THE GRÁMED DEVICE PINCHES MY head like a vice. All I can see is the faint blue light of Cara’s watch as she aims it at the ground before us. I follow her toward the courtyard’s gate and try to memorize her movements as she taps her fingers against the wall.
The gate silently slides open, revealing a dimly lit pathway. Cara presses her hand against the gate before it opens all the way, then slips out through the foot-wide crack. “Come on. Quickly.”
I follow, hoping my mental resolution will calm my agitated body. If my deliberate breaths can’t slow my heartbeat, I might pass out before we make it half a mile. We follow the pathway for a minute or so. I struggle to keep up with Cara’s pace. My hair sticks to my face, and my dress clings to the sweat running down my back.
Cara draws to an abrupt stop at an intersection. The black streets, illuminated by the ice blue lights on the building walls, form an X before us. She checks around the corner, then turns. I run after her, wondering where she’s taking me.
She grabs my shoulder. “Lie down.” Her voice is a barely audible hiss. She flattens herself against the ground, and I follow suit, pressing my body against the cool, rough pavement.
A soft buzzing whirs above me. I glance up, but Cara grabs my head roughly and presses it down. Whatever the buzzing is, it must mean danger. I press my lips together, praying it will pass soon.
After a few minutes, the sound fades into the distance, and Cara pulls me up. “Let’s go.”
“What was that?” I pick up my pace to keep up with hers.
“Security drone. If one catches us, we’re dead.”
Apparently, the streets of Nathril have even more security than Papilio did. I follow Cara’s example and look around in every direction, checking for other drones.
We round a corner and dart down another street. Almost every window in the buildings we pass is dark. Were we in a different situation, I’d take the time to appreciate the alien city surrounding me—their strange yet elegant architecture, their foreign decorations, their otherworldly civilization.
Cara stops suddenly, and I freeze in time to keep from crashing into her. “There’s a fixed security camera ahead.” She jumps up and grabs the edge of a windowsill jutting from the building to our left. “Follow me, and whatever you do, don’t fall.”
She pulls herself up onto the windowsill, then reaches down toward me. Hoping I won’t need her assistance, I spring up with all my strength. Unfortunately, my barely more than five feet of height aren’t enough to let me climb up as she did. I grab her hand, and she hauls me up until I can grab the ledge myself.
A thin lattice design protrudes from the pale wall to our right. Cara presses her back against the window and inches along the side. She grabs the edge of one of the diamond-shaped designs, then climbs it like a ladder.
I swallow hard, wondering how I’m supposed to do the same. She climbs all the way up to a window on the third level, then stands on the ledge. From where I am, she’s so small and shadowed, I can barely see her motioning for me to follow.
The most I’ve climbed before tonight is a handful of backstage ladders. I didn’t think it was possible for my heart to beat any faster, but I guess I was wrong.
I approach the far side of the ledge I’m standing on and grab the edge of one of the protruding diamond shapes. Each diamond is only about three feet high, and I’m sure I could climb like Cara if I wanted to. If only my anxiety didn’t leave me paralyzed.
I take a moment to recall why I’m doing this. For Dámiul: the faraway prince who remains a mystery to me. Cara promised I’d meet someone who’d tell me everything about him, and I won’t let fear stop me. And for Milo: the best friend I left behind. Whoever I’m going to see, they might be able to help me get in touch with him.
If I could choose to send just one message, I don’t know who I’d pick. Before my encounter with Master Ydaya, I would have said Milo. As much as I yearn for Dámiul’s presence, at least he didn’t seem broken. But after seeing that holovid and hearing what the Ydayas said about him, I’m no longer sure.
A delinquent, they called him. Someone who betrayed his family. He must have been working against his father’s schemes. But what was he doing? And where is he being sent?
The memory of him bound in the Hall of Justice, his eyes glistening, hounds me. No matter how tall he stands, I can see the vulnerability beneath. I saw it at Papilio, when he confessed that I was his sanctuary, and I saw it in his eyes as he stood before the harsh, faceless judges.
He needs me too, wherever he is. Maybe even more than Milo does.
My only hope of finding either of them is by following Cara, so I grab the edge of the lattice and jump up.
The climb takes more strength than I expected. My arms ache under the strain as I pull myself up, and my legs protest as I use them in ways they’re unaccustomed to. If I thought I was sweaty before, I must not have seen the worst yet. I’m glad the lattice is made out of something akin to concrete. It’s the only thing letting me keep my grip.
I catch a glimpse of the street below me. It seems desperately far. If I lose my grasp for just an instant, I’ll end up a blood-splattered mess.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to force myself to stop trembling. I can do this. I pull myself onto the next diamond, ignoring the objections in both my body and mind. By the time I reach Cara’s level, I’m so exhausted, I almost want to fall forward onto the pavement below.
Cara raises her eyebrow at me. “What took you so long?”
“Haven’t… done this before.” My words rush between gasps. “Sorry… just need a moment.”
She leans against the window behind her. “Fine.” I can sense her rolling her eyes.
Irritated, I draw a new breath. “I’ll be faster next time, okay?”
A pause. “Sorry, didn’t mean to be a bitch.” Even in the dim light, I can make out the slight smile angling Cara’s mouth. “You’re actually doing all right. I lost my grip my first time up. Would’ve fallen if it weren’t for Alan.”
