“They have to be here somewhere,” Cedric said as he led Liv up the twisting back stairs of the servants’ quarters.
“You’re right. We’ll find them,” Liv said. But her words had a false, placating sound.
He tried not to think of the dungeons, of the wide-open, empty cells. Of the faces he had last seen behind those bars months ago. He’d been so sure his family would be in the dungeon still, so sure he’d rescue them—
But what if there was no one left to rescue?
His heart twisted. He tried to shove the thought aside, but it wouldn’t budge. Instead, he gripped his sword hilt so tightly his fingers ached. He noticed the back of his hand was splattered with blackish blood.
“So where . . . are we going?” Liv panted as they rounded a landing and stepped into a corridor.
The sentence was barely out of her mouth before Cedric stopped in front of a large, familiar wooden door. He’d passed this door hundreds of times in his life, and had had more than one occasion to go through it, when he’d fallen ill as a child or when he’d twisted an ankle on a hunt.
He tried to push the door open, but it was locked. He slammed his fist into the wood near the doorjamb, and the resulting noise was so loud, Liv jumped back.
“Cedric?”
“These are the healing quarters. If anyone was injured, they might have been taken here . . .”
He kicked at the wood, this time sending parts of it splintering away from the door. Liv didn’t say anything, but edged slowly away from him.
“This is a good sign, Liv. It would not be locked unless the wraths were trying to keep someone out . . . or in.”
On the fifth kick, the door busted inward. Light from the windows of the healing quarters spilled out into the hallway, and for a moment Cedric couldn’t see anything in the room at all. But then his eyes adjusted to the light, and he took in the familiar settings—the large, arched windows, the rows of clean beds. Lying on the bed at the far side of the room was a figure propped up against a pillow.
“Peter!”
Liv flew into the room, running over to her brother so quickly she nearly crashed into the bed. Cedric followed, scanning the room once again to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.
He hadn’t. No one else was there.
“Liv?” Peter asked, his voice full of disbelief. He pushed himself up even more on the bed, though Cedric noticed he didn’t get out of it.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” Peter continued. “Emme said you’d follow, but I didn’t think you’d actually come after me—”
“Of course I’d come after you!” Liv replied, sounding both relieved and angry. “You idiot!”
Cedric noticed her eyes filling with tears, though she didn’t cry.
“I’m so sorry, Liv. I’m so, so sorry. Emme said she needed help, and I thought I could save her, I thought . . .”
“It’s okay.”
“No. I should never have left you and Daisy behind. And now . . .” He looked down at the bed, where he was covered by a blanket from the waist down.
“What happened?” Liv asked, gently.
Rather than respond, Peter slowly pulled the white blanket aside. His right leg was completely wrapped in strips of linen, from his thigh all the way down to his ankle.
“It was the portal,” he whispered. “Malquin said I didn’t go through it right—”
“Malquin is here?” Cedric interrupted.
Peter looked up at him for the first time. He nodded, heavy. “He asked me to tell him where you were staying in Los Angeles, but I wouldn’t say, Liv. I wouldn’t. I made Emme promise not to, either. She felt bad after . . . what happened.” Peter looked down at his leg.
“Oh, Peter,” Liv breathed, following his look. “Is it . . . ?”
“Broken. Feels more like shattered. But the healer said I’ll be able to walk again. Probably.”
“We have to get you home, back to a real doctor.”
Before Peter could respond, Cedric stepped forward. He wanted Liv to have her moment, but seeing her with her brother only reminded him more of the family he needed to find.
“Liv, I need to search for the others.”
Liv nodded, but her eyes were panicked as she gestured to Peter. “He can’t walk. How can we get him out . . . ?”
Cedric’s mind raced. Every second that ticked by was another wasted opportunity to get to his family before the attack began. He looked around the thick, stone walls of the room.
“Stay in here. It is secure, and less dangerous than sneaking Peter out if he is injured. Bar yourself from the inside when I leave, and do not open the door for anyone but me.”
Liv looked terrified, but she nodded again. “Good luck.”
