Fearless (18 page)

Thane goes quiet. Nobody speaks while he contemplates his brother's offer: to construct a wall that will replace the damaged gate with a combination of elements that nothing can break through, while monitoring the wall himself with his own soldiers for as long as it takes.

Thane looks at me and raises his eyebrows.

I run my hands through my hair. ‘Whatever it takes, we gotta get Ebony out.'

‘And we must do it
quickly
,' Isaac says, emphasising the word, then adding softly under his breath, ‘if it's not too late.'

Everyone knows what he means. The thought that Ebony might already be carrying the Dark Prince's child is too much, and Thane turns ghostly white. It seems to help him make up his mind. ‘I hold the right to decide whether to submit a report to the Courts,' he says. ‘But since I don't have a better alternative, and time is not on our side –' he holds out his hand – ‘Gabriel, I accept your offer.'

19

Ebony

I'm dreaming that someone has their hand over my mouth and I can't breathe. The dream-me throws my own hands around my assailant's throat and squeezes.

Then two things happen simultaneously. I wake up, and I realise the small, warm hand on my mouth belongs to Mela.

I drop my hands immediately from around her throat.

Gasping, Mela stumbles back into the armchair against the wall. ‘I didn't mean to frighten you,' she croaks, touching her throat tenderly.

By now I'm crawling across the bed after her, quickly reorienting from the mix of dream and reality that threw me for an instant.

‘Why did you do that?' I whisper, tugging her fingers down and checking her neck gently. ‘Nothing feels broken, but you'll probably bruise.' I sit back on my heels. ‘You're lucky I don't have a knife tucked under my pillow.'
Yet
, I add silently.

She lights a small glass-encased lantern she brought with her and says so softly I can hardly hear her, ‘I thought we could take a ride.'

‘In the middle of the night?' I reply just as softly. ‘Why
didn't you tell me at dinner? I wouldn't have tried to strangle you.'

She flicks a look at the door and puts a finger to her lips, whispering even more softly, ‘There was a late change of guards and I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to arrange my little surprise. You've wanted to get out since you got here, and I just now received word that everything is arranged.'

She brings me an all-black riding outfit from my wardrobe, keeping her voice extremely low. ‘We have to return before the next change of your guards, so dress quickly.' She grins. ‘I have a lot to show you.'

My eyes dart around the room as I put on a long-sleeve polo shirt, jodhpurs and boots. ‘Who else knows? Is anyone coming with us?'

‘I have friends waiting outside.'

Friends? A midnight ride?
Tingles trip down my spine.
Could Mela have reconsidered using her position as general of the rebel army to help me escape?

She places a black cloak around my shoulders, bringing the fur-lined hood low over my forehead before doing the same to herself. She then stuffs pillows under the quilt to resemble my sleeping body. From the doorway it's not a bad disguise, but she must be counting on no one taking a close look.

We move into the small hallway, where my glance goes to the front doors. They remain closed. In the other di
rectio
n, the amber glow of a candle flickers from within her bedroom, where the door is slightly ajar. My heart is starting to beat rapidly.

Once inside her room, with the door closed, I have to ask, ‘Mela, are you helping me escape?'

She looks suddenly wretched.

‘Hey, it's all right,' I reassure her. ‘I'm glad to get out, see something different.'
Something that might help me escape as soon as I'm ready to make my run.

Taking my hand, Mela leads me through a half-size door entrenched in a timber shelving unit that appears to be nothing more than the lower half of a wood-panelled wall.

You wouldn't know the door existed unless you knew where to look.

Mela brings the lantern with us and I follow her with blind faith through a pitch-black tunnel to a door that opens into a narrow space between the walls of a pair of guest suites she assures me are vacant. We exit into a dusky utility room, stepping carefully around buckets, brooms and mops before crawling through a hatch at the opposite end that leads to the top of a spiral stairwell. There is no lift here, and no guards like before when Mela showed me to my rooms.

