Eira had been expecting the guards to sound gruffer, harsher. So she wasn’t surprised when she turned and found herself face-to-face with another young woman, rather than one of the knights. The woman
was about Eira’s height, slightly shorter. Her cropped, golden hair was gray from all the soot.
“Who are you, and why are you here?” she whispered eagerly.
“I…I reported to the wrong location.” Eira looked to the wall, pulling back her pickaxe.
The woman caught it by the handle. “I wouldn’t do that. While it usually takes magic force to trigger flash beads…strong enough brute impact can trigger the shale. And I’d rather keep my flesh on my bones.”
Eira slowly eased her pickaxe down. She was solidly caught. Perhaps trying to get the lay of the land by assimilating herself was the wrong choice. But the woman hadn’t reported her yet, so that was a triumph.
“I’m Mel. You?”
“Hannah,” Eira lied. Giving her real name, even knowing it was extremely unlikely for anyone to have heard of her, felt far too dangerous.
Mel glanced over her shoulder and leaned in. “Are you with Slip? Did he send you?”
Eira had a second to weigh her options and, with barely any thought at all, she gave a nod. Thanks to Varren, she knew enough about Slip to craft a lie about knowing him. And Slip was on the side of those imprisoned here. So allying herself with him could be a boon.
“I knew he hadn’t deserted us!” Mel kept looking over her shoulder, her words low and hasty. “We should keep working. Let’s talk more when they take us back to the barracks.”
Eira followed Mel’s lead. The pickaxes were only used to carve out stone around the veins of shale. Once the shale was exposed, they carefully extracted it using only chisels and hands. Eira had to pry sheets free with her fingers. The thin layers of rock dug under her nails and cut into her skin. But she knew better than to cry out. Weakness would be met with cruelty.
When she delivered her deposits to the mine carts in the center of the cavern, Eira studied the knights from the corners of her eyes. But they paid her no mind. She was one of many. Another faceless, nameless worker. They didn’t concern themselves with recognizing her or not. Her gaze shifted down the railings underneath the cart, over the lip of the open side of the cavern. Deep in the depths of the mine must be where the shale was refined into beads.
After about an hour, a horn echoed. None of the other laborers stopped, so Eira didn’t either, until the knights begrudgingly shuffled into motion.
“Line up!” one of them barked, somehow both sounding authoritative and bored at the same time.
They did as they were told. One or two other prisoners looked twice at Eira, squinting as if they weren’t sure if they’d seen her before. But the majority paid her no mind. It was reassuring, in a way, to know it was so easy to slip into the masses. She hoped her friends had been able to do the same elsewhere. But it was also an ominous indication of the truth of this place.
The people were treated like livestock. Interchangeable. There was no point for the guards to know their names or faces…no point for them to learn each others’, either. A person going missing was treated with the same nonchalance as a new person showing up.
It didn’t matter. None of this mattered…
Because they were all regarded as dead anyway.
Eira’s hand balled into a fist as she shuffled off with the rest of them. She knew what she’d told her friends—what was true. This wasn’t their place. Their fight. The systems that resulted in this brutality ran far deeper than they could touch. Even killing the operator of the mines wouldn’t result in them stopping; another person would come in and take his place. The cycle would continue.
But that wasn’t going to stop it from being immensely satisfying to cut the man down from the ankles up. And, with any luck, they could somehow cripple the mines in the process. At least for a little while…
Led through the tunnels, they joined up with other lines of prisoners as they continued downward along one of the pathways that lined the main hole. Eira found herself drawing in a slow breath with the rest of them as they emerged into the open air. Even though the cavern they’d been working in had been open on one side, the air within had hardly any movement. The hole itself wasn’t much better. The heat of the day still clung to the back of her neck, settling in this forsaken pit. But seeing the stars offered marginal relief.
At almost the lowest point in the mine was a large plateau. This was where all the prisoners were shuffling. Eira kept looking for signs of Cullen or Alyss—she had little hope of spotting Ducot as a mole—but her other friends were nowhere to be seen. She scanned the towers above, specifically the southernmost one, but didn’t see any indications of Olivin, Noelle, or Yonlin either.
They were fine, she insisted to herself. They were all capable. All well trained and had the sense to make the right decisions in any moment. They had put their trust in her, and she returned it by putting her trust in them.