The light from the windows fell on Liv and Peter, making the top strands of their brown hair shine in identical shades of red-gold. In that moment, they were undeniably siblings. Cedric blinked at the image before leaving the room and shutting the wooden door behind him.
He barely realized where his feet were taking him until he arrived at another pair of wooden doors, these ones much larger and carved with various delicate depictions of hunting and feasting. His father’s quarters.
He pushed his shoulder against the door, surprised when it opened easily. He was even more surprised by what he saw inside.
King James was sitting in the same large wooden chair where he used to sit to scold Cedric when he’d done something wrong as a child, or to clean his smaller weapons during peaceful evenings once the day’s work was done. The king who sat on the chair now looked very much the same, and yet . . .
The set of his shoulders was unchanged, as was the fierce look in his eyes. But he also looked grayer and thinner—smaller—than Cedric remembered. The whole room, in fact, felt smaller than Cedric remembered.
Two wrath guards stood on either side of the king. They immediately jumped forward when Cedric entered the room, but stopped at a single motion of the king’s hand.
“Father, I . . . ,” Cedric faltered, suddenly confused. Why were the wraths guarding his father also obeying his commands? “I am here to rescue you.”
“Yes, I can see that,” his father responded.
Cedric, thrown, just shifted in place. He suddenly felt incredibly young. It was almost as though the past few months had never happened, and instead of traveling to another world and fighting dozens of monsters, he’d simply been out hunting and drinking too late and was now waiting for a punishment. King James stared at him, his blue-gray eyes unreadable.
“I . . . ,” Cedric said. “Are Mother and Emme nearby? Are they all right?”
“Perfectly fine, both.”
His father’s voice was maddeningly calm. He nodded to the wrath on his right, who moved forward and seized Cedric’s arm. Cedric was too surprised to react. He waited for his father to give some explanation, but the king was whispering to the other wrath guard. After a moment, the creature gave a grunt and walked to a curtain in the back of the room. He pushed it aside and walked into some sort of passageway that Cedric had never known existed.
“Father, what . . . ? We have to get out of here.”
“No, son,” the king responded, his voice even. “We have to wait here for Malquin. He is very eager to see you again.”
The world seemed to stutter and stop. The king’s words echoed in Cedric’s ears, but he couldn’t make sense of them.
Nothing made sense.
And then Malquin emerged from the secret passageway behind the curtain and nodded—actually nodded—at the king. Cedric wondered for a moment if he were going insane. But when Malquin turned his dark eyes to Cedric, all of his doubt hardened into anger. He ripped his arm free from the wrath guard who held him and stood straight to face Malquin head-on.
The man looked much like he had when Cedric had seen him last, from his twisted arm to his long, whitish hair. Only his expression was different. Instead of the snarl Cedric had seen on Malquin’s face while trying to wrest a gun away from him in the warehouse, there was now a thin-lipped smile. He looked calm, completely in control.
Malquin moved to stand next to the king, putting one hand on his shoulder. Cedric felt bile rise in his throat.
“Cedric,” the king started, “I was worried for you when you went through that portal—”
“You were the one who told me to go!”
The king put up one hand, signaling that it was his turn to speak. Cedric’s mouth clamped shut out of habit.
“When Malquin returned to our world, he put my mind at ease. He assured me you were safe.”
Malquin inclined his head forward slightly, all patronizing benevolence.
“He also offered me a deal,” the king continued. “One so strong, and with so many benefits for Caelum, that I did not think but to accept it.”
“You cannot trust him!” Cedric burst out.
“Hush, young prince. The adults are talking now,” Malquin said, his thin smile pulling wider. The king’s face tightened at Malquin’s words, but Cedric’s whole body sprang forward in response. The wrath next to him grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back.
“As I was saying,” the king continued, “I accepted Malquin’s bargain. He has offered our family’s freedom, and the autonomy to once again rule over our lands, so long as we double the territory of the wraths who choose to stay in Caelum and agree to stop hunting them within our borders.”
“The wraths who choose to stay . . . ,” Cedric parroted, confused.