Mela gives me a quick glance that asks how I'm holding up. I nod and she points to the stairs, clearly mouthing ‘nine'. I nod again, letting her know I get that there are nine flights we have to descend, which would put us one floor below ground since there were eight floors up to my rooms on the top level.

Mela treads briskly and I follow, being careful not to trip on the floor-length cloak that insists on getting between the stairs and my boots.

It turns out there are more underground floors but this is where we get off.

Setting the lamp down on the floor, Mela leaps across a void about a metre square to a narrow ledge at the foot of a brick wall, then motions with her hand for me to follow. She makes it look easy. It likely is, but not so much for a human. Mela, I'm fast learning, is no ordinary human. I take a deep breath and follow. Her grin is my reward.

Removing a square panel of fake bricks from the wall, we step into a tunnel large enough to stand in. There's just enough light from the lamp we left behind coming through to see our way to the end, where Mela turns the handle on a door and opens it.

‘Not locked?' I ask.

She shakes her head. ‘Only because someone left it unlocked for us.'

And suddenly I'm outside on a dark night, the air a mix of odd rancid smells. Even knowing the air is toxic, I take a deep breath, content for the moment to savour a sense of being free.

I follow Mela through shrubs and clinging vines to a narrow cobbled lane, where, up ahead and tucked into a dark driveway, I spot the tails of four horses.

We make our way there, hugging fences and gates and trees for cover. Looking back over my shoulder, I see the massive white perimeter wall with soldiers in their creepy helmets patrolling the top.

I cover my mouth to stop from squealing with excitement.

There
is
a way out.

And my handmaiden just showed me it. Mela – connected to me through the Guardian bond I have with her son – is the key to my freedom from Luca. She just doesn't know it yet. She may not be willing to help me escape, and I won't do anything to jeopardise her army or her position at its head, but now I know how to escape the palace on my own. It's just a matter of time to build up my powers and get my wings working. I don't care if I have to live in a cave for a hundred years; as long as I'm not with Luca I have hope that one day Nathaneal and I will be reunited.

Keeping the horses quiet are two male Seraphim angels, wearing long coats with hats that keep their faces in shadow. They acknowledge us with a nod, stepping back as we each take a set of reins. They maintain their distance behind us as we walk the horses away from the palace, sticking to the shoulder where high fences and walls with trees and bushes give us cover.

It really is uplifting to be out of the apartment. I take in everything I can, from the shuttered shopfronts to the neat houses, contemporary apartment buildings, communal garages and even stables, all shrouded in darkness.

Suddenly the swish of beating wings and a cat-like screech rends the air. I drop down, tilting my head back, as a giant bird flies overhead with a snake at least a hundred metres long dangling from its claws.

Mela motions to pull my hood back into place, dismissing the shrieking bird carrying his midnight snack as too common an event to make a fuss over.

Walking by her side a few minutes later, I ask quietly, ‘Why are there no lights in this part of the city?'

‘There's a curfew in the sectors surrounding the palace,' she answers. ‘It makes it easier for the patrols to spot uninvited guests.'

When Mela thinks we're far enough, she stops and offers me a leg up, but I'm already gripping the saddle bar and hoisting myself over as I have done thousands of times before. It's like I can breathe better up here than when my feet are on the ground.

The mare allocated to me is taller and broader than Shadow. A sturdy war horse comes to mind, or they just grow horses bigger here. I run my hand through her luscious mane down to her shoulder and try to ignore the sudden ache in my chest at the thought of Shadow at home waiting for me.

While we were looking out of my windows earlier today, Mela explained how to tell direction in Skade using the river to indicate south, the gates north, the cliffs west and the factories with the rolling mountains behind them east.

So with the river on our right and the shimmering gates high in the sky on our left, I figure we're riding … ‘Are you going to show me the factories?'

‘Not this time, but one day soon. Ebony, I need to warn you that no matter what you see or hear tonight, for your own safety, stay on your horse.'