The prisoners were herded into a large mass, walled in by knights around them. All focus was on a platform ahead where three men stood. Two were also knights, though they had long, red feathers sticking from the crown of their helmets. The man in the middle was dressed in a tightly tailored jacket and trousers. Both done in a satin as vibrant as a bloody sunrise. A silken black sash was pinned across his chest. His light brown hair and sharp eyes were a contrast to the rich colors of his clothing.
Her skin prickled into gooseflesh and the hairs on the back of Eira’s neck raised. There was something deeply unnatural about having so many people standing so still. So silent. She found her own breathing was shallow. Her muscles tense from holding herself in place so that not even the soles of her shoes would disturb the gravel.
Without needing to be told, she knew that the slightest movement or whispered word would result in death.
“Her Imperial Majesty, holder of runic lore, keeper of sacred knowledge, defender of Carsovia, has informed me to commend you all on your recent successes,” he said with authority. Eira suspected this was the
Salveus she was after. “Your ability to double output of these mines is of great service to maintaining the safety of our lands from the brutal nations that claw at our borders and would seek to kill Carsovia’s young with their viciousness.”
Brutal nations? Did he mean Meru? Solaris? Before Princess Vi made proper contact with Meru, all the writings on the Crescent Continent—its former name for those on Solaris—were of how it was a backwards and untamed place. But the moment trade was opened, Solaris realized the truth of how wrong they had been. Eira glanced at the people around her, the tired faces.
Was this what they had been told their whole lives? These stories of how the outside world was determined to kill them? So far as Eira knew, Carsovia was the aggressor.
Unless…that too was a lie?
“Our great protector has learned of a plot for them to storm our beaches. To take our land. For this reason, she is seeing that we are well prepared. If you are able to triple the output, you will all have your sentences lessened by ten years.”
A few gasps. Murmurs. The knights shifted, glancing at the man on the stage, but the excitement seemed to be allowed. Eira could see the gleam in Salveus’s eyes. He was dangling a false hope. She could see it because her body was not weighted with exhaustion; her eyes had seen the unbroken sun only a few hours ago.
But these people were blind to that truth. Too clouded by the dust and dinginess of the mines to see clearly.
“Now, even though you are disloyal and unworthy, Her Majesty is gracious and forgiving. Tonight you shall all receive an extra portion of bread to give fuel to tomorrow’s labors.” Salveus turned, starting down the other side of the platform. The knights condensed in front of it. Though none of the prisoners made a move for the man.
Instead, they slowly trudged to the back, where bread was being passed out. Eira followed the group, Mel still at her side. The line arced around the plateau and Eira caught a glimpse of the deepest point of the mines—where all the tracks led. Just as Varren had said, the flash shale was being broken down and refined. Two channels were built into the rock on either side of the opening and Eira caught a glimpse of a large metal door that could slide across the channels. Protection? Guarding from the elements?
She had to keep moving before she could inspect for too long. When they were up at the main table, they were each handed two scant pieces of bread. Hardly enough to even take the edge off the hunger that Eira was already feeling.
“This way.” Mel guided them to the back wall, far from the knights. They sat on the ground, leaning against the cool stone. Mel’s head tipped up toward the stars above. She spoke softly between small nibbles of the bread. “Are you really going to get me out of here?”
“I’m going to do my best.” There was a twinge of pain in Eira’s chest about the idea of lying to her. Perhaps she could get Mel out. Maybe more of them. She could tell her about the tunnel and maybe Mel could help Slip…though that might put Slip at risk. Or, if Slip was gone, she could be the new Slip, if she wanted. “But first, there’s somewhere I have to go tonight.”
“Where?”
“A small errand,” Eira said cryptically. She didn’t dare say her true intentions, not even to a woman who should want Salveus dead more than Eira. “I need to make sure the way out is safe,” she added so that Mel didn’t suspect anything or ask too many questions.
“Of course. How many can you bring?”
“Just you, for now.” Eira leaned in. “It’s probably safest we keep this between us.”
“Right. Right…” Mel looked up to the sky with a slight smile. She couldn’t be much older than Eira. Maybe only by three or five years. Maybe she was younger and this place had aged her far beyond her natural years. “I’ve been here for six years now…I wonder if I’ll even know how to live outside these walls. I wonder if Grendyl waited for me…”
“A lover?” Eira asked softly.
Mel nodded. “We were engaged to be wed, before I ended up here.” “What happened?”