“I promised the wraths a victory over the Guardians,” Malquin said with a slick chuckle. “But it turns out, many of them want something even better—a world where they can hide in plain sight and follow no rules but their own. A world in which they’re four times stronger than the men who live there. Plus, hot water running straight from the tap. Of course, some wraths will want to stay behind. There are always those who fear change. But they will have territory and the knowledge that they defeated the Guardians through their own power. A fine reward for taking part in the invasion. But most of them—”
“Are going to Earth,” Cedric said, the words thick in his mouth. “You’re sending them to Los Angeles.” Then he remembered how few wraths had been on watch at the city gates, and in the castle. “Or you already have.”
“I did not send them anywhere. The wraths made up their own minds.”
Cedric cast a wild look to his father. “You cannot do this. You think these creatures will obey the laws of the other world, will refrain from taking anything and killing anyone they choose? There will be no way for the people of Earth to protect themselves—”
“That is not our concern,” the king said, his voice stern. “Caelum is our only concern. If so many wraths choose to leave, our land will be all the better for it.”
“No . . . ,” Cedric said, shaking his head. Memories flashed before him—children gazing at giant bones in the museum, hundreds of people walking freely down busy roads, the way the wraths had torn through the police officers in their path one dark night in a brick alley . . . “We were made Guardians for a reason, because we are the only ones who can keep the wraths in check. To let them loose on an unsuspecting world—it is wrong, Father. This is the wrong way.”
“It is the only way,” the king responded. “Think of it, Cedric. Put aside your emotions and just think.”
And despite the condescension behind the king’s words, Cedric did think. He thought of a land with fewer wrath forces. Fewer invasions on outlying villages, fewer cattle robberies, abductions, skirmishes. Deaths. He thought of a relative peace returning to Caelum, stronger than ever before. Of his father ruling over that peace. Of Emme safe.
“The deal is a strong one,” the king continued. “And it only requires that we turn over to Malquin one thing.”
Malquin looked straight at Cedric, his eyes hard. “Another scroll.”
Cedric’s head shook automatically. No, no, no.
“Oh, come on, it’s not like I’d hurt them,” Malquin said, as though it were Cedric who was being unreasonable. “I already have Peter. Daisy and Joe have proven a bit hard to track down, but fortunately I won’t have to bother with them . . . since another scroll is already here, isn’t she?”
Cedric’s head had stopped shaking. He was perfectly still. “What do you want with her?”
“That is my concern,” Malquin said. “Tell me where Liv is, Cedric, and all this can be over.”
Cedric didn’t move.
“This is not a game,” the king’s voice boomed, his voice rising higher. “Tell us where she is, Cedric. I command it.”
But despite his words, the king’s voice grew less and less commanding to Cedric’s ears. The more his father spoke, the less he sounded like a king. Cedric had always counted on his father to do the absolute best, right thing in every situation. That’s why he always claimed to be so hard on Cedric—because he knew what the right course was.
But what if he actually didn’t?
What if he was just scared, and doing the best he could in the moment, just like Cedric always did? What if his father—what if the king—could be wrong?
Cedric felt movement at his back and turned to see another wrath enter the room, his horns nearly clipping the top of the door frame.
“There is . . . a situation . . . ,” the wrath said, his black eyes focused only on Malquin.
Malquin’s jaw twitched in annoyance. He quickly followed the wrath into the hallway. Cedric didn’t really need to wonder what situation the wrath was referring to. By this point, Kat and whatever army she had gathered were attempting to break through the north wall. While the wraths were distracted there, Rafe was letting the entire village of Duoin in at the south gate. Cedric wondered how far they’d come into the city. All he had to do was keep his family safe until they got here. If he could placate Malquin long enough, make sure he didn’t get the chance to harm anyone else before the castle was taken back . . . then his father would see they no longer had to make any sort of deal with this madman . . . he would see . . .
Cedric strained to hear the whispered conversation taking place out in the hall, but only caught snippets here and there. The king was also straining to listen, his head tipped forward. Cedric found his eyes caught on his father’s face. It was the same face he’d looked up to his whole life, but now he felt as though he were seeing it in sharper focus, like a thin veil had fallen from it. In the set of those strong features Cedric now recognized so many of his own familiar, conflicting emotions—worry, fear, anxiety, anger—and to see them so clearly painted across a face that had been only one thing for so long was extremely disconcerting. It felt like the world was slowly tipping under his feet, morphing into something new. And Cedric wasn’t sure he was ready to face it.
He turned toward the hall instead, where Malquin’s voice rose in a sharp whisper. Moments later Cedric heard the wrath’s heavy footsteps clomping away. Malquin came back into the room.
“I have thought about your deal,” Cedric said. He kept his chin up, his face level with Malquin’s own. “And if it means you will leave Caelum and take hundreds of wraths with you, I will concede to your terms.”
The king closed his eyes for a moment, relieved. Malquin smiled.
“Liv is in the castle now,” Cedric continued. “And I can bring her to you.”
Malquin’s smile slipped. “Or you could just tell me where to find her.”
Cedric shook his head. “If she sees you coming, she will run. Possibly back to the portal she came through. But if it’s me . . . she trusts me.”
Malquin stared him down for a moment, and Cedric was careful not to flinch or betray himself with the slightest movement.
Finally, Malquin nodded to the wrath behind Cedric. “Stay behind the prince. Give him enough space so you don’t spook the girl, but don’t let him out of your sight.”
The wrath grunted and took one step closer to Cedric, the stench of his breath impossible to escape.
“This won’t spook her at all,” Cedric muttered.
But even his sarcastic anger was (mostly) for show. He didn’t have any intention of leading this creature near Liv. He just needed to buy Rafe and Kat more time, even get outside to help them if he could.
They started through the castle halls, the wrath guard close on his heels. Cedric moved quickly. He made it down the main stairs into the giant front entrance hall, his ungainly guard still keeping pace behind him. The last time Cedric had been here was the night wraths had invaded the castle. His stomach clenched as he remembered how the creatures had dragged Emme by the arm across the stone floor.
Up ahead of him, several wraths ran out the giant front doors. Just before the door slammed closed behind them, Cedric heard shouts and the unmistakable sound of metal clanging against metal.
“Where are we going?” the wrath guard growled.
“To retrieve what I promised,” Cedric replied without turning around.
Halfway across the front hall, Cedric planted his feet on the stone floor and braced himself. The wrath following him crashed into his back, nearly toppling him over. But instead, it bounced backward, and Cedric jumped on the creature’s moment of confusion. He whirled around, sword at the ready.
The wrath wasn’t thrown quite enough, however. He just managed to block Cedric’s swing with one thick arm. His mouth curled back in a sneer as he reached for the blade at his side.
The wrath’s sword was shorter than Cedric’s, but it was plenty sharp. It sliced through the air and hit Cedric’s own sword with a clang that reverberated up Cedric’s arm and set his teeth clattering.
This wrath was strong.
When the creature prepared its next swing, Cedric dropped to the ground and quickly rolled beneath the wrath’s sword, then thrust his own blade upward. Its tip pushed into the wrath’s side, right where the two ends of its leather armor met.
The wrath fell to the ground with a final grunt.
Even still, Cedric knew he didn’t have much time before more wraths appeared, on their way out to join the battle. What would he see when he pulled the door open? If there were several wraths out there, he would have an even harder fight in front of him. But many wraths were likely already in LA. He just hoped Kat and Rafe had taken out enough of the remaining wraths to destroy Malquin’s plans.
Cedric took a deep breath, then flung open the doors.
Rafe stood on the threshold of the castle entrance, bloodied and grinning. Behind him, two dozen fighters from the village of Duoin were flanked in battle formation. Several bodies of wraths lay in front of the castle gates, and in the distance, Cedric could see more fleeing.
“Well?” Rafe rasped, leaning heavily against the door frame.
“What are you standing there for?” Cedric responded. “Come in.”
Energy coursed through Cedric’s body. He could only imagine Malquin’s face when he pushed back into the king’s quarters and told him that he’d failed. He’d never get his hands on Liv, and he’d lost Caelum, too.
Cedric burst through the doors to his father’s room, but one glance at Malquin’s face told him the madman already knew his plan was ruined. His eyes were narrowed into slits, his lips pressed tightly together in anger. The skin of his face looked even whiter than his hair.
