Braj were even more horrifying to her than dragons. They were vicious killers, who were all but invisible in the shadows. It was said that if a person ever saw the true face of a Braj, it would be the last thing they would ever see. The monsters would carve off the faces of their victims and wear them as a prize.

"Did you know that Affiliates and High Order were once warriors?" the high-pitched voice asked.

"Warriors?" she asked. She had not heard such a thing before.

"Oh yes."

"That's not right. After Viktor Dremylon destroyed the Doma, he created Affiliates and High Order for the restoration of Byern. He wanted the country to flourish, and he used the Cla.s.s system with his new Affiliates and High Order at its head to bring about the peace the citizens all so desperately desired," Cyrene told them.

"Yet what exactly were they restoring?" a man in a fierce lion mask asked.

"They were restoring the lands for the prosperity of Byern," she said tentatively. "They were restoring education and knowledge for the people. They were restoring order to the world that they now ruled."

What else would they have been restoring? The Doma had ruled for too long. They hadn't seen the plight of the everyday people. Viktor Dremylon had saved Byern.

"And how do you best restore order?" the Braj-masked woman asked.

Cyrene blankly stared forward. It took her a second to piece together what the Braj had meant. After Viktor had pushed the Doma out of Byern, he'd had to restore order and implement his Cla.s.s system. She had never thought to question how he'd done it. And now that she was, it dawned on her.

Oh Creator! She had been backed into a corner.

The best way to restore order after rebellion was surely through...force.

"He used his warriors to restore order," she said, understanding it for the first time. "The first generation of Affiliates and High Order were people he could trust through and through. They were Viktor Dremylon's...warriors."

The Dragon laughed. "Yes, it is true, and now, you know it. The answer we must know is whether or not you are a warrior."

"You want to know if I'm a warrior?"

"Yes, and you must prove it to us now," the dwarf squeaked out, "as we do not believe you belong among us."

"How can I-"

"You will prove it!" the Dragon called out. "You will prove that you are worthy of such a t.i.tle."

"We will leave in a moment and lock the door behind us," the peac.o.c.k interrupted. "You must find a way to exit this cave and return to your quarters. If you make it, speak of this to no one. If you make it, then you can consider yourself a warrior, an Affiliate, in truth."

"Be warned. You are not the only thing in the room." The Braj giggled.

Cyrene stared at them in utter shock. She was supposed to escape this cave, wearing only her shift, in the dead of night with something else in here. Are they absolutely mad?

"What if I choose not to?"

"Then, you will die," the peac.o.c.k said with bloodl.u.s.t in her voice.

Slowly, the two rows of people stood and crossed the room to the door. A lock clicked in place, and the sudden all-consuming feeling of being alone wrenched itself over her heart. Panic seized her consciousness, and she forced herself to breathe in through her nose and out through her mouth. She needed to keep her wits about her and think.

A torch glowed in a metal slot next to the door, and she jerked it from where it hung. The flame skittered along the lakefront as she searched for something, anything that might help her. She walked half the length of the cave floor and found nothing but water through the entire room. Thrusting the torch out in front of her, she gazed out into the depths revealed by its light. The flames showed no more than a few additional feet in front of her. She gnashed her teeth together in frustration.

How in the name of the Creator do I get out of here?

Still shivering in her soaked nightgown, she returned to the center of the room. What did I see when I entered before they had humiliated me, pitched me in darkness, and left me to die? Red stalact.i.tes, the lake, the river, the boats- The boats!

Cyrene rushed back in the direction of the entrance and gazed out across the flat lake. She would no doubt be unable to man the huge boats alone, and she did not think that she had the skills to do so. The skiffs though were closer and smaller. If she could find an oar among them, then she could paddle her way out of this dank h.e.l.lhole, regardless of what the river current might be outside of the cave.

Unfortunately, the skiffs were tied quite a bit farther than she had originally thought. It wasn't too far to swim by any means, but can I even get in the water? What is the thing the Braj had warned me about?

Beyond the depths of the Keylani River, Cyrene had never seen so much water. With the Fallen Desert creeping closer and closer on the other side of the river, scant water survived a summer season. She knew what could be within the depths for she had studied aquatic life, but the real question was if anything could survive in such an endlessly dark lake under the Taken Mountains.

Running the torch along the edge where the mountain met the lake, Cyrene searched for footholds or a ledge that could help her cross. A ridge on the opposite side led up to a dock, but she didn't know how deep the water was, and she certainly couldn't jump that far.

She cursed under her breath, smashed the torch back in its holder, and paced in circles. She didn't want to believe that the masked figures would have put her down here in a hopeless situation. There had to be a way out, and she would find it.

If only the stupid lake would just recede!

A spark lit in her chest at her thought. She felt a tug back to the waterline. Staring at the ledge on the other side, paces away from where she was, she resigned herself to the fact that there was no other way to get out of the cave than to get to those boats.

Cyrene grabbed the torch once more and returned to the edge. She swallowed hard before placing her toe in the water. Surprisingly, it was warm, nearly the temperature of bath water. She sank her foot deeper into the depths, silently praying she might reach the bottom or at least something that would help her get to the other side.

