When we had finished, Tejus walked back to the narrow passageway.
“Wait here for me, please. I don’t want you going in there alone again,” he said, as he crouched down as far as he could to get into the doorway.
“But Benedict—”
“I know,” he interjected, “but it’s not safe.”
I stood back, allowing him to go in alone. I leaned against the other side of the hallway wall with Yelena, and we waited for Tejus to re-emerge.
“How are you holding up?” I asked her softly, taking her cold, small hand in mine.
“I want to go home,” she whispered back to me, leaning her head on my shoulder. “I’m frightened.”
I nodded, not knowing what to say to comfort her. Maybe just listening was enough. I was profoundly grateful to Yelena, that she’d done what she had—following him, all alone, when it must have terrified the life out of her. I wondered if the message on the wall was specifically for her, and hoped to God that it wasn’t.
Yelena moved closer toward me. “If I fall asleep, you won’t leave me here, will you?”
“No, of course not,” I croaked. “Go to sleep. I’ll wake you if anything happens.”
Tejus was taking too long already. Why hadn’t he come out? As Yelena curled up in a ball on the floor, I approached the doorway and peered into the depths—just in time to see Tejus, hunched down and walking toward me. I took a step back to let him pass, and he emerged from the passage.
He straightened up, his face thoughtful and preoccupied for a few moments before he focused on me, raising his hands to gently squeeze my upper arms.
“Hazel?” was all he said. But the question asked a million unsaid things like, ‘how are you holding up,’ ‘what do you need,’ and most importantly—‘do you trust me?’
“What’s the plan?” I asked shakily. I could tell that Tejus was thinking something through, that he had an idea forming in his mind he wasn’t entirely sure would work.
“If Benedict can cross that castle barrier, it means there’s a break in it,” he muttered, releasing my arms and beginning to pace up and down the hallway.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“Sometimes, when sentries create barriers, their intention is to have the ability to pass through them when no one else can. To do this, they must create a break in the barrier—a place where it can be opened and closed repeatedly,” he replied.
I nodded. “I get that, but obviously we can’t open it, can we?”
“Alone, no, but it’s the weakest area of the barrier. Think of it like a piece of ceramic; one hairline crack, no matter how small, and the entire creation is fallible. I believe that if we use all of the ministers we have available, and my guards, we will be able to open the barrier around the castle.”
This was good news. If the barriers re-opened, we wouldn’t have to wait for Benedict to return—we could go out and find him ourselves.
“Let’s do it,” I said. “How long till we can start?”
“There’s one drawback. We will need to wait for Benedict to reappear—it’s the only way that we can be sure we’ll be attacking the barrier when it’s at its weakest,” he replied, warily waiting for my reaction.
“But we have no idea when he’ll be back!” I cried. “We don’t know for sure if he’ll even be back. What if he can’t get through again?”
“We have to assume that his threat to return is genuine—and as the human child said, this isn’t the first time that he has done this, and he’s always been back before.” Tejus sighed deeply, and looked away from me. “If an entity of some kind is controlling him, then I have no doubt that he will be able to re-enter the castle. He’s obviously being used to manipulate the stones in some way.”
The thought made me feel sick—but only because it was being voiced for the first time…I had also thought it was likely that it was the entity who was controlling my brother. I just didn’t want it to be true. Though our reading hadn’t helped us much with the details, the one thing that all the dead ministers had agreed on was how truly powerful this creature was.
Tejus continued to pace up and down the hallway, still ruminating on his plan.
“What do we do in the meantime?” I asked quietly.
Tejus glanced over at Yelena, fast asleep on the floor.
“We gather everyone here—and we wait till Benedict shows himself. But…” He hesitated. “If the ministers are going to have the best chance they possibly can, they need more energy. They’ve been working on the barriers for the last twelve hours, and they are all drained. I was thinking that perhaps we could use the human children…for the ministers to syphon off them.”
I froze, not entirely sure whether he was joking or not. Of course he’s not. After my initial, kneejerk reaction, I knew in my heart that I would agree to this—I would agree to whatever it took to save Benedict…but those kids. They’d already been through so much.
They’ll never go home if the barriers aren’t opened, I thought. It was true, maybe, but we hadn’t even really begun to look at alternative options. Was it absolutely necessary for them to experience the pain of syphoning, after they’d been promised they’d be safe now? An idea flickered into my mind.
“Say I agree to this,” I said slowly. “I want to teach them—the kids and the ministers—to do it the way that you and I can, throwing their energy out, so it doesn’t hurt so much.”
Tejus looked at me, raising his eyebrows. “I’m not entirely sure that’s going to work—I don’t know if they will be able to manage that the way you can.”
I shook my head. “It’s worth a try at least, and these kids have been chosen because of their strong minds, just as we were. They know enough about the supernatural world now to have had their minds broadened.”
He still looked doubtful.
“Tejus, I don’t want to put them through any more pain. Please,” I begged.
Eventually Tejus smirked.
“Hazel, do you ever only think of yourself?”