Two wrath guards still stood at the king’s side, but they no longer looked like fearsome, confident soldiers. Their large black eyes bounced warily between Malquin and Cedric, their fingers twitching at the weapons in their hands.
“It’s over, Malquin. We have the castle,” Cedric said.
But it wasn’t Malquin who responded.
“Oh, son,” the king said, his voice breaking. “What have you done?”
Cedric blinked, took half a step back. Maybe his father didn’t realize what was happening?
“It’s all right, Father,” Cedric said. “You do not need to do what Malquin says any longer. We’ve won.”
Cedric’s words seemed to hang in the air, their triumph slowly wilting.
The king shook his head back and forth, slowly.
“They were going to leave us be,” the king said. “Forever.”
“You . . . you don’t understand,” Cedric continued. “Our whole army is here, driving the wraths back. We’ve won.”
Malquin’s eyes hardened, boring into Cedric. “Is that what you think?” His voice was low, dangerous.
For a moment, Cedric’s heart thudded in fear. But then he heard the sound of footsteps racing up the stairs, and he straightened. His army was here, and Malquin’s threats were meaningless.
Malquin shook his head. “You’ve made a mistake, young prince. You didn’t just forfeit our deal, you took something that is rightfully mine.”
“Liv isn’t yours.”
But Malquin continued as if Cedric hadn’t spoken at all. “Just ask the Knights who hurt my brother. Take something from me, and I’ll make you pay tenfold.”
Just as Cedric heard men pour into the room behind him, Malquin nodded once at the wrath guards standing behind the king.
They moved quickly—so impossibly quickly—in the space of a breath. One ran a knife across the king’s throat, while the other plunged its blade into his chest.
Cedric felt a cry tearing from his throat, but he couldn’t really hear it. His body stumbled forward, arms stretched out toward his father, but he was too far away, too late. As the room erupted into chaos, Cedric struggled to make sense of any of the sounds and sights in front of him. His mind kept playing that moment over and over, the slide and the plunge. The way his father’s shoulders slumped. He hardly noticed when Malquin slipped through the curtains and into the secret passageway, or when the two wrath guards moved to block any soldiers from following him.
Cedric barely heard the soldiers cry out, in pain, in rage, in disbelief. Some froze in horror while others ran toward the two wraths, weapons ready.
Cedric stared at his father’s body on his wooden chair, seeing it again and again.
The slide, the plunge.
And then the blood.
He fell to his knees before the king’s chair. His father’s blue-gray eyes stared out at the wall over Cedric’s shoulder, but they didn’t see it. They didn’t see anything.
Could he have stopped it? Could he have moved quicker? Could he close his eyes and turn back time somehow? Only a few seconds had passed since it happened, just a few seconds in all the long history of time. Surely those few seconds could reverse, could turn back around, could make this moment not have happened?
He closed his eyes tight, but around him time continued to move forward, like it always had.
Slide and plunge.
But this wasn’t the fault of time.
Cedric was on his feet in a second. He gripped his sword in his right hand, no longer feeling pain in his shoulder, in his muscles. No longer feeling anything. He turned toward the passageway behind the curtain. The wraths blocking Malquin’s escape were now busy fighting against the king’s own men. Cedric pushed past them all.
And he ran.
The passage was pitch-black, and Cedric had no torch to guide his way. Still, he ran fast and straight, never pausing to get his bearings.
Somehow, he knew where this tunnel would lead him.
He wasn’t surprised to turn a corner and tumble almost directly into a dark wall made of stone. In the middle of it was a small wooden door. He thrust out a hand, pushing against one of the stones in the wall. The door swung open for him, just as it had months before.
Cedric tumbled out into the small courtyard. The last time he was here, it had been covered only by the night sky, but now the setting sun had colored everything in a pinkish glow.
The only thing in the courtyard except for Cedric was the portal that hung a few feet away, a hole made of darkness. It was still and empty and mocking, giving no sign of having swallowed up Malquin only moments before.
For the second time in ten minutes, Cedric fell helplessly to his knees. He didn’t get up again for a long, long time.