Instead of unlocking the passage at the bottom of the winding steps as Zander did last time, he led us beneath the steps and along a hidden path I had to crouch to pass through while the men had to crawl. Now we trek silently along an endless corridor that reeks of mildew, the skeletal remains of dead rodents crunching beneath our boots, as we flee into the night with stockpiled provisions—mainly weapons and gold.
That the king of Islor had his own go bag like the one I stowed in my apartment for a quick getaway is not lost on me.
“Imagine how differently things could have gone had you only been honest with me,” Zander muses.
“I was afraid you would kill me!”
“Yes. Spend the night wrapped in a woman and then rise to execute her in the morning. That sounds like me.”
“Sounds like that night in the tower.”
Zander stops so abruptly, I plow into his back.
“And while we’re on the subject of being honest, you knew Atticus wanted to be king. He brought all those soldiers, loyal to him, into the city. Was it for protection, or was it so he could overpower you?”
“Possibly both,” He admits, continuing forward.
“How could you not see what he would do?”
“Because he is my brother! And because it seems I cannot see anything clearly when you are around.”
“So this is my fault? Even though I warned you not to trust him?”
He sighs. “I think we’re past the point of blame. But I wager Ybaris got what it wanted.”
“Who poisoned Quill? Was that also Atticus?”
“I do not claim to know anything anymore. Whoever the culprit, they did so to keep people afraid of the Ybarisan princess set to be queen. Atticus has been seen with Adley and the others. I don’t doubt now that they have been whispering in his ear notions of claiming the throne, convincing him of the righteousness of it. And then today happened, and he saw his chance. It could not have been more perfect, really, though it seems the priestesses have had their own hand in plotting, independent of everyone else. It does not matter anymore, does it?”
Atticus’s accusation loiters in my mind. “Do you even want to be king?”
“No, I do not,” he admits, shocking me with his resolute answer. “Which is why I must be.” He pauses. “So this story you fed me, about not remembering anything—”
“A lie. My name is Romeria Watts. I’m from New York City, where mostly everyone is human and there is no talk of fates and casters and immortals. An elemental named Sofie tricked me into helping her save her husband, only to stab me in the chest with a token horn from Malachi. I woke up in this body, which is exactly like my own body, with people accusing me of murder.”
Behind me, Elisaf curses.
“Except you’re not human. You’re a key caster.”
“Apparently, but I had no idea. I don’t know how it all works. I never felt anything until I took this ring off the other day.”
“You tried to tell me,” Zander says, more to himself.
“Yes. But that didn’t work out well for me.” God, it feels like a concrete block has been lifted off my chest.
“And how are you supposed to save Sofie’s husband?”
“I don’t know exactly, but I think he might be imprisoned in the Nulling.” Sofie said Elijah was trapped somewhere and it sounded like Malachi was the one who sent him to that place. When the fold was torn, the monsters who escaped were from the Nulling, sent there by the fates. It would make sense then, that the two are the same. Though, the last time I saw Elijah’s body, it was in a stone coffin in Belgium. “Malachi sent me here to try to open the nymphaeum door, which I obviously am not going to do. And I’m not going to help Sofie. So that leaves me with learning how to be a key caster.”
“Until people find out what you are. As if they didn’t already have reason to kill you,” Zander mutters.
“How do you know you can trust Gesine?” Elisaf asks quietly. They’re the first words he’s spoken to me since we crawled through the tunnel.
“I don’t, but if they wanted to kill me for being what I am, they had a thousand opportunities to do it.”
Silence drags on as we trek along the path. I ache to know what’s filtering through Zander’s mind right now, but he isn’t saying anything.
We arrive at the end of the corridor and meet a solid stone wall that I’ve come to learn means nothing in this world of secret passageways.