At this ominous warning we ride straight through the clean, quiet streets of the inner city, with their tall buildings of pristine darkened glass, into rowdy streets of stone and brick high-rise apartment buildings with broken windows, portions of walls missing, vacant lots piled with garbage and animals furrowing through it. I focus on the animals until
shapes take form, and when they do I gasp. They're not animals. And my heart twists at the sight of the scavenging angelic children who have not yet reached school age.

Mela turns me gently away. ‘Come on, we've more to see.'

‘But, Mela –'

‘Food is expensive. It can get scarce in these areas, even for angels.'

Mela's Seraphim friends move up close and I soon understand why, when drunk, cursing angels start fighting inside a pub on street level, while scantily clad souls, both male and female, hanging off the arms of angels in long tailored coats and shiny shoes, gather around to watch. These streets are where the stronger, wealthier angels get their kicks by slumming it with the poor, desperate souls, and apparently poor and desperate angels too.

A three-headed monkey scurries past, squealing, while another, bigger animal, the type of which I've never seen before, lumbers after it with such a heavy gait it could pass as an elephant seal but for its four stubby legs.

At a busy corner a nightclub flashes red and blue neon lights while pumping loud, suggestive dance music into the street. A huge bodyguard stares at us as we pass. I keep my eyes averted, but can still see the swathe of gyrating angels dancing with each other inside, near-naked souls serving drinks while both angels and souls perform impossible gymnastic moves inside suspended cages.

Mela whispers, ‘Angels as well as souls live in these areas. Criminals, escapees, the homeless, the clinically depressed – and their lives are only marginally better than those of the souls sent here.'

An argument on the ground floor turns quickly into a vicious fight with swords and knives flashing. Blood splatters across a window and Mela's friends hurry us away, though not quite fast enough. The window smashes. As Mela's friends protect us with their wings, I spot a furry animal floating in a street trough nearby. By its stench, it's clear the animal has been decaying for days.

Why no one has removed it yet boggles the mind. Where are the sanitary workers I see through my windows every morning?

Mela's angel friends know a shortcut back to the palace, and once we pass the stinking trough with the dead carcass I move my mare up beside hers. ‘OK, I've seen it now, the slum area where both angels and souls live in squalor and are preyed upon by wealthy angels. I assume the souls here are those Luca hasn't processed yet. And the angels are the socially disadvantaged for one reason or another. But what I don't see is why you brought me here. You could have just told me all this, pointed out my windows, and saved yourself a lot of trouble.'

She's quiet for so long that we reach the curfew sectors surrounding the palace before she turns to me and says, ‘I needed you to
feel
the tragedy of their existence. Even in the wealthier areas there are still problems. The air is just as unclean. Over time their constantly self-healing lungs take longer to recover and they are more susceptible to illness. So they look for ways to escape, some turning to mind-numbing drugs and alcohol, some attempting to leave the city. When they're caught, their homes are confiscated and they end up in places like those I showed you tonight.'

‘Why me?' Even as I ask, my stomach twists with the answer. I saw it in the eyes of both angels and souls that first morning on the balcony. They looked at me and saw
hope.

‘Ebony, there is much more of Skade for you to see. When King Luca is positive you won't try to escape, he will show you the best parts. The impressive parts that make him look good. But I will show you all of it over time, and you will be able to make your own, informed decisions.'

Over time? Make my own decisions?
And here I am hoping, with this beautiful mare beneath me … I look up at the gates, a shimmering beacon of white light in the dark night sky, and I wonder if this mare can fly like Nathaneal told me horses do in Avena. But with the gates sealed, what is the point of even dreaming of escaping?

‘Mela, what is it you think I can do for these people?'

‘Until you are queen you can't do anything except get to know them, and how Skade functions. Just your presence uplifts them. But after your coronation, Ebony, you will have the power to change laws.'

Oh jeez, she's pinning her hopes on me too. But how is that fair? I don't belong here. I don't belong in Skade. And I'm not staying. ‘Mela, I'm still sixteen, and I know the Code of Free Will is universal. He can't make me do anything I don't want …' The look on her face makes me freeze. ‘What is it? What aren't you telling me?'