Ravenous (22 page)

Manson clears his throat. “King Oliver, I believe I may be able to shed a little light on Greta's meaning. And I also have my own proposition.”

“You do?” the king and I say together.

Manson winks at me and turns back to the king. “Might I suggest restoring the eldest surviving member of the royal family to the throne?”

I begin to choke, even as the crowd's murmurs turn to outright cries of surprise, tinged with delight.

King Oliver frowns. “I didn't think any of the royal family lived. Ensel murdered all who could lay claim to his throne.”

Manson's eyes glitter, and Hans pats my back to help me with the choking. I manage to catch my breath, but before I can tell Manson,
No, no, no,
he gives up my secret.

“She stands in front of you. Greta's mother was Princess Euphemia. She married a commoner and fled to live in your city to keep her family safe from Ensel's wrath. I'm afraid he
caught up to them eventually. Greta will be old enough to rule on her own in a few years. I imagine you, and I, could provide her with the necessary guidance until she comes of age.”

A scream wells up in my chest. Rule?
Belladoma
? Of all places!

The king gazes at me with surprise. “I take it you knew nothing of this until recently, Greta?” I shake my head.

“I think you can see, Your Majesty, why it is no small thing for Belladoma's future queen to want to be the one to save her city. And why it is important that she carry it out. These people have been downtrodden, used, and neglected by their rulers for too long. They will not follow her for less,” Manson says.

“If I may, sire, I can attest to her bravery, and fierce loyalty to those she intends to protect. You could not find a better queen,” Dalen says. I stare at him in shock.

King Oliver regards me for a moment as though seeing me for the very first time. “I believe you are right, Manson,” he says slowly. “Greta will make an excellent queen.”

“But—but I know nothing about being queen. Or how to run a city.” The weight of all that responsibility bears down on me.

Dalen, now at my side, takes my other hand. It's comforting. “You won't be alone,” he says, smiling. I glance over at Hans, who is speechless, but his eyes are bright and shining.

“You most certainly won't be,” King Oliver agrees. “We will guide you. I know your memories of this place
have not been good, but you have the power to transform it. To make Belladoma a place worth living in again.”

“I cannot say it will be easy, Greta,” Manson says. “Only a fraction of the wealth this city once knew remains in the treasury, but it should keep you and your brother for some time. I suspect you do not share the lavish tastes of your stepuncle or the mercenaries. With Bryre's help, the city could be rebuilt and be flourishing again soon.”

I gape, still stunned. Can I really do this? It's tempting, in its way, to renew this place. Our mother's home. Our heritage. The idea of having a treasury—however small—at our disposal is staggering. No more stealing for our next meals, no more scrounging what we could from our meager garden. We could sleep peacefully at night, without the terror of being separated and thrown into an orphanage turning our dreams to nightmares. We could move on with our lives at last.

But can the blood Ensel poured through the streets ever be washed clean? It's one thing to help Belladoma with the Sonzeeki, but another entirely to commit the rest of my life to the city. Could I bear to live in the same halls where I was held captive? I stare at the gathered crowd, struck by one cruel fact: there are plenty of boys among the men and women, but only a handful of girls older than a year or two. None at all older than five or six. Ensel fed the Sonzeeki almost every young girl in this city. Then he went after Bryre. It wasn't because the people here supported it; it was because Ensel took everything from them. They've suffered just as much—maybe even more—than we did. Shame fills
me. This is what Dalen was trying to explain the other day. They are not bad people. They're victims too. They deserve a ruler who can understand what they've been through, not someone who will take advantage of them yet again.

My mother loved this city once, its alleys and roads and the castle in its prime. Could I try to love it too, for her sake? Can I see this castle as a place where she grew up instead of as my former prison?

The crowd of Belladomans murmurs no longer. The collected people have heard every single word that's passed between King Oliver, Manson, and me on these steps. Their faces are filled with something I've never seen on them before, not in this tortured city.

