Lies of Murk by Eva Chase
27
Talia
Madoc was right when he said the first hallway was the easiest part. The rocky passage may be slightly better lit, but my feet wobble on the uneven ground. Any place that’s smooth is also slick with dribbles of water. When I brace my hands against the walls to catch my balance, the rough stone there scrapes my palms.
He doesn’t hurry me, even though he has so much more on the line than I do. I was going to be worse than killed anyway. His entire standing among the Murk hangs in the balance right now, probably his life as well.
But he stops every few steps to check that I’m coming along all right. A few times he opens his mouth as if he’s going to offer to carry me over the tricky terrain, but then he shuts it, maybe guessing—correctly—that I’d rather stumble along than have his hands on me. He keeps his tail tucked close to his legs so it doesn’t risk tripping me.
“We can talk in here,” he says. “I still have a spell on us to deflect any notice of our presence, and it’s unlikely anyone will be coming through this passage at this time anyway.”
That makes sense, or why would he have chosen it? I nod, clambering over a particularly steep bump in the floor. “I guess this isn’t a route you’d generally be bringing cargo through.” I can’t imagine trying to carry boxes of lead or whatever while constantly stubbing your toes and risking tumbling on your face.
The corners of Madoc’s lips twitch upward. “No, we have other passages for that. This one is typically used by travelers who’ll be bringing back information and observations rather than supplies.”
Spies, he means. Like he was in the Mists. Like other Murk must be right now, watching over my mates and our people.
I wet my lips, abruptly noticing the pang of thirst in my throat. I haven’t eaten or drank anything except a few scraps Orion tossed to me several hours ago, and my nervousness isn’t helping.
Madoc must catch the motion or something in my expression, because he digs a small bottle of water out of his pocket. “I thought you might need this. I have a few bags of snacks as well. Nothing especially filling, but the dinner spread didn’t offer any items I could easily store for later.”
“That’s okay.” I accept the water with a gratitude I’m not totally comfortable with. My gaze slides over the contents, which look perfectly clear. The seal on the lid is still in place—but of course that doesn’t mean much when you’re dealing with magic.
Being suspicious of the drink is kind of ridiculous at this point, though, isn’t it? What could Madoc have gained by bringing me all the way out here only to drug me that he couldn’t have achieved much easier? I twist open the lid and take a few gulps.
When I glance at Madoc again, a shadow has crossed his face. He’s noted my hesitation too. “I am sorry,” he says, looking awkward. I’m guessing he’s not very accustomed to apologizing. “For—for not being able to step in sooner. For not doing more before it got to this point. I didn’t think it would get to this point. He’s never— It isn’t—” He doesn’t seem to know how to go on.
There’s something heart-wrenching about the fact that he sees the scars that Orion and his followers left all over his body as normal, so much more acceptable than the way his king treated me. But I suppose it is different in plenty of ways, even if I don’t think what I’ve been through is that much more awful.
“He’s never had a human whose genetic code he altered around to toy with,” I say. “He’s still the same person he was before. You just gave him a pass because of what he could do for you.”
Madoc’s mouth twists. “It seemed necessary—the way he ran the Refuge, the way he pushed us to prove ourselves. War isn’t a kind thing, and that’s what we’ve been preparing for. But you paved our way toward victory so much, and all you wanted was to go home…”
He pauses. “I can understand why you’d want to go back, and it worries me that Orion apparently can’t. I thought that’s what the war was about—reclaiming our home. But if he could torment you like this for wanting the same thing, then maybe you’re right. Maybe causing pain is more important to him than anything else.”
He starts walking again, and I shuffle after him, watching his careful, steady paces over the undulations in the stone floor. I feel like I have to offer something in return for his admission.
“After what happened to your parents, it might be understandable if you’d want to cause the other fae a lot of pain too,” I say, not really sure what I’m getting at. I just want to understand, to get a sense of what I’m leaving behind, what I can tell the other fae when I reach them.
Madoc shrugs without looking back at me. “Many times, I’ve imagined inflicting a lot of pain on the savages that tore my family apart. I’d bet you’re not completely immune from those kinds of thoughts either.”
I think of Aerik and his cadre, of the blood that splattered the forest on the edge of my childhood town and the scars marking Jamie’s face, and have to admit, “I’m not. I wouldn’t toy with them if they were helpless in front of me, but I’ve been glad to see them get put in their places as well as we’ve managed so far.” Every time I see Aerik’s cruel face, I’d like to punch it or stab him in the gut. I can own that.
“There’ve been a lot of crimes committed against my people,” Madoc goes on. “There are a lot of Seelie and Unseelie I’d like to make pay. But… I can’t say it doesn’t ring true to me, what you said about not judging everyone by the actions of some. I can accept that it wasn’t fair of me to assume your mates didn’t care about you for who you are, just as you do them. You’re obviously very good at inspiring emotions one wouldn’t necessarily expect.”
There’s a sort of self-deprecating wryness to his tone, but it’s the weariness underneath that niggles at me. “What are you going to do after I’m gone?” I ask.