When she was knee-deep in the water, her foot jarred roughly against a jagged rock. She cried out. Wheeling backward, she pulled her leg out of the water. The cut across the ball of her foot was shallow but bleeding more than she would have liked.

Gritting her teeth, she shoved her foot back into the water and found the rock again. She tested her weight on it, and it didn't budge. She sighed happily and eased her other leg into the water. She carefully kicked her leg out in front of her, and to her relief, she found another rock. Ignoring the pain in her foot, she nearly giggled when she located another and another.

A ripple pulsed in the water.

Cyrene froze stiffly. There it was-another ripple. Her heart hammered against her chest.

What's out there?

She was as close to the ledge as to where she had started. She had to risk it. A ripple closer than the last steeled her nerve, and she dashed across another group of stones as fast as her feet would carry her through the black water. She didn't dare look across the lake as she searched desperately for secure footing.

The ledge was up ahead, and all she could hear behind her were snapping jaws. Her breath came out ragged as the sounds approached faster and faster, gaining on her. Without a second thought, Cyrene dived for the ledge. Narrowly making it, she landed roughly on her right side, skidding against the rough stone. As she rolled away from the lakefront, she lost her torch in the process.

Her face shot up from her crouched position in time to see a pack of feral fish with red scales and razor-sharp teeth jumping eagerly out of the water toward her. She screamed and skittered farther away from the edge. Several flapped against the ledge, ferociously snapping their jaws before crashing back into the depths.

Rising uneasily to her wobbly legs, Cyrene forced the image of dying by flesh-eating fish out of her brain.

She had torn her shift in several places, and ma.s.sive bruises blossomed on her hip, knee, and shoulder. In addition to sc.r.a.pes on her leg and shoulder, a trail of blood ran down her right leg from her knee. Ripping off a piece of her nightgown, she tied it around the injury as best as she could. She would deal with it when she got out of here.

Striving not to put pressure on her right side, Cyrene teetered over to the edge of the wall and grabbed another torch, this one dim and barely flickering. Blowing on it brought the flame back to life. She tried to open the only visible door, but it was locked, so she moved back to the docks.

She yanked an oar out of the smallest boat, the only one she might be capable of rowing by herself, and untied it from the end of the dock. After seating herself within, she shoved off and allowed herself to drift out on the open waters.

Tentatively, she dipped the oar into the water and waited for the little monsters to come back.

Nothing moved in the cavernous lake.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Cyrene painstakingly rowed herself toward the large arch exit. She didn't waste her time with the other doors, a.s.suming they would also be locked.

After what felt like an eternity, Cyrene approached the huge carved doorway, molded with gray-and-black stone that was similar to the interior of the castle. She rowed under the arch, and the boat collided with something, emitting a loud gong-like sound. She sprawled backward onto the planks of the boat. Her small boat swayed from the force of the impact, and she waited until it stilled.

Cyrene righted herself and let her fingers graze a smooth metal surface. No wonder the inside of the cave was black as night. It was closed off from the outside world. Her gaze scoured the archway and found a thick worn iron chain. She grappled with it and gave it a tentative tug. A creak set the hairs on the back of her neck on edge, and the water rippled around the door where it moved marginally away from the wall.

The heavy metal chain tensed her shoulders as she pulled it, hand over hand. Voices sounded over the drone of the metal door screeching against the rock archway, and Cyrene rested her cracked hands as she craned her neck and listened. She hadn't thought anyone else could access the cave.

The voices picked up again, but Cyrene couldn't decipher what they were saying. She couldn't see anyone, yet the voices were getting clearer. Then, her gaze landed on something in the water. Her stomach sank through her body, and she held back the nausea that threatened her.

A Skrivner snake.

Even though she couldn't make out the entire outline of the body, she was sure of it, and she wasn't going to wait around for it to get any closer. A Skrivner was the deadliest water snake. Its three-inch-long fangs caused hallucinations as the snake feasted on the blood of the victim. Plus it could mimic human sounds, and if she was right, then that was where the voices were coming from.

Ignoring the sharp pains in her hands and the blood she'd left behind on the chain, Cyrene wrenched it with every ounce of strength she had in her aching muscles. The metal door seemed to move even slower than before, as if her efforts were becoming more futile. She muttered every curse word her father had ever used as she heaved the chain putting her shoulders, back, and legs into the motion of yanking on the insufferable chain.

She glanced over her shoulder just once. The Skrivner approached fast, his crimson eyes bright with bloodl.u.s.t.

Finally, the door opened far enough for her to be able to maneuver the boat through. She quickly tied off the chain, sank back down, picked up the oar, and paddled like the prize of becoming consort waited on the other side.

Tonight was not her night to die. She had too much to accomplish. She still had to see the world!

With one final push, she glided forward through the archway, and a fast-moving current seized her boat. She swiveled around in her seat to see the Skrivner strike out at her, but it was just out of reach, so it slithered back into the black lake.

"By the Creator!"

Tears trickled down her face while blood boiled under the surface of her skin. She had never felt happier to be alive.