I was stunned by the question. I had thought that so many of my actions lately had been selfish—putting my needs before others, especially my brother’s.
“I do, more than you know,” I whispered back.
When it comes to you, I am completely selfish.
“I find that hard to believe,” he murmured, looking into my eyes. His eyes looked hooded and dark, and for just a moment it was only Tejus and I in the hallway, the rest of the castle and my problems a million miles away from here.
“You don’t know me well enough,” I replied, my breath hitching.
“You’re wrong. I see you, Hazel Achilles.” He smiled sadly. “Sometimes you’re all I see.”
I stared at him, a tight fluttering in my chest that stopped me taking a breath. After a beat, he averted his gaze and cleared this throat.
“We will teach them, I promise. I’ll call them all here. It won’t take long,” he reassured me.
“I’ll collect the kids,” I replied, readjusting my head space swiftly—away from Tejus—and refocusing on the task ahead of us.
Tejus
I had never felt less in control.
I might have been crowned as ruler of Hellswan days ago, but it meant next to nothing. Whatever this ‘entity’ was, the creature had me incapacitated—helpless against its power, not even able to leave my own castle. My people were at its mercy, and the red rains were only the beginning of the horror that we would face. I had witnessed my father rule this land, and the rest of the kingdoms, for decades of peace; then I had taken the crown and Nevertide had descended into disruption and darkness. Had my father had the presence of mind to speak to my brothers and I about the entity—to put his ego aside for just a few moments to tell us that his land was built on fragile standing, that we were potentially on borrowed time—I would be able to forgive him now. But as I raged against the entity, I raged against my father in equal measure.
A traitor to his people.
Tha
t was his epitaph. All I would remember of him. He had betrayed us all—and I was left to clean up the mess.
I thought about what Hazel had said earlier, about Jenus possibly knowing more about the entity than I did. It wasn’t unlikely. As soon as the borders around the castle were down, I would seek the wretched shell of my brother out in the hope that he had answers.
It wasn’t just in my role of king that I felt helpless.
Since the night of the coronation, I had vowed to push Hazel away, to make it clear we had no future, nothing that we could possibly share. Then I would see her for just a moment, she would say something, make me want to laugh—and all my willpower would crumble to dust, and I would find myself transfixed. Unable to shut out the constant pull toward her, like an eternal orbit, circling one another until one of us would relent and in a moment of honesty we would grow closer, making it even harder to turn her away the next time.
“They are all ready,” one of my guards announced.
I turned away from the window to see the hallway full of sentries all sitting, cross-legged, in a line through the hallway. Behind them, the human children sat with their backs against the wall. They all looked pale and small, and I could hardly believe that these were the chosen tools of my competitors in the trials.
Hazel stood by the entrance to the passageway. More torches had been placed inside to line the dark tunnel, and their glow flickered across her pale skin. Her dark hair gleamed with hues of gold and red from the flames, and suddenly I could believe that she originated from supernatural beings. I had never seen a creature so otherworldly, so heartbreakingly calm in the face of her sorrow.
I walked slowly toward her, not wanting to disturb her till I had to.
“Hazel?” I interrupted as I approached.
She turned her large eyes up to meet mine. They were red-rimmed and her mouth was tightly pinched as she tried to hold her emotions in check. She had never looked more beautiful.
“They’re ready. We should begin.” My voice was hoarse, and I clenched my fists at my sides to repress the urge to take her in my arms and offer what little comfort I could.
She nodded, and I turned to the waiting sentries and children.
“You all know why we’re here. The borders can open tonight, with your help. However, we will need the help of the humans in order to accomplish our task. In return for their help—willingly given”—I smiled briefly at the little blue-eyed girl who had followed Benedict and been instrumental in rounding up the assistance of the children—“I want them to have the least painful experience possible.”
The ministers started to whisper among themselves, as predicted.
“There is a way,” I insisted. “A way for the humans to push out their energy voluntarily, for you to receive. Not only is it less painful for the humans, but the syphoning is also far more effective when they’re not in pain and trying to resist.”
There was silence for a while, and then Lithan spoke.
“We are willing to be taught,” he announced, and the rest of the ministers nodded their agreement.
“Good. Hazel and I will provide a demonstration.”
I turned to Hazel, and she gave me a small smile.
“Thank you,” she whispered, out of the ministers’ hearing. “I know you didn’t have to.”
I nodded, feeling uncomfortable taking her gratitude. Had it not been a more effective method of syphoning, I probably wouldn’t have.
“Let’s take this slowly,” I murmured back. “We should try our hardest to stay here so we can continue to give instructions. Do you think you can?”
“I’ll try,” she affirmed.
I gestured for her to sit down, and I positioned myself opposite. Our fingers brushed as we moved closer in the now cramped space of the hallway. I clenched my jaw, and briefly shut my eyes to shut down the instantaneous effect she’d just had on every cell in my body.
“Hazel starts,” I announced to the group, “and pushes her energy out toward me.”
