Phoenix Flame - Sara Holland Page 0,53
Brekken or Graylin, even though we were supposed to stay together. Everything else flew out of my mind when I read my brother’s name, and then saw the real him. I hope they’re okay. I hope …
Nahteran leads us down to the lower levels of the estate, whereas earlier Brekken and Cadius had led me up. Here the ornamentation in the halls doesn’t just get simpler, it disappears entirely. The light too. The oil lamps get fewer and farther between and then cease altogether. I move up beside Nahteran and pull out a flashlight, another of the useful things Marcus made us pack. It’s too dark to see Nahteran’s face, but he makes a surprised noise, almost a laugh.
“What is it?” I whisper, my frayed nerves making every stray sound and movement feel ten times more conspicuous than it probably is.
“I haven’t seen one of those in so long,” Nahteran says. “Can I hold it?”
The simple wonder at such a mundane object makes a quick shot of pain jolt through my heart. Wordlessly, I pass the flashlight over to him. I want to ask him so many things—what he missed most about our world, about us—but now isn’t the time.
“Where is everyone?” I ask, making sure to keep my voice to a whisper, as the hall narrows on either side of us. “It seems like Winterkill should have guards everywhere.”
“It does seem that way, doesn’t it?” Nahteran laughs again, but this time it’s a cold, sharp sound, empty of humor. “But no. It’s been like this every time I’ve come here. Cadius is careless, but it says more about this world than about him, doesn’t it?”
I look up toward my brother, wishing I could make out his expression. Fiorden eyes can see in the dark, probably, but all I can make out is the vague shape of Nahteran beside me, and the circle of dirty stone floor ahead of us illuminated with the flashlight.
“What do you mean? I’m not following.”
“Cadius doesn’t feel threatened,” Nahteran says. “All these guests coming through the doors, the fact that almost anyone could get in—Cadius allows that because he doesn’t feel there’s a risk to his enterprise. And he’s right, there isn’t.”
As the anger grows in Nahteran’s voice, so too does his Oasis accent, I note with unease. The way he phrases things, the calm that prevails no matter what he’s talking about—it’s hard to put my finger on why, but it all reminds me of the Silver Prince.
“No one cares,” Nahteran says, the end of the last word escaping in a hiss through his teeth. “No one will stop him. They all know about the soul trade, and they let it continue because of the profit it brings them.”
My blood quickens to finally, finally feel my rage echoed in another. I know Marcus hates the soul trade, as does Graylin and the Heiress, and everyone I know working to stop it. Yet … maybe it’s because they’ve been fighting the fight for so long, but sometimes it feels like their anger is blunted. Logically, I know it makes sense to take steps to protect Havenfall from the Silver Prince before going off to chase the traders. Isolated as we are on our mountaintop, we can’t help anyone if the Silver Prince overruns us. But the thought of doing nothing while people are suffering still rankles. Especially once I knew one of them might be my brother. Nate. Nahteran.
“We’ll finish it,” I promise him. “You and I.”
It’s still dark, but I think I catch the flash of teeth as he smiles.
Soon, though, the quiet dissipates into a distant, muted clatter of shouts and clangs. It’s the sound of a fight. My heart leaps into my throat, and I quicken my steps, breaking into a half run, Nahteran at my heels.
“Left,” he hisses at a fork in the hallway, and I veer left.
The flashlight beam bobs and jerks erratically in Nahteran’s hand, and I can hardly see. I think the hallway is narrowing, but I don’t care. The faint noise gets louder and louder until I spot a rectangle of murky grayish-blue light, an open door, ahead.
I run faster, but just as I’m about to hurtle over the threshold, Nahteran grabs me across the waist, stopping me short. I wheeze, the wind knocked out of me, confused and indignant until my eyes adjust to the light and I see what’s ahead of me. A thin wooden railing, just a couple of feet past the door, not