Chapter 2 The Journey

The officer mounted his own horse, then looked back at the palace. At the crumbling walls and broken windows and all the visible proof that Lumenvale had never recovered from its defeat. His expression was unreadable.

"For what it's worth," he said, not looking at Thessaly, "that was either very brave or very foolish."

"Can't it be both?"

He almost smiled. Almost. "Let's hope the king agrees."

They rode out as the sun fully crested the mountains, and Thessaly didn't look back. Couldn't look back, because if she saw her brother standing there, or her mother's face, or Isleen waving from the tower window, she might lose what was left of her nerve.

The journey would take three days, the officer told her. Three days to reach the Shadow Realm's border, and then another day through the mountains to the palace itself. Four days of riding until she'd stand before the man who'd destroyed everything she'd ever known.

Thessaly's hands wouldn't stop shaking.

She tucked them against her sides, trying to hide the tremor, but the soldier riding next to her noticed. He was younger than the others, barely old enough to shave, with kind eyes that didn't match his grim armor.

"First time leaving home?" he asked quietly.

Thessaly nodded, not trusting her voice.

"It gets easier. The fear, I mean." He shifted in his saddle. "Not that you have reason to be afraid. The king's not... well. He's not what people say."

"What do people say?"

The young soldier opened his mouth, then closed it again. Glanced at the officer riding ahead of them. "Maybe you should form your own opinion."

That sounded ominous.

They rode in silence after that, and Thessaly watched the landscape change around them. The ruins of her kingdom gave way to wild forests, then to farmland that actually looked cared for, then to small villages where people stopped what they were doing to stare at their procession.

Nobody waved. Nobody smiled. They just watched with the kind of careful neutrality that meant they'd learned not to draw attention to themselves.

By the time they stopped for the night, Thessaly's entire body ached. She'd ridden horses before, but never for this long, and never with her hands bound. The soldiers made camp efficiently, and someone brought her a blanket and a bowl of something that might have been stew.

She ate mechanically, not tasting anything, and tried not to think about what would happen when they reached the Shadow Realm. The king would want answers she didn't have. He'd ask about Malachi's supposed conspiracy, and she wouldn't be able to tell him anything because she'd been locked in a tower for most of her life. She was useless as a hostage and worthless as a source of information.

So why had he wanted to speak with her family at all?

"You should sleep," the young soldier said, dropping another blanket beside her. "Long day tomorrow."

"They're all going to be long days now, aren't they?"

He didn't have an answer for that.

Thessaly lay down on the hard ground and stared up at the stars. Different stars than she saw from her tower window. Foreign constellations that meant she was already too far from home to find her way back, even if she could somehow escape.

Not that she wanted to escape. That was the worst part—some tiny, traitorous part of her was almost excited. Terrified, yes, but also curious. For nineteen years she'd been nowhere, done nothing, been nobody. At least now she was going somewhere. Doing something. Even if that something might get her killed.

Sleep came eventually, fitful and full of dreams she couldn't quite remember when she woke.

They rode for three more days.

The landscape shifted again, becoming darker, colder. The trees grew taller and closer together, their branches so thick overhead that the sunlight barely filtered through. Everything felt muted here, like the world was holding its breath.

"The Shadow Realm," the officer announced on the fourth morning. "We'll reach the palace by nightfall."

Thessaly's mouth went dry.

The day crept by with agonizing slowness. Every mile brought them closer to whatever fate was waiting, and Thessaly found herself memorizing everything—the way the moss grew on the north side of the trees, the sound of a stream they forded, the particular shade of gray the sky turned before twilight. If these were going to be her last hours of freedom, she wanted to remember them.

The palace appeared suddenly, rising out of the mountains like it had been carved from the stone itself. It was massive—bigger than anything Thessaly had seen, bigger than Lumenvale had been even before the war. Black obsidian walls caught the dying light and threw it back in sharp angles, and towers stretched up so high their peaks disappeared into low-hanging clouds.

It was beautiful.

It was terrifying.

It was nothing like the ruin she'd left behind.

They passed through gates that opened silently, into a courtyard where more soldiers waited. The palace loomed over everything, and Thessaly had to tilt her head back to see the top of the nearest tower. Somewhere in there was the Shadow King. Somewhere in that massive, imposing structure was the man who'd led the army that killed her father, burned her home, and destroyed her entire world.

And she'd just volunteered to meet him.

The officer dismounted and gestured for Thessaly to do the same. Her legs nearly gave out when her feet hit the ground—four days of riding had left her stiff and unsteady. A soldier caught her elbow before she could fall, and she mumbled thanks through numb lips.

"This way." The officer started toward the palace entrance.

Thessaly followed because what else could she do? Her bound hands made everything awkward, and she stumbled twice on the smooth obsidian steps. Nobody offered to help her the second time. They just waited, patient and impassive, while she struggled to keep up.

The entrance hall was cavernous. Vaulted ceilings disappeared into shadow, and the walls were lined with torches that burned with flames tinged slightly blue. Everything echoed—footsteps, breathing, the hammering of Thessaly's heart that she was sure everyone could hear.

They walked for what felt like miles through corridors that twisted and turned, up staircases and down hallways until Thessaly had no idea which direction they'd come from. Deliberate, probably. Can't escape if you don't know the way out.

Finally, they stopped in front of massive double doors made of some dark wood she didn't recognize. The officer knocked once, a sharp sound that made Thessaly flinch.

"Enter." The voice from inside was deep, measured, utterly empty of emotion.

The doors swung open.

The room beyond was some kind of study or war room—maps covered one wall, and a large table dominated the center, currently empty except for a single document. But Thessaly barely noticed any of that because there was a man standing at the window, silhouetted against the twilight sky, and every instinct she had was screaming at her to run.

He turned.