Page 67 of In the Ravenous Dark
If we have help.
Lydea’s paying a more official visit to Skyllea still might be our best option, but it has to be her choice.
I meet Alldan’s violet eyes squarely. “What if I can’t help you… woo Lydea?”
He shrugs, though I can see the weight on his bronze-edged shoulders. “We feel it’s our moral imperative, so to speak. You would still be welcome in Skyllea if Lydea refuses to come, but we might have to resort to less diplomatic measures to effect change. Broader strokes, on a larger scale.”
He means that without Lydea as a less bloody path to the throne, Skyllea might have to go to war to stop Thanopolis. Many more people than only Kineas and King Tyros would die.
It wouldn’t be my decision to start a war. It’s ridiculous for Alldan to even place that burden on me, when Skyllea hasn’t doneanythingfor me or Lydea.
But he’s also offering us all asylum in the near future. And that’s not nothing, if he’s telling the truth.
He must see the doubt in my face, because he says, “I mean it when I say you are still welcome no matter what. You only have to find me or one of my envoys, and we will get you there.”
I don’t know how he thinks he could get me out of the city so easily, but I think,Okay, then.My dream of Skyllea is still within reach. Winning free of Kineas is still possible. I don’t know what to do about Lydea, but I haven’t felt hope like this in a long time.
It feels like a promise of fire.
22
I get in touch with Lydea and Japha as soon as possible, passing them notes. My guardian’s absence makes this less tricky than usual. I still have Graecus and Damios to worry about, but the fact that I can see where they are now makes them easier to avoid.
I can’t help being concerned about Ivrilos, too, but in a different way. He helped me in my duel with Kineas, after all, and I appreciate it more than I care to admit. I haven’t seen him in a couple of days. That’s not entirely uncommon, but the timing and circumstances are odd.
The thought of him suffering somehow, unable to tell me, makes my chest feel tight and fluttery in a strangely panicky sort of way. And yet, while I might be my guardian’s responsibility, he’s not mine. I shouldn’t care about him beyond trying to get rid of him.
Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself. My silent reminder thathe doesn’t care about medoesn’t ring quite as true, though.
After I wrestle with nigh-too-much reading and writing for my fledgling abilities, Lydea, Japha, and I agree to meet at the palace’s private entrance to the necropolis. When we arrive, we’re all wearing somber ceremonial death shrouds. It’s the traditional garb for visiting the necropolis,andthe draping cowls and sleeves cover our heads and bloodlines, lending us some measure of anonymity. Even the torches burn low in this stretch of hallway, and the floor is a dark swirl of black and gray mosaics.
The solemnity doesn’t stop Lydea from winking at me. “Hey, beautiful.”
I can’t help smiling back. “Hey.”
I shouldn’t smile, because it feels dishonest somehow. Like I’m hiding something.
I’ve told them I have a way to escape but that we need more information from the necropolis, which suited Lydea just fine. We hope not only to learn more about our guardian bonds from Delphia and Crisea, but to let them in on our plans. Lydea intends to take Delphia with us when we flee the city, and I wholeheartedly encouraged the idea. She also says there’s a place in the necropolis where we all might be able to talk without our guardians being able to overhear. Her mother, Cylla, took her there once or twice.
Ihaven’tyet admitted that leaving with Alldan is perhaps our best bet. Even though it seems to be the easiest way to help the warded bloodmages, halt the spread of the blight, and avert a war between Skyllea and Thanopolis, I’m afraid to.
Because it might not be what’s best for Lydea. Forus.
Japha waves a hand in front of our faces. “Hello, I’m right here, and I’m also beautiful.”
I laugh and throw my arms around their neck. “Of course you are. You were also being less obvious and more appropriate, for once.”
Japha returns my hug warmly. “I can’t help being unremarkable, wearing this.” They shift their shoulders uncomfortably under their cowl. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in this.”
“My dearest, I don’t think you’ll have a choice when the time comes,” Lydea says. “It’s adeathshroud.”
“Even so. Fashion is always a choice. That will be my final request: ‘Don’t dress my corpse in a shapeless sack.’”
Lydea laughs and points us to a doorway between columns that are uncharacteristically naked of vines or flowers. I realize now that there are skulls inset over the head of the door, and the surrounding columns have segments between their knobby ends, like finger bones.
“This is the private entrance to the necropolis for members of the royal family. We don’t have to deal with the common masses this way.” She smirks at me to let me know she’s teasing. “Shall we?”
Ostensibly we’re visiting so I can pay respects to my father in the afterlife, and Lydea and Japha to their mothers and grandfather. Attempting to speak to the dead is a common-enough ritual in Thanopolis, even if it’s more often practiced by the wealthy. It’s expensive unless you’re royal; then it’s free. Somehow that makes sense to everyone. Of course, I’ve never done it.
