The Deepest Blue(55)
They’d had this conversation before. Roe felt guilty for not being more heroic and practicing being an heir, like they were supposed to do. Mayara felt no such guilt. “You’ve sensed how many spirits are out there. Do you want to face them?”
“Well, maybe not right this second, but soon. . . .”
“We need an escape route, in case they find us before we’re ready to face them.” Mayara didn’t think she’d ever be ready to confront them, but she didn’t say that to Roe. She’d be fine with avoiding the spirits for the entire month. But there was no guarantee they’d be able to stay undiscovered for so long. “The spirits are still searching. At some point, they’ll search here.” She didn’t like the way their cave made her feel cornered. Every time a spirit flew by, she felt like a mouse pinned against a wall. Any second, the cat was going to see her. Run and hide—that was the plan, but right now, they didn’t have anywhere to go. “I don’t want to wait for our luck to run out.”
“It just doesn’t feel right, all this hiding,” Roe complained.
“Then think of it as exploring,” Mayara said. “You’ve been cooped up inside a fortress your entire life. But now you have a chance to see something no other humans have seen: the heart of the most feared island in all of Belene.”
Roe perked up. “Okay, when you put it that way, it sounds a lot better.”
Mayara grinned at her. “Then let’s do it.”
Bringing the firemoss, as well as other essentials (glass shards and sharp rocks for weapons, a hollow coconut filled with freshwater, seaweed, and enough food for a day), they crawled into the darkness.
The firemoss cast a weak glow a few feet ahead of them, enough that they’d see any bottomless pits or cliff drop-offs, but not enough to shed light on what lay ahead or to alert any spirits. Mayara crawled first and then stood as the tunnel widened. She held the firemoss in one hand and a knifelike rock in the other. Roe followed behind her. It was Mayara’s job to watch the terrain, and Roe’s job to “watch” for spirits.
“Did you really never leave the fortress?” Mayara asked as they crept through the caves. She kept her voice to a whisper, even though there was no one to hear.
“I’ve never even been to a market.”
“How could your mother let them imprison you like that? She has the power of all the spirits!” Except that she didn’t, Mayara realized, because of the Deepest Blue. She opened her mouth to take back her words, but Roe was already talking again.
“I used to blame her,” Roe said. “Even hate her. When she became queen, we lost her. My grandparents tried to explain it wasn’t her fault, that she didn’t want to be queen, that she certainly didn’t want to lose us, and that I had to be a good little girl, and maybe someday, when the world wasn’t so dangerous, we’d be allowed to see her again. Until then, she needed us to stay safe.”
“You never saw her? Not once?”
“Once,” Roe said. “But only at a distance. And she never knew I was there. She visits each of the Family strongholds once a year. Usually Lord Maarte posts extra guards on us for her visits, but one year, it was a surprise visit. I was down in the kitchen, so the guards didn’t get to me as quickly as they were supposed to—and I saw her. . . .” She trailed off as if caught in the memory.
“What happened? Did she see you?”
“I was going to call out to her. And then Lord Maarte himself asked me not to—with a knife to my throat. Never liked him much after that.”
Appalled, Mayara halted and looked back at her. She couldn’t read Roe’s expression in the dim glow of the firemoss. “He threatened you?”
“We lived under constant threat—it just wasn’t always so overt,” Roe said. “Why do you think the Families have so much power? The queen knows where the storms will hit and tells the Families. But it’s the Families who then tell the heirs where to go, saying they’re passing along the words of the queen.”
“That’s why the heirs didn’t come to my village? Because Lord Maarte wanted to protect his pretty fortress?” She’d been blaming the heirs themselves, but it was Lord Maarte who let the wild spirits attack her village. He’s responsible for the deaths. “This isn’t right. You have to tell someone. No, not someone. Everyone!”
“Who? The spirits who want us dead?”
“Then you have to survive!” Mayara whispered fiercely. More islanders could die because of Lord Maarte’s selfishness. It had to be exposed. His crimes . . . He had to be punished. Or at least made so that he couldn’t stand between the queen and saving people!
“That’s the plan. Lord Maarte still holds my grandparents. Once I’m an heir, I’ll be able to see her and tell her everything, and she’ll free them.”
“And then what will you do? Once you’re all free and together?”
“Eat breakfast,” Roe said. “I want to wake up in the morning and have breakfast together, with a view of the sea. And then I want to read a book, with her next to me reading her own book. And take a walk on the beach. Just ordinary things, you know? How about you? What will you do once you’re home? If we survive and become heirs, you’ll be allowed to visit.”
Mayara thought about it. About making love to Kelo. About rejoicing in her survival with her family—they’d want to throw a party, with drummers and dancing and a shrimp buffet. But really, what she wanted was exactly what Roe had said: the ordinary moments. “An ordinary day sounds perfect.”