THE WALLS OF THE CELLAR close in. I’m trapped in this hell. It takes everything in me to stand, not to buckle under Father’s glare. But while I can barely breathe, Zélie rises. Defiant and fiery as ever.
No regard for her life.
No fear for her death.
Stop, I want to scream over her. Don’t talk!
With each word, Father’s desire to break her grows.
He pounds against the door. With two sharp knocks, the metal door flies open. The fortress physician walks in, flanked by three lieutenants; all fix their gazes on the floor.
“What’s going on?” My voice comes out hoarse. It’s hard to speak through the strain of suppressing my magic once more. Sweat pours down my skin as another blast of heated air funnels through the vent.
The physician glances at me. “Does Your Highness—”
“You’re under my orders,” Father interrupts. “Not his.”
The physician scurries forward, drawing a sharp knife from his pocket. I stifle a cry as he slices into Zélie’s neck.
“What’re you doing?” I yell. Zélie grits her teeth as the physician digs with his blade.
“Stop!” I shout in panic. Not now. Not here.
I start forward, but Father presses his hand into my shoulder so hard I nearly stumble. I watch in horror as the physician cuts a shallow X into Zélie’s neck. With an unsteady hand, he pushes a thick, hollowed-out needle into the exposed vein.
Zélie tries to jerk her head back, but a lieutenant holds it still. The physician removes a small vial of black liquid and prepares to pour the serum down the needle.
“Father, is this wise?” I turn to him. “She knows things. There are more artifacts. She can find them. She’s the only person who understands the scroll—”
“Enough!” Father’s grip on my shoulder tightens until it aches. I’m angering him now. If I keep going, he’ll only cause Zélie more pain.
The physician looks back at me, as if looking for a reason to stop. But when Father pounds his fist against the wall, the physician pours the serum through an opening in the hollow needle, feeding it straight into her vein.
Zélie’s body jerks and spasms. The serum releases under her skin. Her breaths go short and rapid. Her pupils grow large and dilated.
My own chest tightens as blood pounds inside my head.
And it’s only an echo of what they’re doing to her.…
“Don’t worry.” Father speaks, mistaking my grief for disappointment. “One way or another, she’ll tell us what she knows.”
Zélie’s muscles seize, rattling the chains. I press against the wall as my own thighs shake. I struggle to keep my voice even. Keeping calm is my only chance of saving her.
“What’d you give her?”
“Something to keep our little maggot awake.” Father smiles. “Can’t have her passing out before we get what we need.”
A lieutenant slides a dagger from his belt. Another rips Zélie’s dress, exposing the smooth skin of her back. The soldier holds the blade in the heat of the torch flames. The metal warms. Smoldering red.
Father steps forward. Zélie’s spasms intensify; so violent the two other lieutenants have to hold her down.
“I admire your defiance, child. It’s impressive you’ve made it this far. But I wouldn’t be doing my job as king if I didn’t remind you what you are.”
The knife sears into her skin with a fury so intense her agony leaks into me.
“ARGH!” A bloodcurdling scream rips from Zélie’s throat. Rips straight through my being.
“No!” I cry out, and run forward, plunging straight for the lieutenant.
I knock one of the guards holding Zélie back.
I kick the other in the gut.
My fist collides with the lieutenant carving into her back, but before I can do more Father shouts.
“Restrain him!”
Instantly, two guards latch onto my arms. The entire world blazes in white. The scent of burning flesh fills my nose.
“I knew you wouldn’t have the stomach for this.” Somehow Father’s disappointment cuts through the sound of Zélie’s shrieks. “Remove him,” he snaps. “Now!”
I feel Father’s command more than I hear it. Though I struggle forward, I’m pushed back. All the while, Zélie’s screams grow.
She only gets farther and farther away.
Her sobs and screams bounce against the metal walls. As her singed flesh cools, I make out the shape of an M.
And when Zélie’s breathing grows shallow, the lieutenant starts on the A.
“No!”
They throw me into the hallway. The door slams shut.
I pound so hard my knuckles split and bleed, but no one comes out.
Think! I ram my head against the door, blood pounding as her screams grow. I can’t get in.
I need to get her out.
I race along the corridor, but the distance does nothing to break the anguish. Concerned faces flash as I stumble past.
Lips move.
People speak.
I can’t make out their sounds over Zélie’s screams. Her shrieks ring through the door. They screech even louder in my head.
I crash into the nearest washroom and slam the door. Somehow, I latch the lock.
I can sense they’ve started on the G now; it’s as if the curve is etched into my own back.
“Ugh!”
I grasp the porcelain sink’s rim with shaking hands. Everything in me comes out. My throat stings from the burn of vomit.
The world spins around me, violent and thrashing. It’s all I can do not to pass out. I have to power through.
I need to get Zélie out—
* * *
I WHEEZE.
Cool air hits me like a brick to the face. It pulls the scent of wet grass into my lungs. Wilted reeds tickle my feet.
The dreamscape.
The realization brings me to my knees.
But I have no time to waste. I have to save her. I need to bring her to this place.
I close my eyes and picture her face. The haunting silver of her eyes. What new letter have they carved into her back? Her heart? Her soul?
Within seconds, Zélie appears. Gasping. Half-naked.
Her hands grip the earth.
Her eyes hang empty in her head.
She stares at her shaking fingers with no recognition of where she is.
Who she is.
“Zélie?”
Something’s missing. It takes me a second to realize what’s wrong. Her spirit doesn’t surge like the ocean tides.
The sea-salt scent of her soul is gone.
“Zél?”
The world seems to shrink around us, pulling in the blurred white borders. She’s still—so still I don’t know if she’s heard me or not.
I reach out. When my fingers graze her skin, she shrieks and scrambles back.
“Zél—”
Her eyes flash something feral. Her trembling intensifies.
When I move toward her, she crawls back. Shattered. Broken.
I stop and put my hands up. My chest aches at the sight. There’s no sign of the warrior I know. The fighter who spit in Father’s face. I don’t see Zél at all.
Only the shell Father left behind.
“You’re safe,” I whisper. “No one can hurt you here.”
But her eyes fill with tears. “I can’t feel it,” she cries. “I can’t feel anything.”
“Feel what?”
I move toward her, but she shakes her head and pushes herself back through the reeds with her feet.
“It’s gone.” She says the same words again. “Gone.”
She curls into the reeds, writhing with the pain she can’t escape.
Duty before self.
I dig my fingers into the dirt.
Father’s voice rings loud in my head. Duty above all else.
Kwame’s flames come back to life behind my eyes, blazing through everything in their path. My duty is to prevent that.
My duty has to be keeping Orïsha alive.
But the creed rings hollow, carving a hole inside me like the knife that carved through Zélie’s back.
Duty isn’t enough when it means destroying the girl I love.