Ravenous (13 page)

“Why should I believe you?” Could this be a trick? I can't believe I might be related to that hateful man in any way.

He sticks his head and neck between the bars. Rust
comes off on his sallow, sunken cheekbones. “Because I worked for Ensel once. And his stepfather. I was the court adviser.”

“What happened? Why are you down here?”

He sighs. “The king didn't like my advice.”

“But my mother wasn't part of the court, not if she married a commoner.”

“No, but I knew her when she was a wee thing. And when she turned her back on her family for love.” He spits the word out, but something in his eyes suggests he approves. “She was the smart one. Got out and stayed low until she knew they'd have to run. Bryre would've been the perfect place. Large enough of a city to stay hidden, but well off enough that she'd feel at home.” He pulls back from the bars and settles onto the cold stone floor again. “And guarded well enough that Ensel and his lackeys would not pursue her.” He frowns. “Of course, they did find her eventually. Pity. I always liked her. Even with her unfortunate taste in husbands, she would have made a far better queen than Ensel ever was a king.”

My nails dig into my palms. I'm not fond of the way this stranger speaks about my father, like he's less than worthy.

He eyes me shrewdly for one who has been locked away for years in this awful dungeon. “You don't trust me, do you?” He shrugs. “Well go on, then, take a gander at the cell where they were held. You'll see for yourself.”

“Where?”

He points to the one diagonally across from him. “The three of us were quite cozy down here until their end.”

I shudder as I move to the unlocked cell across the corridor. A ratty discarded blanket lies in one corner, and loose stones litter the damp floor. Not much remains to prove anyone ever stayed in this cell. I nudge the blanket with the toe of my boot, then scrape it aside.

Shoved into the corner, and hidden by the seemingly tossed-aside blanket, is a folded-up letter.

“One of the guards took pity on her and snuck her some parchment. Mia always was good at making people like her. Except Ensel, of course.”

I pull the letter out, hardly able to breathe. I recognize the handwriting immediately.

It's definitely my mother's.

My knees sway, but I straighten my spine and tuck the letter into my pocket. I can't read this in front of him. I need space and time, and to be somewhere I'm not worried I'll be caught.

I need to get out of this awful place.

But then I pause. “What was the advice Ensel didn't like?”

“I advised him not to consort with wizards. The final straw was when I advised him not to hunt below the cliffs for the cornucopia. He found something else entirely, too, then threw me in here for being right.”

I frown. That explains why Ensel had a potion for breathing underwater.

“So he disturbed the Sonzeeki?” I muse.

“Oh yes. Now the beast returns each month to get back what Ensel stole. So many lives lost, when all Ensel had to
do was toss the cornucopia into the waves. He had enough treasure as it was.” He shakes his head. “But it will never be said Ensel was a reasonable man. More like a stubborn child who didn't like to share his toys.”

“Where is it now?” Desperation taints my voice.

The man plucks at his loose clothing. “Do you think I'd be so skinny if I knew that?”

I sigh as disappointment fills my gut. He has a point.

I remove one of the pins keeping my hair back, but the man waves me away before I can try to pick the lock.

“Thank you, but don't bother. This is Ensel's dungeon; the locks are spelled. Only the warden's keys can open them.”

“I'm sorry I don't have the keys to get you out.” I wish I did. But stealing them from the very awake band of mercenaries upstairs would be a suicide mission.

“I didn't expect you would.” His eyes glow in the darkness. “But it was nice to have someone to talk to for a while.”

“If I can find a way, I'll come back,” I say impulsively. I'm not even sure why. Perhaps I'm just grateful this man showed me a glimpse of my parents, even if the pain of it is sharper than knives.

He nods, not believing, and returns to a corner of his cell. With a heavy heart, hood up, and the letter in my pocket, I walk back through the dungeons.

WHEN I STEP OUT OF THE TUNNELS AND BACK INTO THE STREETS OF
Belladoma, my whole world has shifted. My mother once walked these roads too. She grew up in the castle over the cliff, never dreaming of what horror slept below the waves. She was stepsister to Ensel. Which makes him my stepuncle.

I clasp the locket in my hand. Maybe this wasn't a wedding present at all like my mother always told us. Maybe it's an heirloom from the Belladoman royal line. At the very least, it might have been a pity gift from a rich relative.

My skin shivers and sweats, and this time I can't hold back the nausea. Thankfully, I'm alone in this alley, and I get back to my feet quickly after emptying my stomach and shoving my still invisible cloak into my pack. But I cannot shake the prickling uncertainty that pursues me. The staring
faces from the windows. These were my mother's people. Did she know them? She never took on any airs in Bryre—did she go to the market here too? Do any of these people remember her? Could they tell me who she was before I was born?

I step into a street, keeping to the walls. The people around me, who hover in doorways, linger in windows, and stride down the streets, look different to me now. I can't help seeing things I didn't notice before. How the mothers keep their small children, mostly boys, close to their skirts. They hold on to their sons' tiny hands like they're the most precious things in the world. One little boy feeds a bit of his apple—a true prize in this place—to a stray dog. Husbands and wives embrace in greeting as they walk through doorways to their dilapidated homes, an emotion written on their faces that I never really believed they were capable of—love.

If this is the city that made my mother who she was, the mother I loved dearly, can it be as thoroughly evil as I've long considered it?

I wander the streets for hours, hunting for the ghosts of my parents, searching for them in every shadow and doorway, until dusky tendrils thread across the late-afternoon sky, like ink spilled on parchment. Like it's erasing everything I knew about my life and family. I thought my past was behind me. I thought I'd accepted the fact that Mama and Papa were gone and that I'd never know why.