“It’s like meditating,” Hazel informed the group. “Try to get rid of all the thoughts in your head, pushing them outward. Try to picture the person you’re going to be partnered with, and send whatever’s in your head toward them.”
I felt her energy fill up the space between us, and then I mentally reached out to grasp onto it. I explained what I was doing as best I could. Never having had to put any form of syphoning into words before, it was difficult. What was I to say? It’s like coming home, like having an anchor when you thought you were the only being in the world unbound to another.
“Try to visualize the bond,” I murmured to our audience, “as something solid and unbreakable.”
I marveled at how easily Hazel and I could now practice this. The ‘rope’ that we habitually visualized formed strong and vivid almost instantly. This was the point when we would usually vanish into one another’s memories, but I tried with everything I had to stay in the present, and I could feel Hazel doing the same.
Hold on, Hazel.
I kept speaking to the sentries, and I could vaguely hear her doing the same thing—the soft murmur of her voice started to meld with mine. I could feel myself slipping away…
An image flickered in my mind. It was of Hazel. She was standing on the tower of the castle, the wind whipping at her hair and her dress. She was looking at me and smiling. The landscape behind her was bright, clear blue skies and fresh, easterly winds that brought the smell of pine with them. Hellswan hadn’t looked like this in a long time, not since before the death of my mother.
This is wrong—get back…
I didn’t want to. I stepped toward her, inhaling her scent among the forest’s aroma. I was lost. She opened her mouth to say something, but though her mouth formed the shape of words, no sound came out. I moved closer, brushing my hands around her waist to pull her closer. She stopped smiling, staring solemnly up at me.
“I wish I could save you from myself,” I whispered to her.
“You can’t,” she replied. “It’s too late.”
I traced one of my hands up her spine and grasped her hair, pushing her face upward to meet mine. Our lips met. Her mouth was warm and silk-soft, and she tasted like apples. I groaned, wrapping her closer toward me, utterly unable to let her go. Our kiss intensified, my body pushing toward hers as her fingers wound around the back of my neck. Her response prompted a heady mix of lust, desire and urgency to completely consume her—there would never be enough time in my lifetime to get my fill of Hazel.
The image started to flicker, the stone of the tower starting to shake beneath our feet.
Hazel broke our kiss.
“We have to return,” she breathed.
“I can’t.”
She smiled at my echo of her own words a few moments earlier.
The image juddered and spun, the tower seeming to crumble as the skies of Hellswan turned black. The connection was broken, and an icy reality washed over me.
I opened my eyes to see the familiar hallway and Hazel seated on the floor, looking at me, horrified, her cheeks bright red. I dared turn my face toward the waiting sentries, but they all just continued to look at us with polite interest.
I cleared my throat.
“So, that is how it is done… Are there any questions?” I asked.
“It appeared that your heart rate increased dramatically during the syphoning process—is that usual? Are we in danger of heart complications or extreme stress during the exercise?” Quentos’s reedy voice cut across the silence.
I repressed a smirk, and felt Hazel’s foot nudge mine angrily.
“It’s nothing you can’t handle, Quentos. The effects vary, you’ll be fine.”
A few more questions were asked on the logistics of the process—some from the ministers and guards, some from the older children, which Hazel answered, her blush slowly receding as she gave details of the syphoning in a detached manner.
Once the demonstration was over, I helped Hazel up to her f
eet and she allowed herself a small smile in my direction.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she murmured.
“That makes two of us,” I replied, as we walked away from the group. “You should get some rest. There’s nothing you can do until Benedict gets here—both of us are going to be needed to open the barriers.”
“I know, but I don’t think I can rest,” she muttered, chewing on her lip.
“You have to. You’ve been up too long. You can stay close—I thought you could use the Imperial bedroom.” It was closer than both the human quarters and mine.
Hazel looked back at the group of sentries.
“Okay,” she agreed.
We walked the length of the hallway, Hazel averting her eyes from her brother’s words written on the wall, and then we continued in silence till we reached my father’s chambers. I had asked the servants to light the fire earlier so that the room would be warm. Since his death I had visited the room once to look for the book the ministers had mentioned, but had been unable to find it. It seemed musty and stale, like the air had stayed still since its sole inhabitant had passed away.
“Will you be all right here?” I asked Hazel, wondering if she found it as claustrophobic as I did.
“I’ll be okay… It’s just weird being in this room.”
I watched as she moved toward the bed. She gingerly sat on it, running her hands over the bedspread.
“Did you have any more ideas on the cause of his death?” she asked suddenly.
I hadn’t thought about it in a while. There had been so many other distractions that I had abandoned my original investigation, which had led me to believe the kitchen boy was my key suspect, but I had been unable to find any conclusive evidence with which to pin him down and hold him accountable.
“I’m not sure. I suppose the entity is now a possibility,” I mused out loud.
“You mean my brother?” she asked, her voice empty.
“It is not your brother, Hazel. Something is controlling him—and I doubt very much that your brother, even under manipulation, would have been able to end the life of the most powerful sentry in Nevertide.”