Page 137 of While the Dark Remains
Saga’s eyes go wet. Vil curses and slams the heel of his hand into the rock.
My heart beats, beats. “I thought I was serving my people, being faithful to the task my father set me all those years ago. But I couldn’t leave you to die, Saga. I couldn’t do it when we escaped. I can’t do it now. My brother’s actions arewrong. This land used to belong to the Iljaria. But that doesn’t give him the right to take it back again like this. My people are supposed to believe in peace, in the sanctity of life. This is revenge. This is death.” I clench my bloodied hand. I try not to think of Kallias, stiff and cold in my dangling cage. I believed that too, once.
“You betrayed us,” says Vil, his voice rough and cold. “Why would we trust you now?”
I give a tired lift of my shoulders. “Because I can’t do this alone. And because you are my friends. My ... family. And because—because I’m sorry.” My voice breaks.
It’s Saga who gets up, who paces over to the cell door. There is still anger in her eyes, but the hatred has, perhaps, lessened a little.
“I was wrong,” I say. “I was so wrong, Saga. I won’t ask you to forgive me. But will you help me?”
Behind me, Rute and the rest of the prisoners are waiting. I glance back at her and give her a swift nod. She leads them away, usheringthem through an entrance to the tunnels I found on my last visit here, just past Ballast’s cell. Pala and Leifur are the only ones who linger.
Vil climbs slowly to his feet and comes to stand by Saga. “What’s your plan, Brynja?”
I pick the lock to their cell and pull the door open. They both come out, eyeing me warily.
“The Skaandan army has to be close,” I say. “I haven’t told my brother about them, so he doesn’t know they’re coming. Go down into the tunnels, speak with the scout, meet up with your soldiers. The Daerosian army should be free shortly. The combined forces of both armies should be enough to subdue fifty Iljaria. Rute can bring messages back and forth to coordinate the attack.”
Vil looks at me doubtfully. “Can’t your brother just kill us all with a snap of his fingers?”
I grimace. “That’s why I have to get my magic back. I’m going to talk to Ballast. I think he might be able to help me, and I think the Daerosian army will follow him. So all we need to do is—”
“Ballast is gone,” Saga interrupts.
I blink at her. “What?”
“After your last little visit, an obliging rat came and brought him the key to his cell. He’s gone.”
Panic races through me. “Where did he go? Why didn’t he let you all out?”
“Why would he?” she snaps. “He has no love for Skaandans.”
“He said something about gathering his own army,” says Vil.
“The Daerosians?” I ask.
Vil shakes his head. “I don’t think he meant a human army.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Year4200, Month of the Ghost Lord
Daeros—the tundra
Saga doesn’t trust me. I’m not sure she ever will again, and I can’t blame her. Vil barely looks at me, and I wonder if his love for me died the moment he learned my true heritage. I can’t really blame him, either.
But it still hurts.
I see Saga, Vil, Pala, and Leifur safely into the tunnels, where the Skaandan scout, Aisa, is still waiting. Saga gives a cry of relief, and Vil’s shoulders visibly relax. Leifur and Pala greet her warmly. I feel like the worst kind of outsider. Unacknowledged. Unneeded.
“The army is close,” Aisa tells us, “not more than three days away.”
Vil quickly catches her up on the change in plan, and Aisa flicks her eyes at me, brows raised.
There’s no point in me lingering. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” I say quietly.
Saga grits her jaw but doesn’t say anything.
