That was a mistake. I should know better than to start a water fight with a Duel who could drown me if he liked. After Kitt has finished thoroughly splashing me, water is dripping from my hair and clinging to my lashes. And then I’m laughing at the sight of us, sopping wet in the middle of the castle garden.
I’m still wiping sticky strands of hair off my face when I say, “This was not a very fair fight.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Paedyn
The familiar stench of loot fills my nose, and I suppress the urge to gag.
Home sweet home.
The long, wide street is cast in shadows, cleared of merchant carts and beggars for the night. I pass clumps of homeless huddling together in the adjacent alleys jutting off Loot, gambling or using their powers to entertain themselves.
It’s nearly a quarter past midnight already, and with a huff, I pick up my pace. Because tonight I have somewhere to be, and questions to be answered.
Tonight I’m finding the Resistance.
It wasn’t hard to slip out of the palace, especially since Lenny doesn’t guard my door at night. The Imperials that litter the palace weren’t a problem either, seeing that I’m used to sneaking around unseen. I crept out through the garden and followed the road by the Bowl all the way back to Loot since I haven’t the slightest idea how to ride a horse and figured tonight wasn’t the best time to figure it out.
I pass by the alley where I first met Kai, and smile at the fond memory of robbing him blind.
Good times.
I push thoughts of him away, not allowing myself to get distracted as I turn down a familiar street. My street. The one where the small, white shack of a house resides. I swallow the lump in my throat at the sight of it. I haven’t been back here since I fled from it five years ago. When it was covered in my father’s blood, and I was smothered by grief.
But this is where that boy’s note led me, the one I now know is a part of the Resistance. I’m suddenly standing at the door, breathing hard as I stare at the familiar cracks and dents in the wood.
Here goes nothing.
I take a deep breath and pull at the door.
Locked.
But bolted doors are child’s play to a thief. I pull out my father’s dagger and pick the lock with ease, seeing that he taught me that skill with this exact door and this exact blade so many years ago.
The door swings open, creaking on its rusty hinges as I step through it. I clutch my dagger tightly while I cautiously peer around my old home. It looks completely ordinary, completely the same. The old furniture resides in the exact same spot I left it in, the cracks in the walls still climbing up to the ceiling. Cobwebs cling to almost every surface in the house, looking as if someone hasn’t been here in years.
Maybe I was wrong.
“Well, well, well. Look who the Plague dragged in.”
I have my knife raised, aimed, and ready to throw at the figure standing in the shadows behind me.
In the darkness, I see the shadowy outline of hands raised in surrender. My eyes adjust to the dim light, catching a flash of red, tousled hair falling over a freckled forehead.
“Lenny?” I whisper, my mouth falling open. He takes a slow step forward and his familiar brown eyes and grin come into focus.
“The one and only.” His voice sounds as light and kind as it always is in the palace. But that doesn’t mean I drop the blade still raised in my hand. I’m confused, disoriented, and in need of answers now.
“What is going on?” I demand, staring at him suspiciously. “Why are you here?”
Is he a part of the Resistance? He must be, but—
“Yeah,” he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, “we have a lot to fill you in on.”
I blink. “We?”
“Yes.” He points a finger to the creaky floorboards beneath our feet. “We.”
I just stare at him, waiting for an explanation on what the hell is going on, why the hell he is here, and who the hell he is with.
His gaze flicks between my face and the knife still ready to fly into his heart. “And once you put the knife down, I’ll show you what I’m talking about.” He speaks slowly as if trying to calm a crazed animal, and I’m sure I look like just that.
I lower the knife slowly and nod, once. He puffs out a relieved breath, his shoulders losing some of their tension. “Plagues, you really are terrifying sometimes, you know that? I mean, sure, I’m the Imperial here but, man, you could probably whoop my ass—”
“Oh, and I just might if you don’t tell me what is going on,” I say, teeth clenched.
“So demanding,” Lenny sighs, gesturing for me to follow him. “On second thought, you might be better suited as a royal than an Imperial, aye princess?”
He tosses a smile over his shoulder as he turns towards the study. My father’s study. The room where he was murdered. I feel like my lungs are being crushed, my heart being squeezed, as we step into the room.
Ordinary. Completely ordinary, just like me. There’s no blood soaking the floor or the chair—
The chair he was murdered in.
It’s gone. A pang of sadness hits me as my eyes sweep the room, trying to find the chair he loved to read in so much. I’d sit at his feet or on his lap as he told me stories about better worlds, ones with magic and heroes and girls who didn’t have to hide who they truly were.
Lenny walks up to the leaning bookcase in the corner of the room, littered with books covered in dust and cobwebs. I’m about to ask what exactly he’s doing when he suddenly grips the edge of the bookcase and pulls. I watch, awestruck, as the wooden shelf slides easily to the left on some sort of track beneath it. And behind lies descending stone steps.
I have never seen that before.
Lenny flashes me another grin, gesturing towards the darkness that lies behind the bookcase. “Ladies first.”
What I should have done was laugh in his face before making him go down the staircase first, but I’ve thrown caution to the wind and hastily replaced it with curiosity. The sound of my footsteps against the stone echoes as I brace a hand on the grimy wall and continue down into the darkness. When I’m standing on smooth, solid stone at the bottom of the steps, I stop.
Lenny runs right into me, nearly running me over.
“Ow, shit—I mean, sorry—uh, I didn’t see you stop.”
“Yeah, well, that’s because we can’t see anything,” I snap, assuming I’m glaring at his face in the darkness.
“Now that, I can help with.” A female voice coming from the darkness makes me jump, and I collide with Lenny all over again. I hear the flip of a switch and the hum of dim lights turning on. Then I’m blinking, trying to understand what I’m seeing.
I’m standing in a large, damp room, filled with tables overflowing with charts, maps, and supplies. Notes and papers are plastered to the walls, making for an odd sort of wallpaper. On the other side of the room, there are mismatched chairs scattered in a circle with papers thrown on top of them, and messy cots are lining the far wall.
And, arguably the most important detail, there are people standing in this room. One of which I immediately recognize as the boy I stole from, the same one from the ball. The male to his right is older, around the age my father would be, with straw-colored hair and pale blue eyes that watch me closely. The girl beside him looks only a few years older than I am, a mere copy of the man beside her.