Page 65 of Heart's Escape

Chapter32

Phaedron

NEVER SHOULD HAVE COME

My father leads me to a dungeon. Of course.

It’s not a surprise, I’m far beyond surprise at this point, but I’m still mildly interested to realize we’re now in some sort of a castle or fortress and not at all in the dragon’s cave I expected or the elegant estate of my childhood I feared. Perhaps the dragon who took Rowan had only been another one of my father’s illusions; at this point, I doubt anything would shock me.

Wherever we are, its dungeon is massive, far larger than I’d imagine would be necessary for a fortress of this size. And it’s dank, smelly, and crowded, with voices rising off the greasy stone walls and chains rattling in the darkness. People cry out as my father marches past, his torch held high, its orange gleam licking the shadows and revealing flashes of stone, iron, and pools of murky liquid that I try not to think about.

We descend one staircase, then another, and then a third. I’m wondering where in the nine hells he’s taking me and what kind of a madman builds a dungeon with three levels when my father pulls up short. He wove an illusion of a human pushing a wheelbarrow to carry Alindra’s unconscious body, and when the illusion freezes next to me, I notice it’s even breathing. Come on, at some point, he’s just showing off. My father sweeps his torch forward, casting its uneven glare over a thick row of iron bars.

Something moves just beyond those bars, like a pile of rags. I know what it’s going to be, what it has to be. Still, when the rags twist and fall away, when the chained figure inside the cell glares at the light, the floor collapses under me. Stone hits my knees as I fall forward, my fist pressed to my lips.

It’s my brother, or a nightmare version of him. The torch sways sickeningly over a body that’s much too thin beneath a heavy loop of black chain, with features that have been twisted and maimed. And, voids below, hisface—

“Fuck off,” Rowan growls from between the bars.

Shock and revulsion ripple through my gut as I stare at my brother’s face.They’re hurting him, Arryn said, back in the cozy comfort of our little home in the World’s End. So, yes, I knew what I was going to find. But somehow knowing what you’ll find and actually finding it are two very different things.

“I’m not here for you,” Varitan replies.

Pain spikes through my leg, although it isn’t until Varitan kicks me again that I connect the spike of pain with my father’s heavy boot hitting me in the thigh. I stagger to my feet; the back of my throat tastes like blood. Rowan makes a noise like he’s choking, but it’s quickly drowned out by the metallic rattle of a key entering a lock. The cell door creaks open, and Varitan holds his hand out like he’s offering me entrance into a grand ballroom. Rowan stares at me, one pale, wild eye wide, and the other—

Gagging, I stumble into the cell and fall at Rowan’s feet. He looks like something that’s been fished out of the void, like the sum of every nightmare I’ve ever had. This is exactly what I always feared, that my brother would suffer and I wouldn’t be there to protect him.

That I would fail.

I spread my arm wide and Rowan collapses forward, his shoulders trembling against my chest as I wrap my arm around the thin, ragged blanket on his back. A length of dark, glossy chain wraps his chest and connects to manacles on his wrists. Rowan makes gasping, choking sounds, burying his face in my chest like he did when he was a child and old enough that he didn’t want me to see him cry, and I pull my cloak around my ruined shoulder and press the fabric gently against his bruises. As if that could help.

There’s another rattling sound. I glance over my shoulder and watch Varitan dump Alindra in the cell beside us. One of her arms is pinned beneath her body, her face rests on the filthy floor of the cell, and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about any of it.

I’ve failed her just as thoroughly as I’ve failed Rowan.

The torch’s uneven light fades slowly, along with the thud of my father’s boots over the rough stone of the dungeon’s floor. Rowan’s breath calms, and when he leans back I spin an illusion almost reflexively. It’s the same little light I used when we lived in the forest, when Rowan would wake trembling from some nightmare, his body stiff and tears streaking down his little cheeks. Small and golden, the illusion floats in the air between us like an infant sun.

Rowan’s lip curls back as the wreckage of his face is revealed. He’s filthy, covered with fading bruises and dried blood, with one eye glaring at me.

And his other eye is gone. There’s a twist of angry red scar tissue across the left side of his face and a gaping hole where his left eye used to be. I lean forward, wanting to at least wipe the dirt away.

Rowan flinches back. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he snarls. “You never should have come!”

I open my mouth, and the truth of it hits me square in the chest. My breath leaks out like bubbles rising in the wake of a sinking ship. I feel entirely hollow.

“I—I failed,” I say.

I meet Rowan’s gaze, my words ringing inside the emptiness of my chest.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I let you down. I let everyone down—”

Rowan’s face twists, and he makes a sound like a sob. My shoulders curl in, as though the emptiness inside of me is a drain, tugging the rest of the world down with me.

“You dipshit,” Rowan says, and I realize he’s not sobbing. He’s laughing.

Something flashes through the ringing emptiness inside of my chest, a bright flare of irritation. Rowan shakes his head at me like he always does, as if we’re back at home and he’s teasing me about applying yet again to join the Royal Guard.

“Everyone fails,” Rowans says, with a sort of lopsided grin. “All the time. Fail, fail, fail. That’s what life is, Phae. It’s a bunch of fails strung together, with a few little freak sprinkles of success.”

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