At the first turn, she paddled off the current. The river flowed more smoothly down this path. Her head swelled with curiosity as rowed past several more turns. Where did they all lead?

Her mind focused on the bits and pieces she knew of the underground pa.s.sageways within the castle. Hidden doors wound up to the rooms above, and some even led to the grounds themselves. Finding one that might be open was her only chance.

She traversed the pathways, pa.s.sing doors with giant iron locks on the outside. Someone had been down here long ago to prevent intruders from infiltrating the castle. Cyrene panicked at the thought. If they are all locked up tight, then how can I find a way out?

A spark ignited in her chest, and out of it, a thought flickered to the surface. Believe in those whose honor doth shine.

Where did I read that? Cyrene didn't have a clue, but somehow, it felt right. It just felt right.

Her heart beat in her temples, her bloodied fingers, and her splintered feet as she searched out the inscriptions on the doors before her. She didn't want to think about how many doors lay within these walls or of the possibility that none of them would lead her out of here or what would happen if she encountered another Skrivner, feral fish, or the mouth of the Keylani.

Then, as if she had conjured it up from nowhere, a door without a padlock appeared with words gleaming on the surface. She could just make out the words shine and honor. She didn't have another option. This one had to be it.

Groaning in weary relief, she rowed toward the ledge. She barely made it as her throbbing arms worked against the current. After tying up the boat to a peg stuck in the ground, Cyrene exited the boat, reached forward for the door, and recited the words that she felt were her saving grace, "Believe in those whose honor doth shine."

The door easily swung open at the touch of her fingers, and she entered into a small dusty room, empty of all belongings. This entrance had surely not been used for years.

Her legs felt like lead as she followed a winding flat pathway upward for what felt like an eternity. Finally she reached a large cellar door that blocked the pa.s.sage in front of her. She pushed it open with her shoulder. Hay exploded all around her, sticking to her skin that was slick with water, blood, and sweat. Cyrene coughed at the sudden onslaught and shielded her eyes with her arm against the brightness. Light filtered in through the slats of the stable, but thankfully, Cyrene didn't see anyone else.

After stepping through the cellar door, she closed it and covered the area over with hay again. Since the door had clearly fallen into disuse, the last thing she wanted was for people to notice it.

As she started to walk cautiously away from the door, she hit something st.u.r.dy and toppled forward. Gasping, she landed hard on a solid body. Her eyes flew open, and she struggled to get away from the man beneath her. When he didn't move, she lightly nudged him with her uninjured foot. After everything that had happened to her tonight, she prayed to the Creator that he wasn't dead.

A gargling noise came from the man, and she blew out a breath.

As he sat up and stared at her through bleary bloodshot eyes, she scrambled to her feet. He didn't look much older than her, but he already had the body of a st.u.r.dy hunter. He had haphazardly tousled dark brown hair intertwined with hay. Blood and dirt caked one side of his face where he had been lying down. His clothes weren't in a much better state. One sleeve hung almost completely off, and he had a gash across the stomach of his shirt. It looked as if it had been sliced through with a knife, but she saw no blood. His pants were frayed at the ends, and he had somehow managed to lose just one boot.

"What ya want?" he grumbled, closing his eyes and pressing his hand to his head.

"For you to get your putrid stink away from me," she said with no tolerance for anyone after this night's events.

Cyrene was surprised to find her voice unchanged. After running, rowing, pulling, and climbing her way away from her own death, she'd thought it would have changed somehow, yet she still sounded strong, maybe even stronger.

He roared with laughter and then covered his mouth as he leaned away from her. He held his side and coughed into his hand. After a minute, he turned back to face Cyrene and really seemed to look at her. His eyes bulged, and he whistled lowly. "What in the Creator's name happened to you?"

Cyrene blushed despite herself. She didn't even want to know what she looked like in her torn white shift. Her body was relatively numb at this point, but she knew the extent of her injuries-sliced open foot; bruised everything; aching and cramped arms and shoulders; bloodied hands and fingers; stiff legs-but it was better than being dead.

"What happened to you?" she countered.

He looked nearly as bad as she did.

A rueful smile crossed his tanned features. His mischievous eyes were deep dark brown with rings of gold around the pupils.

"Too much fun," he said with a shrug.

"I see. Remind me never to have fun with you."

He laughed again, harder than before. This time, he turned and vomited out the contents of his stomach. Cyrene's stomach seized at the sound and smell, and she nearly wretched herself.

"Sorry," he moaned. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

"I have to return to my quarters."

"Wait, you never said what happened to you."

"Too much fun," she said bitterly.

She pivoted on her heel to walk away from him.

"You're Cyrene, right?"

She stopped in her tracks. "Yeah, I am." She was surprised he knew who she was.

He stood and leaned against a wooden beam that had been driven into the ground. "I'm Ahlvie. Ahlvie Gunn, at your service."

"Ah, the drunk," she murmured, remembering how he had gotten thrown out of her Presenting ball.

By the Creator, was that only yesterday?

"If the shoe fits."

She nodded at him and staggered forward to leave.