Hope. Smiles.

At first, there's a few scattered cries of
A survivor of her generation! Our girl returned! She'll rid us of the beast!
Then their voices join together to form one word over and over like a beating heart:
Greta, Greta, Greta!

Hans beams, and begins to chant with the crowd. Dalen and Ren join in.

The decision seizes me with an unshakable certainty. “I'll do it,” I say, not taking my eyes off the gathered crowd chanting my name. “I'll learn to be Belladoma's queen.”

And I'll have my friends, and Hans and his kindness, to guide me.

THIS MORNING, SUNLIGHT GLINTS OFF THE DEBRIS-FILLED CITY, DROWNING
everything in gold and pink. The ocean waves shine like glittering diamonds. If only the sun could burn away the smell of rotting fish and seaweed, too.

Yesterday I chose this path, and now I stand with Hans and Dalen on the cliffside by the secret tunnel door, certain of—and terrified by—what I must do. They insisted on coming with me, and I can't deny I'm grateful not to be alone. Stump hovers by the tunnel; he doesn't seem to like being so close to the cliff.

I place a hand on Dalen's arm. “I want you to know that after this I'll do whatever I can to protect you and the rest of the hybrids. You and your family deserve to live without fear. Maybe, when I'm queen, you can live here? I know
King Oliver and Bryre would also help to keep you safe from people like the mercenaries. And you could help the citizens renew their fields in half the time.”

Dalen's eyes gleam. “No more hiding? I rather like the sound of that. The others may require more convincing.”

“Well, they are in need of a new home, after all,” Hans says. I filled him in on all my adventures, and he was most curious about the hybrids.

“Indeed they are.” Dalen smiles at us both. “I think Belladoma may soon become a very pleasant place to live. You'll make a good queen, Greta.”

I smile back. My city will surely be the strangest the realm has ever seen. I wouldn't have it any other way. I glance at Hans. He has taken all of this—what happened to our parents, who our mother was, and what that means for us—in stride. I almost envy him that.

They say Hans and I are the last of Belladoma's royal line, but I don't feel like it. I've known myself as a daughter, a sister, an orphan, and a fighter. Queen isn't a title that fits me.

Not yet.

“I must earn that title, Dalen.”

“That's why we're here.”

If I'd had my way, we'd never have dreamed of helping Belladoma at all. We'd have let the Belladomans die for the sins of their usurper king, Ensel. I was wrong. I don't deserve to be called queen, not while the Sonzeeki still plagues us. I have to stop the horror Ensel set in motion. I must set right what he set to ruin. Then I'll be fit to lead.

My shoes are weighted—I'll sink quickly. Ensel's underwater potion quivers in my shaking hands. This time real waves crash below me, every slap of water jolting my nerves. What if the potion doesn't work the second time? What if I drown and Hans is left with no one? I swallow my fear.

This is the cliff my friends were thrown from. And my parents. The ghosts of hundreds of girls have haunted me these past few months. The Sonzeeki must be stopped. How else can Belladoma survive? If we are to grow anything to eat here, the soil must have time to recover from the salt poison the beast has thrown on it every month.

If I am to be queen, I must save my people.

Hans nudges my arm, startling me. “Don't worry,” he says, a smile on his face. “You always come back. I know you will this time too.”

“And we'll be here to pull you back up when it is done.” Dalen gestures to the long rope waiting beside him. When I resurface, they'll throw the rope down and help me back to safety.

“Thank you.”

The potion bottle glints in the morning light. Manson says it should last at least two hours. I must find the lair quickly. My other hand grips a sword taken from Ensel's hidden room, which, according to Manson, was forged in dragon's breath long, long ago. Imbued with such magic, it may very well be the only thing that can pierce the beast's armor should our plan to return the cornucopia go wrong.

Ready as I'll ever be, I down the potion in a single gulp. Then I jump off the cliff.

Cold water slaps my skin and I sink quickly. Water on every side. Terror rears its head like a vile living thing. But then relief. I can breathe.

