart the metal railings, allowing us passage. We step out into a shallow stream. Convent's towers about two miles away.
The Shadowmen stagger out into the open and vanish into the night.
"Which way now?" I ask.
"If you follow this trail upstream, you'll reach the bridge in less than an hour," Caleb says. He doesn't meet my eyes.
Dread roots me. "You're not coming?"
At this, he looks at me but says nothing. No answer is needed.
"No, you have to." I grip his shirt. "It isn't safe for you here. They'll try you for treason!"
"My uncle doesn't know you were with me. He doesn't even know you're alive. It's best if I stay. I can do more from the inside." Cradling my face, he stares down at me, a sad smile on his lips. "It's better this way."
I shake my head, unwilling to accept this, yet knowing it's true. He takes my hands from his shirt, kissing each one. "You were meant for this, Ro. Your determination, your stubbornness, that's your magic. Go, he needs you... and you need him."
Opening my mouth to speak, I find no words.
"I've known you long enough to know. I saw you cry for him last night, and I...I felt your feelings for him..." He swallows deeply. "All I want is for you to be happy. It's all I've ever wanted."
Pressing my lips together, I nod, unable to hold back the tears, unable to deny that we're finished and that I had ruined us. "I'm so sorry."
He grazes away a tear. "Me too." He dips his head and kisses me. A slow kiss that cuts me deep. "I'll always love you, Ro. Never forget that." His hands linger on my hips a moment, and then he lets me go.
"Go," he says, his voice breaking. "I'll point them in the wrong direction."
He lifts his eyes over my shoulder and steps around me, to Roane. "I don't know the truth about your kind, but she trusts you." Extending his hand to Roane, Caleb looks him straight in the eyes. Roane meets his hand and his stare. The unsaid threats and warnings there steal at my breath. Stepping away from one another, they each turn to me.
Roane reaches a hand to me. The warring emotions force a broken smile to my lips and tears into my eyes. I meet his hand.
"Be careful," I say as he enters the tunnel. He looks back at me one last time, and with the smile I remember falling in love with, he dashes into the black. A part of my heart vanishes with him.
Left alone with Roane, I look away, unable to face him. We've been together before, alone, but everything has changed. Releasing his hand, I hug myself and walk ahead. Lingering feelings weigh down my heart, and I need to move or they'll bury me alive. Somehow knowing exactly what I need, Roane walks behind me, silent.
We keep to a steady pace, and though we aren't followed, we stay close to the trees and darkness. Roane's Shadowmen weave between the branches like ravens, guarding us from above. I wonder why Roane didn't use them before, during the times we were in danger. But seeing the changes in him, I'm glad he didn't. Though I don't fear him, I feel we're crowded. It's stifling and tightens my stomach with each step. Their presence is nauseating. My skin burns when they pass us, when they turn their faceless eyes to me. Their hunger is palpable, starvation for my skin and my light.
Roane stops sharply. Reaching out, he blocks my way. A Shadowman plummets before us, its limbs curling into himself. Its mouth gapes and a slow moan seeps out. Dread flashes across Roane's eyes.
"What did he say? What's wrong?"
He leans back against the tree and hauls in a deep breath. Around us, the darkness deepens.
"It's the Shadowmen, isn't it?"
He presses balled fists at his temples, and the air thickens more.
"Release them, Roane. We can fight this together—"
"Not yet," he barks, his teeth clenched and voice deep. He lowers his hands, but remains still and stiff, as if assimilating the pain he feels at the hands of darkness. When he lifts his eyes to me, what's left of my heart breaks. Black vines frame his face, snaking into his eyes.
Cold breath brushes the back of my neck. I flinch and turn. My chest locks and I'm frozen. Line after line of Shadowmen stand tall, waiting. There are fifty times the amount as before.
"Are magics are coming?" I ask, touring my gaze along the darkened sky and then back to the bridge. "Trolls? Who's coming, Roane?"
My answer comes when a line of men, more than twenty, appear from under the bridge. Their frames are rigid and black marks weave along their arms. "Sentries."
"Worse," Roane says, his eyes fixed on a man that stands in their midst. Wearing a long black duster and a crown of spiked thorns, he steps out from in between the sentries, regal. He has Roane's fine features but looks more delicate...lethal. His eyes slide across the plains, and as Roane steps out into the open, a slow smirk spreads on his lips. He extends his arms as if wishing for an embrace.
Roane stiffens. Drawing beside him, I meet the eyes of the stranger. His beauty tells me he hasn't taken on the darkness, but the look in his brown eyes warns he doesn't have to. He's already evil.
"Who is that?" I ask.
He shakes his head. "My brother."
How that can be worse or what their dynamics are, I don't know. But my vision said I was to keep him from darkness. So as Roane walks forward, I blow out a breath, take his hand, and fall into step beside him.
If I can't keep him from darkness, then I'll follow and be his light, guiding him out of it.
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