Traitor (25 page)

Araxie’s dejected expression kept us all from saying or touching anything. It felt wrong. This stuff was hers, even if it had been abandoned when she and her family had fled the city.

She picked up a gold-plated hand mirror and dusted it off, briefly glancing at her reflection before putting it back down. “Bring in anything you think we can burn. Then we’ll bar the doors for the night. We should be safe here. My attendants and myself managed to take refuge here for two weeks before we fled. It’s well barricaded.”

Once we were settled in, sitting around the small fire we had built, a strange silence settled over us. Jace was just staring at the flames with his brow furrowed. Kiran was doing the same, but while spinning a dagger through his fingers over and over. I was sitting between them, nibbling on the last of my day’s rations.

Araxie was the only one who had seemed interested at all in sleeping. She unfurled a small sleeping pallet from her pack to curl up on, pulled down one of the old blankets that was left draped over a sofa, and turned her back to us.

“Someone should keep watch,” Jace murmured suddenly.

I agreed. “I’ll take the first one.”

No one argued me for it.

Kiran stretched out on one of the sofas and was asleep in minutes. Jace, on the other hand, sat up a while longer still gazing at the fire. I wondered what he was thinking so hard about. It was obvious that something was bothering him, or whom he might be thinking about. At last, he let out a heavy, defeated sigh. He laid back on one of the plush wool rugs, using his travel pack as a pillow. I knew he was asleep when he started to snore and wheeze.

Hours passed like centuries. I kept the fire burning low, adding a few chips of wood from a smashed up chair every now and then. The embers glowed and filled the room with a warm orange light.

When everything was quiet, I heard Araxie begin to stir. She rolled over, facing both the fire and me. It didn’t look like she’d slept at all. She had a thoughtful frown on her face similar to the one Jace had been wearing earlier.

“Something bothering you?” I asked.

Her eyes shimmered strangely in the light of the fire, changing colors to match the movement of the flames. “There’s somewhere I want to go,” she answered quietly. “But I’m terrified to go there.”

“Why?”

“Because I was just a child the last time I went.” She looked at me squarely. “And I’m not sure if I would be welcomed back.”

I thought about that for a moment. “Is it close by?”

Araxie nodded.

“Then let’s go.” I stood up and dusted off the back of my pants.

Her eyes went wide and she sat up. “N-now? But what about them?”

I glanced at Kiran and Jace. They were both sound asleep and showing no signs of stirring anytime soon. “They’ll be fine. It’s close by, right? We’ll make it fast. They won’t even know we’re gone.”

She didn’t act quite as eager to get up and join me. More than once she flicked an uneasy, calculating glance between the rest of our group and me, as though she were still trying to make up her mind.

“If you don’t go, will you regret it later?” I asked again.

“Yes,” she answered in a faint voice. That was all the motivation she needed, apparently. She stood up and walked past me, her bare feet not making a sound on the marble floor as she brought me to a place in the corner of the room where one of the wooden panels on the walls could be pushed away to reveal a hidden door in the wall. It led into a small tunnel—so small that I barely fit. Fortunately, it was only a few feet long.

She opened another hidden door that emptied into a dark, disheveled library. The walls were covered in grid-like cubbies that were stuffed full of scrolls from floor to ceiling. Many of them had been torn from their resting places and scattered all about the floor. They were yellowed and curled with age and exposure to the moist air. I picked one up only to realize it was written in a language I couldn’t understand. It certainly wasn’t the human or gray elf language.

Araxie must have noticed my puzzlement. “We stored many texts here, records of times past from kingdoms long forgotten. Chronicles of an ancient past.”

I let the scroll slip from my fingers. It fell back to its resting place on the floor at my feet. “Seems a waste to abandon them here.”

“Perhaps one day we can return and restore them.” Her words were hopeful, but her tone betrayed how she really felt. She didn’t have much faith in our plan. Or at least, she didn’t believe she would ever get to live here again.

We continued on through the palace, slipping as quickly and quietly as possible through abandoned halls and ransacked chambers until at last we came to a grand but strangely cold staircase. It led downward into a darker part of the palace where the faint light of the moon could not reach. I hesitated to go down it because that dreary, ominous descent reminded me a lot of Paligno’s tomb.

Araxie didn’t seem too concerned with it though. She went on ahead and left me no choice but to follow. When the darkness became so thick that we couldn’t see anymore, I pulled another large seed from my belt and willed it to light the way. As soon as the air filled with its radiant green glow, I caught a glimpse of her face. She was staring at me with a mixture of awe and fear.

I just smiled at her. “Turns out those voices in my head are good for a few things.”

“So you really can hear them? The memories of your ancestors?” She stared at the glowing seed curiously. “My father told me that the Lapiloque can recall all the powers and memories of his past manifestations. Because you are joined with Paligno, you are also connected with those who came before you.”

I could tell she wanted to ask something—something I suppose she was afraid would offend me. It wasn’t hard to follow her logic. So I asked it for her. “Can I hear my mother’s memories?”

Her expression became timid.

“Yes,” I answered her with a smile. “But it isn’t just the memories of Paligno’s chosen ones. Sometimes, he lets me glimpse his memories, too. I think that’s how I was shown what Hovrid had done to the real King of Maldobar.”

Araxie took a step back, looking away as though speaking about this made her somehow uncomfortable. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. Perhaps Paligno is vesting more power and energy in you than the others.”

I understood why she was reluctant. Hope was a dangerous thing. And if she placed too much hope and faith in me, then by failing … I would be confirming that she had nothing else to hope for at all. If the chosen servant of a god couldn’t help them, no one could.

