Page 126 of The Gilded Survivor

“Where does that lead?” I panted, looking behind him.

“The Wyvern Arch. Come on, before they figure out that this is where you came,” He ducked down, and Magda followed him without question. I had no choice but to descend as well.

“How do you know about this place?” I asked Tiago.

He glanced up at me over his shoulder before reaching the entryway to a new room. “My father spent a lot of time here as a child.”

My eyebrows furrowed, but he disappeared. All the royals were dead. Massacred by some foreign group. I doubted Santiago could remember something that happened half a century ago.

Magda guided me into the small room where Santiago was standing, and I saw the arches he had mentioned.

They were old, likely as old as the palace, and intricate designs were carved across every inch of the stone. The Artista commissioned to create them had mapped out the constellations with expert accuracy, with a single wyvern flying through the night.

My mind raced. I had seen tributes to the dead royals my whole life, but this secret, hidden world with flying beasts and hidden passageways was new to me.

“How the hell do we get past that?” Magda said.

Santiago shook his head. “We do nothing. Carmen does. If the books on the royal palace are to be believed, the only thing they need to open is royal blood.” He looked down at Magda, “It will be okay, Magdalena. I’ll take you home as soon as we are finished here,” he said, then he at me. “You know, Renata. I know you do. The Canciller can deny it all he wants, but no one other than the royal family has magic like you. I am positive La Chica Dorada can open it.”

Magda looked at him and then back at me.

I shut my eyes to the tears streaming down my eyes. Of course I knew. Martina had confirmed it.

More blood.

“Carmencita isn’t a royal. It isn’t possible.”

I opened my eyes to see that Magda’s eyebrows had drawn together so close they almost looked like one delicate arch under her forehead. “She’s… an orphan.”

“Which means we don’t know who my parents really were,” I finished for her. There had been hints here and there. Outright lies. Antonio had told me that this was a mutation, similar to what the line of kings had, the Canciller had told the commonwealth that it was a blessing from the volcanoes.

But the only answer that made sense was this. And it would be so easy to find out once and for all.

Santiago studied my face. “You didn’t know?” he sounded dubious. “San Volcán, every tabloid has been talking about it nonstop for months.”

Instead of answering, I brought my thumb to my mouth and bit down hard enough to draw forth my ichor.

I was already gold, and so was my blood. With shaking hands, I reached out and swiped my blood across the stone. A light shone, as if my blood were melting pure stone, and it spread through every crack and carving in seconds. The glow was warm, but the carving was ten times more beautiful.

Both massive slabs of stone began to move and shift out of the way.

Magda gasped. “Holy shit. It’s true,” she whispered.

A wave of stale, ancient air assaulted me. It was pitch black and damp inside of the tunnel.

“Carmen,” Santiago said, using my given name. “Get inside.”

The empty blackness scared me, much like the Canciller’s eyes.

“The passage leads to the middle forest, I think.” He explained as he gestured into the dark, dank corridor.

“You think?” I asked.

He shrugged. “It’s your safest option.” There was a finality to his tone that was hard to argue with.

I looked at my friend and took a deep breath. “Magdalena, leave this place. Find Antonio, and get out,” I demanded.

“I will take care of her,” Santiago said stoically. “But you need to go now.”

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