“I was a baker, an artisan of bread at the imperial winter palace. I was one of the best bakers in all of Carsovia…I never found out how the poison got in the loaf for Her Majesty.” Mel’s voice hollowed. Her expression relaxed, going blank. It was impossible to read. Grief? Pain? Or…was she trying to hide her lingering joy and frustration at nearly killing the empress of this land but not quite succeeding or getting away from it? “All my assistants were killed. But my skills made me too valuable to kill. So, in all
her mercy, Her Majesty sent me here for reformation and repentance with the hope of one day returning.”
Eira chewed over the story, gnawing on the stale, hard bread with her thoughts. Varren had been wrongfully imprisoned here. Mel, on the other hand, faced a punishment for an actual crime. Eira couldn’t imagine even Solaris would be lenient on someone who tried to kill the empress. Though, it didn’t sound like Carsovia’s empress inspired loyalty or love, only fear.
“Thank you for sharing.” Eira ultimately returned to the notion that these weren’t her struggles, so they weren’t her place for judgment.
Mel shrugged. “Thank you for listening.”
There wasn’t time for further discussion. The knights blew their horns again and everyone stood. They continued their tired march into a large cavern that was used as the barracks.
The squalor was staggering. There were no beds, no bunks. People slept on piles of refuse. Scraps of clothing that Eira suspected were long without owners. The ceiling was singed by smoke from the braziers that burned in the center of the room.
Mel guided Eira to her place as a fight broke out to their left. Judging from the shouted arguments, the two men couldn’t seem to agree on who had a tattered cloak the night before. They resorted to fists. No one stepped in. They passed countless people laid out, exhausted from the day.
A woman with sharp hazel eyes, almost yellow, stared at Eira with near recognition as she passed. She drew her scarred hands into her sleeves, narrowing her hungry gaze. Eira didn’t allow her attention to linger, certain she’d never met the woman before.
They settled down on one side, by the wall.
“When night falls, I’m going to step away,” Eira whispered. “But I’ll come back for you.”
“They’re going to find you, if you do,” Mel whispered back.
“I don’t have one of these.” Eira tapped the shackle on Mel’s wrist and gave a slight smile. “I’ll be fine.” Her long sleeves hid the lack of magical binding.
“Right…” Mel glanced to the entrance of the cavern—a short tunnel that connected back to the main plateau they’d eaten at. “Let me at least make a distraction for you?”
“Mel—”
“Please?” Mel gave her a piercing stare. She had more fire to her eyes than Eira had seen so far from any of them. “I don’t want to be a useless bystander to my own rescue. I want to help.”
“All right.” Eira sighed. She could sympathize with the feeling, it probably would help, and she couldn’t exactly stop Mel without drawing attention to herself. “But please be careful.”
Mel nodded.
The room settled to sleep. Eira lay facing Mel, wide awake even though her eyes were closed. In the growing silence, her mind wandered.
Where were the rest of her friends? A lump was growing in her throat. They were either all too good at being hidden…or something was going horribly wrong.
A tap on her hand had Eira cracking her eyes open, meeting Mel’s. “Now?” she whispered.
“Sure.”
Mel gave a slight, eager smile. “Thank you for your help.” “Thank you for yours.”
Mel pushed herself off the mound of clothes they’d been stretched out on and began making her way to the entrance, carefully stepping over the sleeping bodies of others. Eira rolled onto her other side so she could watch Mel, scanning those around her in the process. She’d draw her magic, go invisible and—
“Eira,” Alyss whispered from seemingly nowhere. Eira sat, looking around.
“Here.” The voice was coming from the wall by her head. Eira lay back down. There was a tiny hole, barely visible in the natural curves and dips of the rough rock. Alyss’s eyes gleamed up at her. “Were you captured?”
“No, I’m fine,” Eira whispered back. “Relieved to see you are as well.” “Took a page out of Ducot’s book and decided to be a mole.” There was
the hint of a grin in her voice. “It’s been slow getting around though, making sure they don’t sense me and I don’t destabilize anything…”
“Any sign of Ducot or Cullen?” Eira asked.
“No.” That could be good or bad. “Want me to get you out of here?”
Eira considered it. She went to look over her shoulder to see what Mel’s status was on the distraction. At the same moment, Alyss let out a sharp gasp.
The long, cold barrel of a flashfire pressed against Eira’s temple. A rune flared ominously on the ring the knight wore on his thumb—hovering just above what Eira easily assumed was the ignition point of the flashfire’s handle.
A sinister smile curled his lips. “Don’t. Move.”