Neither of us spoke again as she continued walking, eventually bringing us to an arched stone doorway. It was beautifully engraved to resemble an arbor with the shapes of two women standing amidst the flowers. Beyond the doorway, I saw at last where we had come.

It was indeed another tomb. But this one wasn’t for a god.

Placed on a raised stone platform was a sarcophagus that appeared to be engraved from solid alabaster and adorned in golden details. On the top was the beautiful effigy of a woman lying on her back with her flowing hair spilling over the sides of the engraved structure. The statue had been made so that it looked like she was lying on a bed of ivy, and though her eyes were closed, her expression was peaceful and content.

Araxie stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the sarcophagus. Her expression tightened, and for a few seconds, she looked a lot like a frightened child. Her eyes were big and vulnerable and her brow was drawn up like she might start to cry.

I went past her to get a better look at the tomb and the statue of the woman carved into it. She was obviously a gray elf. Her ears were long and elegantly pointed. There was also a crown of flowers on her head. Her slender arms were crossed over her chest, and I could see that whoever had made this had paid special attention to every detail. They had even taken the time to paint golden details onto the flowers.

“Your mother?” I guessed as I glanced back at Araxie.

She didn’t have to answer out loud. I could tell just by the way her expression fell to anguish that I was right. Slowly and cautiously, she began to make her way closer to where I stood. Her eyes, however, never left the sarcophagus.

“Why did you think you wouldn’t be welcomed here?”

Araxie’s lips scrunched up like she was biting back emotion. “Because I am not the woman she was. This war has required me to become something she never would have approved of.”

“And what is that?”

“Cold,” she replied.

I felt her grasp the sleeve of my tunic as though she needed comfort, so I put an arm around her and drew her closer to my side. She laid her head against my shoulder.

“I was under the impression gray elf women could be warriors if they chose to be.”

“Yes,” she said. “But I am a princess. There are different expectations. Or at least, there were. When my brothers were killed, their responsibilities were passed to me. I am expected now to exemplify my people’s bravery. I can’t falter. I can’t show any weakness. I must be the knife’s edge of my father’s army.”

We stood in silence, showing a few minutes of quiet reflection and respect for the dead queen before either of us dared to speak again. I was thinking about her brothers, which inevitably brought Jace to mind. He’d been the one to kill all three of them in battle. Likely they hadn’t had a burial at all, let alone one like this.

“You know, I think Jace feels pretty bad about what happened with your brothers. I mean, now that he’s been here amongst your people, it does seem like he’s changed a lot.”

Araxie stared up at me like I’d suddenly grown a third eyeball.

“All I’m saying is that I’ve noticed he’s acting differently,” I amended quickly. “And to me, as an onlooker, I can tell he admires you.”

She snorted disbelievingly. “Probably because he’s not used to having his rear end handed back to him by a woman.”

I couldn’t exactly refute that. Jace was an extremely good fighter. He probably hadn’t lost many fights before meeting her.

“Do you think I should forgive him?”

Her question caught me completely off guard and it took a few seconds for me to mull that over. Forgiving someone for murdering your siblings was a tall order for anyone. I couldn’t imagine the grief she’d endured. And for her, losing them had changed the course of her entire life. It had left her with only her father to support her and it had also dumped a lot of responsibility squarely upon her shoulders.

“I think everyone deserves a second chance,” I decided at last. “Especially if they are willing to change. But I don’t think that kind of forgiveness can happen instantaneously. It takes time. You also have to look at intent. Until recently, you were enemies at war. The rules of war suspend normality. Under any other circumstances, I doubt he would have gone out of his way to hurt them—just as I’m sure you wouldn’t have hurt anyone if you were still just a princess and not also a warrior.”

She was studying me carefully, as though trying to assess if I had some ulterior motive. Finally, she turned her gaze back to her mother’s grave. “I suppose I hadn’t considered it that way.”

“I have a human half-brother, too. And I don’t know for sure, but there is a good chance he died in the battle for Barrowton. A gray elf more than likely killed him. Should I blame the warrior for doing that? Should I hate him for it? Every soldier that falls, elf or human, is someone’s father, brother, son, or husband. If we can’t forgive those deaths, then peace means nothing and Hovrid has already won.”

There was a tug in the back of my mind as we turned to leave the burial chamber. It made me pause. I listened to the whispers of those memories for a moment, and then decided to leave behind a token for the late Queen of Luntharda. It only seemed right for me to offer something to honor her memory. The queen had been my aunt, after all.

The power was new to me, something I hadn’t tried. I had manipulated life, things preexisting. But I’d never created anything before. With gentleness in my thoughts, I bade the ground open up just enough for two living rose vines to emerge and cover her effigy. The blossoms were each as big as a man’s hand and pure white. I had to take special care in crafting them, since there was no sunlight this far underground. But these wouldn’t require any, and their blossoms would never wither or fade. They would be as eternal as her memory.

Araxie appeared to be in much better spirits as we retraced our steps back to her chambers. She had a calm smile on her face and a more confident spring in her step. That blissful expression reminded me somewhat of my own mother. It made me miss her fiercely.

We had almost made it back to the library. The night sounds of the jungle still echoed through the cavernous stone halls of the palace. Without being able to see what might be lurking behind the next corner, I kept my senses on alert for anything that might be a threat.

But something else reached out and grabbed at my brain, instead. I stopped and stood perfectly still so I could be sure.

When Araxie went to walk on ahead of me, I reflexively grabbed her arm to stop her. She looked at me with a puzzled grin, at first. Maybe she thought I was playing around. My expression must have tipped her off that this wasn’t a game because her smile faded and her eyes grew wide.