My annoyance fades. “Alan?”
“Yeah. He’s the one who showed me everything I know—how to break out of the dorms after curfew, how to escape the Ka’risil quarters, how to get to the underground hideout we’re heading for.”
My legs feel like jelly, and I sink down on the window ledge. “Is this the same Alan who was my predecessor?”
Cara sits beside me. “Yeah. He was part of the original quartet, along with Temir and Andreas. I was brought in because their previous second violinist died suddenly, and they needed a quick replacement. I never quite meshed with the Ka’risil culture, and Alan introduced me to the people we’re going to meet.”
“What happened to him?”
Cara’s expression darkens. “The Ydayas attended a Papilian Spectacle. They were originally going to get a dancer, but then Mistress Ydaya saw this brilliant little violist she just had to have. She didn’t want to wait in case someone else snapped you up. So she sent Alan into retirement to make room for you. I never got to say goodbye.”
I bite my lip. “Is that why you hate me?”
“I don’t hate you.” Cara’s voice emerges as a disgruntled grumble. “I just… well, you were the reason I lost someone who was like a father to me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. How the hell could you have known? You thought you had no choice. So did I. So did all of us.” She stands. “You ready to go?”
I rise. “Yes.”
Cara climbs across the latticed wall to the next window, which looks so far away, it might as well be on a different building. I draw a breath and follow her.
Dámiul mentioned that forgotten underground buildings lay beneath Nathril—a dark, winding labyrinth of dusty corridors lined with doors that look old enough to crumble. Some are illuminated by lights, filled with glowing blue chemicals, that remained in place long after there was no one left who’d need to see by them. Others appear so black, you might as well be blind. I never imagined I’d be running through them someday.
By the time we reach a wide, brown door in the wall, my lungs feel ready to burst. Cara kicks the door three times, then knocks in a rhythmic pattern. A few seconds pass, and then the door starts sliding down into the ground, surprisingly soundless for something that looks so thick and bulky.
“Here we are,” Cara says.
Though I still don’t know where exactly we are, Cara’s said enough for me to glean that it’s a hideout of some kind whose location is only known by a few. A special knock doesn’t exactly seem like top-notch security. “Couldn’t anyone stumble upon this place?” I ask her.
“Probably, but all they’d find is a boring door they can’t open. One that looks no different from the thousands of other doors in Nathril’s vast, abandoned underground.” Cara squints at the doorframe. “There’s also a hidden camera that shows the people inside who’s knocking, and someone’s always keeping watch. I know what you’re thinking, though. You were expecting a hideout on a tech-filled planet to have more sophisticated security, weren’t you?”
I nod in response.
“Well, so would the people these guys are hiding from.” Cara gestures at the widening gap. “Machines can be traced and hacked, and if anyone spotted a security scanner or anything in a building that’s supposed to be abandoned, they’d get suspicious. So these guys rely on the power of camouflage to keep from being discovered.”
Before I can ask who “these guys” are, the door finishes its journey into the ground, and Cara spins away from me to enter the large, rectangular room, illuminated by flat sheets of yellow light that cover its low ceiling. The stained concrete walls and dirty floor remind me of Dogwood’s tenements, and a musty smell drifts toward me.
Cara cups her hands by her mouth. “Atikéa? You here? I brought her this time!”
A high-pitched creaking sound grates on the air, and I cover my ears. A door on the far side of the room sinks into the floor.
A young woman strides out, her purple eyes glowing beneath ragged white bangs. Her smooth, sienna skin sharply contrasts her snowy locks. A second Adryil follows her. My eyes widen at the sight of him.
Slender, yet broad-shouldered. Thick, black hair. Glowing azure eyes. But his face is slightly older and somewhat on the long side, and he lacks the intensity that seems inherent in Dámiul. Yet he’s definitely not the same man I saw in the sign—not only is he too young, but he looks altogether narrower. He appears somewhat nervous, but his mouth is pressed in the same firm line I’m so used to seeing on Dámiul’s face.
The Adryil woman stops before me and puts her hands on her hips. “You’re Iris Lei?” Her voice is a firm alto.
“Yes.” I force my gaze toward her. “Who are you?”
“Atikéa Laksol.” She offers me her hand.
“Atikéa. It’s nice to meet you.” I take her hand, but can’t keep my gaze from wandering back to the Dámiul lookalike.
Atikéa releases her grip. “Is there something behind me?”
I try to focus on her purple gaze, but the man’s face distracts me. “I’m sorry. It’s just… he reminds me of someone I know.”
The man steps forward. “Who?”
I glance at Cara, unsure of what to say. Cara gives me a nod.
“Dámiul Verik,” I say.
The man knits his thick eyebrows in an expression so similar to Dámiul’s, it fills my heart with yearning. “How do you know Dámiul?” He even has Dámiul’s accent.
“How do you know him?” The question escapes my lips. I realize too late how rude and confrontational it seems, but I have to know.
The man gives me an appraising look. “I’m his older brother, Jaerin.”
My heart skips with excitement. Dámiul’s brother—and Master Verik’s other son. The answers I seek are at last within reach. “Where is he? Can I see him?”
“No.” Jaerin’s expression fills with sadness, and he looks down. “I know where he is, but by now, he’s probably lost to us.”