"No." It was time for plan B. My grandfather always told me to have a backup plan. I smiled. What a moment to remember something my grandfather taught me. "We're going to the dungeons."

Ruby and Callum didn't argue. I'd ordered them to go along with whatever I said.

"Go home," Callum told his sister. He waited until she went around the bend, then pointed at the opposite path. "This way."

I followed him with Ruby in the rear. We pa.s.sed the last door, then a stretch of tunnel with large exposed pipes. Water, air, and sewer pipes, Callum explained. The tunnel narrowed and fewer crystal lights dotted the walls. Either it was my imagination or the temperature dropped. I shivered and pulled my cloak tighter.

A weird echo came from behind us and my heart leaped. I turned to look, but there was no one there. My breathing quickened and my heart pounded as we continued along. I focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

The tunnel was endless and curving every which way. Shadows and distorted images appeared at the corners of my eyes, superimposed on the wall. The wall itself changed as though alive. At times it was smooth, at times rough or wet like a cave wall.

At some subconscious level, I knew that the images weren't real. Yet I started feeling queasy, my heart threatening to leap from my chest. I stopped and lowered my head, my entire body trembling as though I had run for miles.

Hands gripped my arms. "We should go back, Princess," Ruby begged.

"No, I'm fine. How far to go?" I asked, my breathing shallow.

"We've never been down here," Callum said. "I can carry you."

I laughed, and the sound echoed around us. I shivered again. "Thanks, Callum. I'm claustrophobic, not sick. I can make it."

I staggered forward, ignoring the concern pouring from them.

I developed tunnel vision, the peripheries blurry. The pressure inside my head increased. Every breath burned my lungs as though there wasn't enough oxygen, but I knew that wasn't true. Callum and Ruby weren't hyperventilating. This was in my head.

Breathe, little one, a man said in my head. Think of those you love and those who love you.

The voice was familiar, yet I couldn't place it or put a face to it. Still, I listened and I let my father's face fill my head. When his face ebbed, Bran's green eyes smiled down at me. The faces that came after his were ones I didn't recognize-an older woman with short hair, a blonde, a black guy wearing an ap.r.o.n, a black girl with curly black hair, a blond guy with a twinkle in his eyes.

Instead of calming down, the images had the opposite effect. They were confusing. Worse, the voice kept telling me things that didn't make sense, his voice fading and echoing.

Don't come... Go back...

My knees grew wobbly, the roar inside my head deafening. This wasn't just claustrophobia. I took deep breaths and focused on my father and Bran's face. The pressure in my head eased a little and my eyes started to clear. I turned the corner and saw the gate.

I wanted to teleport to it, but I couldn't summon the psi energy to do it. Whatever was messing with me was also s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g with my powers. We reached the gate, and I grabbed the metal bars of the gate for support and clung to it.

"Are you okay, Princess?" someone asked. Ruby or Callum. I must have rea.s.sured them, because their fears eased.

The square area behind the gate was like a courtyard, except it was indoors. It had a high ceiling, benches, and a section with freestanding punching bags. This was probably the exercise yard for the prisoners. Crystals embedded on the floor shot beams to the ceiling, forming a light cage. As my breathing slowed down and my vision cleared, I could see four tunnels leading from the foyer.

"Princess," a voice rang out. The next second, a man in a black robe, stood on the other side of the gate, his hand pressed to his chest and head bowed. The gate slid open. "I was not informed you were coming."

A quick read and I got his name. "This is a surprise visit, Emory. I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not, Princess." He stepped back and waved his hand. The crystals dimmed and the beams turned off. "I'm here at your service."

Whatever was down here grew stronger, making my skin crawl. But now that I was no longer in the tunnels, the effect on me wasn't as strong. I took a deep breath and stepped into the room. I could see what looked like an office between the second and third hallway entrances.

"Would the princess like a tour?" Emory asked.

Yes, the princess would. I had to know if Bran was down here. "Thank you. That would be nice."

"These hallways lead to the cell blocks." He pointed at one to our right. Above the doorway was an A. "Block A is for thieves and petty criminals."

We followed him down the hallway, which was wide and well-lit, so I didn't feel as much like the walls were caving in on me. The prisoners were housed in twos in private cells, their beds and bedside desks visible through the gla.s.s walls.

They looked up, then either went back to their card games or stared pa.s.sively at us as we walked past. They weren't aggressive or scared. They also didn't bow or act like they knew who I was, which was nice for a change. The best part was that none of them was Bran.

"How long do you keep them here?" I asked.

"That depends on the severity of the crime, Princess. We keep first-time offenders for a few months to a year. Repeat offenders stay for twice as long. Habitual offenders are moved to Hallway C."

"Why are they all men?" I asked. "Women must be good citizens."

Emory chuckled. "Not really, Princess. The women are housed in Hallway B."

We looped into Hallway B, the women's block. There were more men than women. And like the men, they watched us without reacting. I didn't know whether it was normal for prisoners to be so docile.

"They're so well-behaved," I commented.

"That's because they don't want to end up in Block C," Emory said.

We were back in the common room or the yard. "Is that the worst place to be sent?"

"It depends on how you look at it." We followed him into the entrance to Block C. The hallway was wider. "This is where we keep criminally insane people."

My feet faltered. "I didn't know insanity was a problem among our people."

"They have unstable psi energy and either killed people or destroyed property using their powers." He glanced back and realized I had stopped walking. "Don't worry, