Page 64 of Light Locked
Clea wondered then if her parents had also sold her in such a way. After her oldest sister’s death, such use of symbols had become impossible to escape, but even before it, she and her siblings had complained to each other about how stifling their parents’ demands to represent hope could be. Her eldest sister had once compared it to prostitution. Clea had thought it awful to say, but now she understood. She understood and her heart reached for her siblings.
The servants stepped back and observed her. They spoke to one another with satisfaction as they mixed a paint and tried to match it to the newfound tanness of her dyed skin. They brushed it across the darkness of her disease and measured how much would be needed to hide the rest on her legs. Two maids left for more paint as the final one sat Clea down, finished her hair, and finalized the painting on her eyes. By the time she was done, red light of the sunset filtered in through the window.
Clea did not recognize herself when the maid stepped out of the way of the mirror. As she looked into her reflection, she saw what many others surely saw. Beauty and luminance, but in a way that made her feel a step removed from herself. Shedidn’t look real. Now, she too wore the face of the forest. She’d become an alluring creature that hid its decay with a thin veil of delicious fabric.
The maid waited for the others to return as if to get final opinions and confirm that Clea was now suited to present back to the king and whatever appraisers or advisors helped him.
They did not come back.
The maid paced anxiously for a few minutes. At last, she stepped out, spoke to the guards, and then left, leaving Clea sitting alone in the chair.
Staring into the mirror, Clea counted down the minutes to darkness.
Survival or truth.She thought again as she stared at this false version of herself. She still didn’t understand the choice, but couldn’t leave the question alone. She walked it like a path, unable to divert to one side or the other, to answer one way or the other.
Her mind found its way back to Ryson despite his requests. She’d tried to sift through the presences in the castle, hopeful that she’d be able to trace him.
She tried not to imagine what abuses they’d delivered to him if their attempts to revive her had been so aggressive. Maybe he was being largely neglected, too much of an inconvenience to bother with.
One could hope.
His request to leave him behind, or possibly even kill him, had been insulting.
Clea took in a breath as her anger stirred. She exhaled through her nose steadily and tried to diffuse it. She’d been angry every waking moment and didn’t need more reasons to be.
Something had changed between them in the carriage. The veils had unraveled and in a strange way he’d become obvious to her. Genuine. Only a few seconds of that and she’d known in a moment that she’d never truly felt it before.
He’d wounded her with the truth and had become a tether to something real in the world. She clasped that thread of honesty as if the universe hung from it. The irony of it was strange. The forest, despite all its illusions, had unearthed something real between them.
She wanted to explore it more. When she escaped, when they both escaped, she would.
A sound outside made her jump from the depth of her thoughts.
The maid had left the door cracked, perhaps with some intention of returning after a few short minutes. Through that window, Clea saw the bodies of her guards lying across the stone.
She slipped the golden heels from her feet and eased toward the doorway. The guards were lying unconscious outside. She looked down the hallways, sensing a heaviness in the air.
Something was wrong.
This was her chance.
Clea rushed back into the room, pulling her bag out from underthe bed and slipping her boots on. She packed her clothes and stepped out into the hallway.
Her heart pounded as she snuck through the silence, finding herself at the first staircase in less than a minute. She descended it carefully, and for what seemed like hours, navigated the castle that by all appearances was sleeping.
Clea could feel the medallion’s power growing as she tracked it, and it reminded her of when she’d taken it from King Odell. Its power had been strong. In Virday, it had been feeding off King Odell for months, maybe years. It hadn’t had long enough to attach to a new host, had it? Whoever it found, it shared a striking compatibility with them.
She slowed as she reached the final stairway. She knew at a glance that it didn’t lead to the treasury. By all appearances, it seemed to be the way to the dungeon, and the medallion pulsed inside.
More guards lay unconscious on the stairs. With a timid foot, she nudged a helmet. The guard’s head rolled to the side, but she did not awaken. Maybe one of the guards had taken the medallion when they’d rummaged through her things? Clea could only hope that whatever had happened, the thief was unconscious like the rest.
She pulled a knife from one of the guards before she descended down the stairs to the dungeon, holding fast to that hope.
It was a dim place, lit by only a few torches. More guards were lying on top of one another. Clea felt the presence of the medallion draw her forward to a bolted door at the far end ofthe hallway, searching the cells for Ryson as she passed one after the other.
Glowing eyes stared back at her from the corners of the cells. The creatures, large or small, beast or Kalex, watched her. Those that weren’t unconscious seemed highly disturbed. One behind her cawed. In response, one to her left growled. Another released a bark, another a howl and a squeal. Babbling in foreign tongues erupted from other cells. The nearer she drew to the final bolted door, the louder the beasts grew, until many of them were beating on the cages and screaming. Some tried to reach their hands or claws through the bars toward her, while others gripped them and shrieked through them.
Clea remained focused on the door until she was right before it. It was fashioned from thick layers of rust-coated iron. One lock was still done. It sat right above the handle. She examined the door, and unsure of what awaited her, she attempted to ignore the frantic calling and beating of the prisoners. She undid the lock from the outside, and the loud clang silenced the entire dungeon. As if every one of them had vanished, the prison became as quiet as a winter night.
