“She’s bringing the Key with her,” Rowan says calmly but assertively. He’d spent the better part of our journey through the palace grounds making this same assertion to the guards, almost as if he were boasting.
A murmur ripples through the Court as the Heirs confer with each other. Lord Devlin leans forward and whispers something to Lex.
“The Court has grown tired of your family’s false promises,” Lex says, addressing us. The girl should have been ours seventeen years ago. I’m afraid we have grown tired of granting allowances—”
“She will be here before the equinox is over,” Rowan says. “In fact, I don’t think it will even take her that long. If these harpy-mouthed guards had merely waited at the gate as I instructed them, they could have intercepted her before now. So if it’s anyone’s failure that she isn’t here yet, it’s your own personal guards’.”
“Lies,” Lex says. “As if we are to believe that the girl could make it here on her own.”
“She isn’t just any girl,” I say, my voice filled with so much anger that it doesn’t sound like my own anymore. I realized too late that I have addressed him in English out of new-found habit instead of our archaic language, but I don’t care enough to adjust that now. “She’s more powerful than you could imagine—”
“Silence,” Lex demands, switching to English as if I had issued him a challenge. He’s doing his best impression of my father, but he shows his frustration too easily compared to Ren, who still sits regally in his captive chair, unmoving. “Your father has already been told his sentence for his ineptitude—banishment—but we’ve all had something extra-special in mind for you, Haden. Death.”
With that, I am seized by four of Lex’s loyal guards and thrust down upon the altar. I almost laugh at finding myself in the same position I was in before I left the Underrealm, my head once again on the chopping block.
I should be afraid for my own life, but the agonizing pain in my blackening arm makes me think that death might be a welcome change.
Lex steps down from the throne. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for six months,” he says, drawing his sword. “If your father were a true leader, he would have done this the first time: not made a mockery of our traditions by allowing you to continue on your so-called quest. As if you could have brought the Cypher to us.”
Lex raises his sword. I glare up at him, daring him to do it. A loud shout sounding from somewhere in the antechamber beyond the throne room distracts him. It sounds like a quick skirmish. Lex lowers his sword slightly as the chamber doors burst open. I hear their footsteps before I see them, but then Garrick comes running into the throne room, holding Daphne by the hand.
“Haden!” she says when she sees me. “We’re here.”
“I can see that,” I say. My head is still pressed against the altar.
A distant voice in my mind says with relief, she came. But I can’t grasp on to it. The relief is replaced by anger that comes on so quick, I cannot think of why I would have been relieved to see her. I traded everything I ever wanted to keep her from this place, and now she comes waltzing in here of her own accord?
Why?
My furious thoughts are punctuated by the fiery pain that burns its way through my veins.
“What is the meaning of this?” Lex asks. “Who let this Boon in here?”
“I am the Cypher,” Daphne says.
Another ripple of exclamations makes its way through the Court. Their excitement disgusts me almost as much as her ready admission. Daphne will have to fend for herself for her own stupidity.
“I’ve come because of Haden, which means he’s fulfilled his quest. You have no grounds for punishment.”
Two of the guards loosen their grip on me, and I am allowed to lift my head up from the altar, but I remain kneeling in front of it.
Ren stares at Lex, a satisfied smile sliding across his face. It is rare for my father to show such emotion. “Which means your grounds for this coup are unfounded. My bargain with the Court has been fulfilled,” Ren says.
“You’ve already been deposed,” Lex says. “The Court has given you a vote of no confidence, which means the title falls to me, as I am the next in line as Prime Heir. The crown is mine.”
Lex reaches for the crown that sits on the altar in front of me, but then his hand stops. He strains, reaching for it, but he can’t grasp it.
As if it were impossible for him to seize the crown.
Ren laughs. It’s a horrible sound. “You forget about the oath I made,” he says. “Before Haden left on his quest, I made an unbreakable oath that whoever brought the Cypher to me would become my Prime Heir.”
I’d been too disoriented at the time to hear the oath that my father made when he dipped his dagger in the water from the River Styx at the Choosing Ceremony, but he’d told me about it later when he’d given me the chance to make my own oath to bring Daphne to him. He had said the word whoever.
I’d refused him then … for reasons I can’t quite fathom at the moment. Had I fullfilled his oath without meaning to?
“You’ve lost your position, Lex,” Ren says with a snear.
“To whom? To Haden the nursling?” Lex rages. His sword is still drawn, and that distant voice inside my head tries to tell me that I should fear his wrath or that I should at least want to find a way to seize his weapon from him and run him through, but as pain pulses through my body, I find that I cannot even hold on to hate and anger at the moment. I simply do not care what he chooses to do with me. Only that he would make his decision faster.
“No,” Rowan says. “I’m the one who got her to come. I should be the new Heir.” The guards do not stop him as he walks toward the altar. Someone has loosed his bands, and he breaks them away, freeing his hands. “I am king now.”
And I realize that is what he’d wanted all along. The reason he dragged me here and tricked Daphne into coming—he knew that he would become Prime Heir if he succeeded.
My apathy from only a second ago is replaced by burning hate once again at the idea that Rowan is going to win.
Daphne makes some sort of protest against Rowan’s claim, but I don’t care what she has to say. She let him trick her. This is all her fault.
That small, distant voice tries to whisper that I am wrong, that I should care. That Daphne’s protection should still be my greatest desire, but she had already fulfilled her role in all of this, so what more use was she?
No, the voice whispers, but I don’t know why I should care. The searing pain has spread to my chest now, with black, crawling tendrils spreading through my veins toward my heart. Perhaps it is some kind of poison. One that has left me with nothing but pain, anger, hate, and apathy to fill my cold shell.
The thought strikes me that when the black, inky poison spreads through all of my veins that there will be nothing left of me but the shell itself.
That nothingness feels as welcome as death.
Rowan smirks at me as he comes to stand by the altar. “I told you I would be the one who wins, little brother.” He stretches his hand toward the crown, but then snatches his hand back as if it’s been burned. He tries to reach for it a second time but fails again.
“It seems it doesn’t want to belong to you, either,” I say.
“That’s because it’s mine,” a voice says from the back of the chamber. Every head in the room snaps in the direction of the voice. Including mine.
Garrick steps from beside Daphne.
“What?” she asks, as confused as everyone else.
Apathy grips me once more, and I can’t even muster the desire to be surprised.
Ren’s eyes narrow into snakelike slits as he measures his Lesser son.
“What do you mean, runt?” Rowan barks at him.
“I’m the one who brought Daphne through the gate,” Garrick says, walking toward the altar. “She said she wanted to go with me into the Underrealm of her own free will. I’m the one who delivered her here. Not Haden. Not Rowan. It was me.” Garr
ick reaches for the crown. Nothing stops him, and he wraps his fingers around the wreath of golden cypress leaves and then lifts it from the altar. He holds it aloft for a moment, while everyone in the room watches him in awe.
“No!” Rowan shouts and tries to make a grab for the crown, but he’s stopped as if by an invisible hand before he can touch it. One of the guards seizes his outstretched arm.
Garrick smiles at Rowan, his nostrils flared, and places the crown upon his own head.
The guards at my sides fall to one knee, and many in the Court do the same, acknowledging their new king.
chapter sixty-one
DAPHNE
When Garrick got the drop on one of the guards in the chamber outside the throne room and then freed me from my captor with a blast of lightning, I had expected him to try to make a run for it, but, instead, he’d grabbed me by the hand and burst through the throne room doors, in essence, delivering me to the Court.
I wonder now as he stands in front of the altar, the crowd bowing to him, if he knew that this is what would happen. Or if he’d only figured it out when Lex and Rowan were unable to claim the crown.
“This doesn’t change anything,” Lex says, addressing the Court. “Are you really going to claim this Lesser as your new king?”
Another regal-looking lord emerges from somewhere in the crowd of people—other Underlords, I presume—who fill the room. “The oath must be respected. It’s been sealed and cannot be torn from the tapestry of the Fates. He is our king now, like it or not.”
“Then kill the boy,” Lex says.
“I’ll do it for you, gladly,” Rowan says. Two guards have him now but he speaks as if they’d happily give him a sword in order to kill Garrick.
“Do you not remember when that same suggestion against Haden at the Choosing Ceremony almost brought the wrath of the Oracle upon you?” the lord asks Lex. “Perhaps this is punishment for your insolence. I suggest others in the Court do not continue to press this matter, less they risk offending the Fates as well.”
Another lord steps forward from the court of men who surround Lex behind the altar. “Ren’s banishment still stands. We will accept the boy, but as far as Haden and Rowan are concerned, we were promised the Key. Where is it?”
All eyes from the Court fall on me, but I am empty-handed. “I don’t have it.”
Rowan points at me. “She was supposed to bring it here. That was the arrangement I made. I did my part. It should be here—”
“Banish Rowan with Ren,” Lex says, like he can’t stand listening to his excuses for another minute.
Rowan attempts to make a break for it but is soon subdued into a black sleep by one of the guards.
“And Haden?” the man from the Court asks once the hubbub is over.
“Haden’s execution order still stands,” Lex says, gesturing to the guards.
“What?” I shriek as the guards seize Haden once again. And he lets them. I expect him to struggle. I expect him to try to fight, but he just lets them place his head on the altar. Like he doesn’t care. His face resembles that expressionless mask he used to employ so often when we first met. The one he used to pretend he was beyond feeling emotion. Only now I can’t see the light behind his eyes. This time, he isn’t pretending. …
What the hell is his problem? But then I see it. The thing I’d feared. His left arm under his bindings is streaked with black veins. They creep over his shoulder as if spreading toward his heart like spindly, poisonous vines.
He’s been struck by the black arrow. And it’s already affecting him.
Lex raises his electrified sword over Haden’s neck, and a gleam of joy dances through his eyes. He revels in the moment. If he can’t be king, he’ll play executioner.
I need to do something.
I listen for the sound that Lex’s sword makes, thinking I can cause it to leap from his hands, but the weapon is silent. That is when it strikes me—this room is void of ethereal sound. No notes. No melodies, no special tones coming from any person or object in this room. Come to think of it, I hadn’t heard a single ethereal note since entering the palace.
I open my mouth with the idea to create my own music in hopes that it will be powerful enough to stop Lex’s blade on its own, but when I try to sing, no sound comes out. I try humming, but the same thing happens. Silence.
I don’t know why or how, but my music is gone. My power is gone. …
Lex raises his sword even higher.
“Wait!” I shout, almost expecting my voice not to work. Apparently, I can speak, but I cannot sing? “I don’t have the Key with me, I mean. But I can get it. I hid it somewhere.”
“More lies,” Lex snarls.
“You’ll never know if you kill Haden. I will never give it to you.” I look at Garrick, imploring. “I hid it after the boat crashed. I can take you to it.” I am lying, but I channel as much sincerity into my voice as possible as I approach the altar.
A couple of guards try to step in my way. “Stop,” Garrick orders. “Let her come.”
I’m standing only a foot from Haden now. “Do something, Garrick. You are king now, aren’t you? Act like one.”
The guards holding Haden look to Garrick for his answer, but before he responds, Lex swings his sword at Haden’s neck.
“Stop!” I shout, feeling powerless.
A blast of lightning hits Lex’s sword, and he drops it. He reels on the perpetrator: the lord who had stepped forward from the crowd to defend Garrick’s place as king. The man stands his ground. “Let our new king decide Haden’s punishment,” he says.
While the Court is distracted, I make a run for Haden. I might not have my powers, but I still have my hands and feet. I try to grab him, but I am apprehended by two guards. They hold me up in the air by my arms. My muscles scream in response.
“What shall we do with her?” one guard asks, but his manner makes it unclear whom he is addressing—Lex or Garrick?
“Kill the lying witch,” Lex says.
I look to Haden, and he doesn’t even glance in my direction. One of the guards who holds me lifts his sword to my throat, while the other looks as though he wants to let me go.
“Halt!” Garrick commands, stepping in front of me. “Let her down.”
The guards comply. Garrick steps even closer to me. “Promise your allegiance to me, Daphne, and I will lessen Haden’s sentence. I will have him banished along with his father and brother.”
“Why not just let him go?”
Garrick rocks forward and whispers so only I can hear. “I cannot do less than banishment. The Court wants him punished. If I let him just walk, I may lose what little hold I have on this crown.” He turns away before I can argue and snatches a pomegranate from one of the fruit bowls that I imagine have been set out for the Court’s refreshment, and carries it to the altar.
“What are you doing with that, Garrick?” Haden asks.
He’s still kneeling, his hands bound, but the guards have let him raise his head once again.
“Saving your life,” Garrick says.
“I don’t need your help,” Haden says, going from indifferent to angry. His emotions—all negative ones—are all over the place. I wonder how long until even those are gone permanently.
Garrick shakes his head as if he recognizes that Haden is no longer himself. He smacks the pomegranate against the altar. The fruit cracks open, dripping red juice on the white marble. “Come, Daphne,” he says, sweeping his hand over the altar. “Bind yourself to me so you will be under my protection until you can bring me the Key, and I will let Haden live. He’ll be banished to the mortal realm.”
I kneel opposite Haden at the altar, and Garrick offers me the pomegranate. The juice running down his arm looks like blood. “Eat,” he commands me.
“Don’t do this,” Haden says to me, but his voice gives away no emotion—only that he thinks I’m being illogical. “If you eat that, you’ll be bound to this place.”
“I know,” I say.
> “Let them kill me,” Haden says to Garrick, anger seeping into his voice again. “Send her back to the mortal realm, where she can’t cause any more problems.” He sounds as though he is merely upset that I have delayed his execution, but I want to believe that there is at least an ounce of care driving his words.
Garrick shakes his head. “She’s the only one who can take us to the Key.”
Haden looks at me over the altar, his face only inches from mine. “Don’t trade yourself on my account, Daphne. You have a future to go back to. I don’t.”
My heart aches as he says this, because I realize he is willing to die because he thinks he has nothing left to lose.
“Why would you do this?” he asks, like he thinks I’m being completely irrational.
I probably am. But I don’t care.
I lean in closer to him over the altar and caress his cheek with my fingers. He does not react to my touch. I slip my other hand into my pocket and pull out the red arrow. I act before any of the guards have time to notice my weapon. “Because I love you,” I say.
And stab him in the chest with the arrow.
chapter sixty-two
HADEN
She’s stabbed me!
Has she tried to kill me herself?
I look at her, my apathy gone, and an emotion I can only call loathing pulses through my black veins for her betrayal.
Her eyes widen. “No, no, no,” she says, and seems to lunge for me over the altar. Her hands go for my face, and I try to shake her off. She grabs me, both hands cupped under my chin, and she leans in as if she were about to kiss me. But just as her lips are about to touch mine, one of the guards pulls me away from her. Another takes her by the shoulders and holds her against the altar in front of Garrick.
A warm, pulsing sensation radiates from the arrow protruding from my chest. No blood spurts from the wound, but red, serpentine lines slither out from it under my skin, pushing back the black ink in my veins—as if sending it retreating toward the black cut in my arm.
The agonizing pain that has engulfed me since my arrival in the Underrealm lessens for the first time.