Now that I've discovered they were here in Belladoma, I don't know how to handle it.

By the time I reach the crumbling barn I share with Dalen, I quiver from head to toe. Too many conflicting thoughts attack me from all sides. The letter from my parents burns a hole in my pocket. My fingers itch to unfold it and dive in headfirst.

And yet the thought of doing so ties my stomach into knots.

I close the creaking door behind me as quietly as possible. I don't want Dalen to see how affected I am by this.

But this is about family. This is about
me
.

I take a deep breath to pull myself together. I have faced down worse things.

I duck into the first stall of the barn and settle on the musty hay. I hear no sign of Dalen. Perhaps he's still angry.

With trembling fingers, I unfold the letter.

To my dearest children . . .
Unbidden, a plump tear falls and blotches the note. I slap my hand over my eyes, wiping it away viciously.

I will not cry.

You may wonder why we left you in such a hurry. It was by necessity, not choice. We didn't intend to leave at all, really. But I get ahead of myself. Let me explain. While your father is from the countryside that lies between Bryre and Belladoma, I never lived in Bryre until I married him. I grew up in Belladoma, which at the time was a shining jewel of a city by the sea. We traded with people inland and across the waves, the whole town a hub of international culture, of varied tongues and spices and wares. My own mother died when my brother and I were babies,
and my father remarried a woman who already had a young son. Her first husband had gone mad and leaped off Belladoma's cliff, leaving her rich and lonely. But my father was a kind soul, and she was lovely, and good with my brother and me too. The city rejoiced, for its king had a whole family again. Yes, I grew up in the palace, so different then from what it has become under my stepbrother, Ensel's, thumb. It was beautiful and full of light once; now it rots from the inside out.

Sometimes, I wish I'd never left Belladoma, despite the risks of staying. But that means I wouldn't have married your father, and would never have had you two, my dearest joys, in my life. You see, your father was a commoner. I met him one day in the forest, then I stole away there every chance I had to see him again. My father had plans to marry me to a prince from the kingdom over the sea, but once I knew your father, I couldn't stand the thought of marrying anyone else. We eloped, and when I returned to the palace, my father banished me from the city. My older brother, Erick, tried to intercede on my behalf, but to no avail.

Even then Ensel, my stepbrother, showed signs of being a bad seed, his father's madness passed down to him. Our cousin had died recently in a hunting accident. There were rumors he and Ensel had quarreled before they set off, but I ignored them at the time. Little did I know how he plotted to butcher his way to the throne. If I had, perhaps I would have fought harder to stay in Belladoma. But my heart was with your father, and while the banishment pained me, it wasn't the punishment my father had hoped.

We had a small cottage in the woods, and we loved it there.
It was outside Belladoma, so I could still see my city and occasionally my brother but not worry about the politics. And I never did. Not until we heard what Ensel had done.

He had spent his nights in taverns, drinking and dealing with every unsavory character in Belladoma. He made a deal with a band of mercenary soldiers from overseas, then proceeded to round up everyone with royal blood in the city. I began to worry when my brother didn't appear for his weekly visit, but it wasn't until days later, when your father came home from the market, that I discovered the truth.

My whole family was gone, and Ensel's mercenaries were hunting for us.

Greta and Hans, you were just a glimmer on the horizon then. We fled to the only safe place we could think of that we knew would take us in: Bryre. And when Ensel attacked, we were certain it was because he had gotten wind of where we were hidden. We were ready to stand and fight with our adoptive city, but as luck would have it, the wards the wizard set up kept him out.

For years, we believed we were safe in Bryre. We believed we could have children and live our lives in peace.

We were wrong.

The day we left Bryre, we had gone to a market an hour's walk away, and had every intention of returning home for supper. But while we were there, we were spotted by a man we recognized: Albin, the closest confidant of Ensel and captain of his guard, on some errand for his king. He recognized us too. We fled, then purchased weapons and doubled back to try to take him by surprise. We couldn't let him follow us back to
Bryre, not to you and your brother. Ensel would kill you both if he knew there were any living heirs to the throne of Belladoma. But Albin was craftier than us, and he had more men than we realized. He surrounded us, caught us, and brought us back to Belladoma. I don't know what will become of us here, though I presume Ensel will either let us rot for the rest of our lives or he'll throw us off the cliff as he has so many of Belladoma's children. It breaks my heart to see what's become of my city. I don't know whether you'll ever see this letter, or if you'll ever forgive us for abandoning you, however accidentally. But I had to put this down on paper just in case—if nothing else than to express our love to you both.

Your loving parents,

Mia and Bart

The sobs come, wracking my entire body, and I can't stop them. How long were they down there? They were caught many months before the wizard sent me to Belladoma, and Albin was that hateful man whom Kymera sent over the cliff.

Could my parents have been here, trapped, frightened, and filled with guilt for never being able to say good-bye, at the same time I was thrown into the dungeons for trying to escape our prison room? The thought is sickening. To be so close to them, and to have had no idea . . .

The sobs turn to chokes. I feel the breeze of the stall door opening, and the light touch of a soft, strong hand on my back. “Greta . . . ,” Dalen whispers, settling on the hay beside me.

In a moment of weakness, I throw my arms around his neck and cry into his shoulder. I have no family left but Hans. Really and truly. The faint hope I'd cherished that perhaps my parents were still alive, and that one day they might return, has burned to ash.

Dalen's arms fold around me, and he hums softly in my ear. Grateful he has the sense not to utter false words of comfort, I cling to my friend and cry until the darkness creeps over my eyes and sleep takes hold.