If the beast eats me, I hope Dalen will watch over Hans. With every second, I draw closer to the source of my nightmares. My pulse throbs in my ears.

The deeper I sink, the more the light begins to fade. My sword glimmers with magic and shows the way. I can almost see the bottom. Schools of fish dart here and there, shimmering in the last vestiges of sunlight. Strange plants root in the reefs and rocks. Broken pieces of wood—a shipwreck, perhaps?—shoot up from the ocean floor. Everything sways with the tide as if it dances.

My boots are heavy with water and weight, but when I hit the bottom, I trudge onward, plumes of sand kicking up in my wake. According to Manson, Ensel found the Sonzeeki's lair in a deeply shadowed cave carved into the base of the cliffside. Soon I locate my destination—it's humongous.

Just like the Sonzeeki.

I head for the cave, every nerve tingling painfully with trepidation. Now more than ever I understand how much I have to lose.

I force my feet to keep moving, though I may as well be trudging through molasses. My heart shudders against my rib cage. I cling to my sword, determined not to show fear.

Secretly, I pray the beast never wakes and I can return
the cornucopia while it slumbers.

The cave entrance looms ahead and I hold my sword aloft to light the way. Phosphorescent algae line the walls, giving off a faint glow as well. No fish venture near the cave, confirming the Sonzeeki lives here.

What prey would willingly walk into a predator's lair?

Only me.

I take a deep breath of seawater, then swim inside. The cave floor is studded with smooth round rocks, as though the sand has been worn away by something massive. The walls are easily fifty feet apart. Finally the passage opens into a cavern that must be directly below the city. It's so high I can't quite see the ceiling.

This is how the Sonzeeki floods the city. From here, if the creature stirred the cave waters violently enough, they'd flow up and onto the streets and fields. I'm close.

Several shadowed passages dot the walls of the cavern. The beast must sleep in one of them. The question is: which one?

I inch around the edge of the cavern, feeling like an ant scoping out a snake's lair. The fear I'm about to be crushed is ever present and inescapable. The first and second tunnels only lead farther on, but when I reach the third, I pause. This is another cave.

I investigate, sword firmly gripped in my hand. My stomach drops into my feet.

Bones. Many, many bones.

I stagger back but manage to stay on my feet. I must be strong.

A huge, shadowed rock lies beyond the scattered bones. Like the walls, the rock is covered in algae and barnacles. Something catches my eye. In the center of the boneyard lies a pile of other objects. These must be the things the beast couldn't digest. My stomach squirms, but I lunge for the pile anyway. I have to know.

Earrings, necklaces, and other adornments are the most common. A forgotten coin in a pocket here. A handkerchief there. I recognize the initials of some of the girls I met when I was Ensel's captive. Whole pieces of discarded clothing, mostly dresses, in varying stages of decay. A handful of belts and boots, too. Those must be from the courtiers Ensel threw off the cliff before he discovered the Sonzeeki would only be satisfied with young girls.

My hands stop short as they light on one particular object. I lift it from the pile. The pocket watch is silver-plated with a simple filigree design along the edges. I'd know it anywhere. Papa carried it with him always. It was as precious to him as Mama's locket was to her. He used to tell us how one day I would inherit Mama's locket and Hans his pocket watch.

Now we have them both back.

A sob rises in my chest. The glass is cracked, letting in the seawater, and the two hands are frozen at eight thirty-one. I can only assume that is the time they died.

“Papa,” I say, doubling over and clutching it to my chest.

Grief twined with fury brews inside me. They died so senselessly. To protect us when no real protection could be had. It was for nothing.

I shoot to my feet and head to the back of the cave, bubbles from my sudden movement in the water floating up around me and tickling my ears. There can't be anything worse in here for me to see. Except, of course, the Sonzeeki itself.

The piles of bones continue until I reach an alcove at the far end. It's different from the rest of the cave and passages. No algae cover the walls, but the ambient light reveals the rock face is a shimmering jet-black stone.