“I’ll pretend to help with the search that’ll no doubt go out for you, and maybe lay a few more misleading clues to confuse matters. Then we’ll get back to planning the war. Without the spectacle Orion was planning and knowing that you’ll be able to prevent the full-moon curse from taking the Seelie, I’d imagine he’ll delay the attack he was hoping to carry out a little longer. Hopefully for long enough for you to make some progress encouraging the wolves and the ravens to consider negotiations.”
“I’ll do what I can.” It’s hard to think beyond reaching my mates again, setting my feet back on familiar ground. I have no idea what they’ve been through while I’ve been missing. And… “I can’t see telling them that Orion is worth bargaining with. I wouldn’t trust him to mean a single word he says. We can’t even count on him sticking to the letter of an oath he gives when he’s not governed by the Heart of the Mists, can we?”
“No.” Madoc rubs his mouth. “We’ll take it as it comes. I can feel out others subtly and see who might be inclined to support a peaceful change rather than full-out war. And maybe there’ll still need to be some fighting, just… not quite as much as otherwise.”
“If we can resolve this without all of any kind of fae ending up dead, that’ll be better than what he’s planned,” I mutter.
“And if it comes to that, then it comes to that. I can’t say I’m all that optimistic about the fae of the seasons caring one bit about how we feel about anything.” A trace of bitterness comes into Madoc’s voice. He shakes himself. “That isn’t the point of this. The point of this is you don’t deserve the fate he had in mind for you. That one thing I can change.”
A lump rises in my throat. “And if I can’t make any arrangements quickly enough, or there aren’t enough Murk who’ll compromise? Will you be with them fighting to slaughter all of the other fae, trying to rule over the entire Mists?”
Madoc is silent for a long moment. When he stops and turns toward me, the expression on his face echoes the hopelessness I felt locked up in that cage. “I won’t strike out at anyone who isn’t striking at us,” he says firmly. “I can promise you that much. The rest is up to them.”
Staring back at him, I feel as if I can suddenly see the bars that have snapped into place around him—maybe back when his parents were killed in front of him, maybe from the moment he was born. He’s been caged in his own way by the hostility toward the Murk, by the way the leaders he had stoked the urge for violent vengeance.
Is it any wonder he has trouble seeing another way?
Neither of us has been dealt a good hand among the fae. But he’s trying to do something better with it now anyway. That does count for something.
“I hope it goes much better than that,” I say, but I can’t say I have all that much hope myself.
Just about anything would be better than the picture his king painted of our near future, though.
Another thought hits me with a sudden chill. “Do you know—when Orion reached into my head and was searching through my mind—did he find anything he was planning to use against the other fae that he didn’t mention in his questions?” Just how much did I end up betraying my mates yet again?
Madoc blinks as if confused before understanding flickers through his expression. “You don’t have to worry about that. He didn’t search your mind at all. He only wanted you to think he had—that he could—to intimidate you. The questions he asked were based on observations we’ve made in the Mists, and he used a spell to force you to answer truthfully, but he can’t actually see right inside anyone’s head.”
“Oh.” An unsettling mix of relief and embarrassment trickles through me. There’s yet another trick I fell for. But at least that means I can be sure Orion doesn’t know any of my few remaining secrets.
We walk on in silence for a time. The passage veers one way and then another, seeming to double back on itself at least twice, sometimes sloping downward again before it heads back up. My warped foot is starting to ache. I feel as if I’ve walked at least a couple of miles.
Then we take another turn, and the passage widens—well, the space between the walls does, anyway. The floor, not so much. A deep chasm appears to have pushed the wall on the right a few feet farther away, leaving a strip of stone just wide enough for us to comfortably walk along next to the perilous drop.
My legs balk. I peer down into the chasm, unable to see the bottom, only total blackness.
“We’re almost there,” Madoc says. “Stick close to the wall, and you’ll be fine.” He has his own hand resting against the wall at our left, the end of his tail braced against the ground by his feet.
I gather my resolve and limp after him, setting my own feet as far from the chasm as I can. At least this section of the path is pretty straight.
“You said the passage is a spell,” I say. “That’s why it’s so long and twisted. What kind of a spell?”
I’m actually only asking out of curiosity, no thought of scheming left in my head other than the desire to get out of this place, but Madoc tenses a bit before he answers in a careful tone. “Only to ensure that those entering this way don’t reach the Refuge unless they actually know where they’re going.”
That’s why he isn’t concerned about me bringing an army down on the Refuge. The fae of the seasons won’t know “where they’re going” even if I lead them to the place where I exit. There must be some kind of incantation or similar you need to make sure the path leads you right. It makes sense as a security precaution.
It also explains why it’d be very difficult for the other fae to have found me, even if I’d managed to give Whitt any real clues.
“How long have I—” I start to ask, just to break up the gnawing silence before it descends too heavily again.
Madoc cuts me off with a jerk of his hand. He freezes in front of me, staring at the passage ahead of us. Apprehension washes over me.
Then I hear it too. A metallic squeak like unoiled hinges, carrying down through the dim space.
Someone’s coming.
They’re coming quickly. Just a couple of heartbeats after I caught the squeak, distant but audible voices reach my ears. I can’t see the figures who’re talking yet, but I have the sense it’s only a matter of seconds before they turn the bend to come into view.
Madoc’s head swivels sharply, taking in the passage around us. He scrambles several paces farther up and leaps across the chasm to a small ledge that barely juts out far enough to support his feet. He motions to me. “My illusions can stop them from seeing and hearing us, but it won’t let them walk right through us. We have to get off the path.”
I hurry after him, my heart hammering. As I come up across from him, the two figures step into sight at the top of this section of the path. They’re hustling toward me, one behind the other, talking in excited voices.
But not so excited that they’d miss running straight into a solid body, whether they can see me or not.
My gaze whips back to Madoc and the ledge he’s braced on. There’s room for another person to stand there next to him, but only just—and I’d still have to make it to that spot. Jumping over a fathomless crevice with a crooked foot that’s now outright throbbing.
The image flashes through my mind of me careening down into the vast darkness below. My pulse hiccups and thumps even harder.
“I don’t think I can do it,” I whisper. “My foot—I’ll fall.”
Madoc stretches out his arm. “You just need to get close enough for me to catch you. Quickly.”
My focus narrows in on his open hand. He wants me to trust him with my safety, to put all my faith in him…
Haven’t I already done that by coming this far with him anyway?
The Murk sentries are coming up on us fast. I don’t let myself second-guess my last thought. With a gulp of air, I step backward to give me a bit of a running start, and then throw myself toward the ledge.
For a second, with nothing solid beneath my feet, my stomach starts to plummet as if I’m going to fall with it. My eyes have squeezed shut of their own accord.
Then Madoc’s hand clamps around my elbow, yanking me the rest of the way to him so his other arm can slide around my back and swivel me toward the wall. He holds me there, just inches from his body, his thunderstorm scent wrapping around me too.
My feet wobble and settle on the ledge, but I don’t dare nudge him away. He’s become my entire sense of balance. I can feel the faint, nervous thump of his own pulse echoing through his embrace into me.
The two fae dash on past us. Their voices are drowned out by the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears. Madoc and I stay there, locked in place and perfectly still, until I can’t hear them at all.
Tentatively, I dare to look over my shoulder. I can’t even see them now—they’ve gone around the turn at the bottom.
Madoc adjusts his grip on me, and a jolt of panic shoots through my veins. But he keeps the same firm but gentle hold he’s offered from the start.
“I should leap back across first, and then you jump to me like before,” he says in a low voice, his breath tickling over my forehead. “Can you find a position where you feel steady?”
I swallow hard and manage a nod. Gradually, he eases his arms back and I lean against the wall, keeping most of my weight on my good foot. Madoc watches me closely, making sure I’m okay.
He pushes off the wall and lands solidly on the path with a swish of his tail to help steady himself. When he turns and holds out his hands to me, my pulse still skips a beat at the thought of the drop between us, but I don’t hesitate as long as before.
Going back to safety is easier. And I already know he can catch me.
I fling myself toward Madoc, and he grasps my waist for just long enough to set me fully on the stone floor. I exhale shakily. “Let’s skip that part next time.”
Madoc lets out a startled laugh. He gazes down at me for a moment with an expression I can’t read and then points me toward the top of the path. “Let’s hope there isn’t a next time.”
Despite the pain in my foot creeping up into my calf, I pick up my pace, knowing escape is close but that we can’t be sure no other Murk will show up unexpectedly. Thank God, we make it to the top of that steeper strip and leave the chasm behind without incident. Madoc directs me along a couple more brief passages to reach a short ladder that leads up to a circular panel in the ceiling.
He climbs up the ladder, murmurs a little magic, and shoves the panel to the side. Air fresher than anything I’ve breathed in over a week washes down over me, and a gasp escapes my lips. Madoc peers down at me, an emotion I don’t recognize flitting through his eyes again.
He isn’t reconsidering letting me go, is he?
But he leaves the panel open, coming back down the ladder to where I’m standing. He touches my shoulder so lightly I barely feel the press of his fingers through my shirt.
“Talia,” he says, his gaze so intense I get worried about what he’s going to say all over again.
Before he can go any further, he stiffens, his attention flicking away. He spits out a curse and turns back to me with so much more urgency than before.
“They’ve already noticed you’re gone,” he says. “They’ll be searching all the passages. I have to get back to divert them. Move fast as soon as you get outside. Get away from the entrance, stay hidden, and call your raven. I’ll do what I can to keep them off your trail. And—thank you.”
I’d ask what he’s thanking me for, but he dips his head to graze his mouth against mine in the most fleeting of kisses. It’s there and then gone before I can react to that either. The instant he pulls back, he nudges me toward the ladder. “Go!”
There’s no time to say anything at all. I spin toward the ladder, grasp the rungs, and haul myself toward the world outside as fast as my muscles will move me.