In the center is something I definitely didn't expect to see.

An altar.

It's carved from the same black stone. An indentation is the only thing marring the top. I stare at it for a moment; then it hits me. I know exactly what was here. I know
exactly
what would fit.

The cornucopia. This is where it was when Ensel, that selfish idiot, stole it. The beast had easy access, and no need to plunder the coast and city for food. Everything it needed to survive was right here.

I look closer at the indentation. At the bottom is inscribed:
To sate the ravenous beast.

The legends are true. The Sonzeeki is ancient. A creature from myth, long forgotten, but still sleeping beneath Belladoma. The kings and queens of old found a way to keep the beast at bay.

Then Ensel went and ruined it with his insatiable greed.

My hand curls tighter around the hilt of my sword. I wish Ensel had never been born.

I step out of the alcove, needing more space, but my fury trails close behind.

The only one of its kind, the beast must have been down here for centuries at least. Understanding ripples through me. It wasn't always alone—it couldn't have been. Maybe the rest died long before Ensel took the throne, or perhaps afterward from lack of food. Whatever the case, this beast is
lonely
.

In an odd way, it makes me think of Kymera. She was a lonely monster too. There wasn't a single living thing like her anywhere. And like this monster, everything she'd become was tied up in the past and death.

And yet somehow I managed to forgive her for what she'd done.

I sink to the ocean floor, still clasping my father's watch.

The huge rock on the far side of the cave begins to move.

Horror holds me in its grip. I'm not alone. The Sonzeeki has been watching all along.

The rock shifts and slowly spins, buoyed up by the undulating tentacled arms that sprout beneath it. The thing must tuck them inside its shell when it sleeps. One giant milky yellow eye turns to me. It blinks but makes no movement.

If I wanted to, I could kill it. Right now. I could rush the beast and plunge my sword through its eye, the only part not protected by the shell.

But I can't.

Its tentacles are no longer the robust, muscular arms I remember. They've begun to wither. It must exhaust itself every time hunger and fury drive it to flood Belladoma. It's an ancient thing.

And it is slowly starving to death. Whatever food this monster needs to eat, it must no longer live in the ocean. Or it depended so long on the cornucopia that it has all but forgotten how to hunt live fish. Either way, the beast is already dying.

A strange emotion fills me. Pity. Oh yes, I hated the Sonzeeki for eating the other girls and my parents. But it was used by the wizard and Ensel as much as the rest of us were. We were all tools in their twisted games.

No doubt the wizard could've killed the Sonzeeki any time he wanted. But why would he? It isn't a magical creature. No power could be gained from its death. And without the threat of the beast flooding his city, Ensel wouldn't have needed a steady supply of girls to feed it, nor would he have dreamed of leaving Belladoma to take over Bryre. Killing this beast would've ruined all of the wizard's plans because it would've solved Ensel's problems.

The Sonzeeki is only doing what it was made to do—eat and sleep. How awful to be at the top of a food chain that has all but died out.

The eye blinks, and the tentacles settle over the nearest piles of bone.

I can't kill a beast that is the last of its kind. But I can set right what Ensel ruined.

I must return the cornucopia to its rightful owner. I saw firsthand the lengths it drove Ensel to, and now I'm the lone witness to the sorry state of the beast who owned it for who knows how long.

Cautiously, I reach into my satchel and pull the small
horn-shaped basket out and hold it up like I'm warding the Sonzeeki off. I creep backward until I reenter the alcove, and rest the cornucopia in the indentation.

Its true resting place.

I edge my way around the cave, doing my best not to disturb the Sonzeeki. Its eye follows me, but to my surprise, it doesn't attack. Is it too weak, or is it grateful I've given its food source back? I don't know the answer, but I count my blessings when I reach the exit to the cave unharmed.

Now I must return home, and hope I've finally righted enough of Ensel's wrongs.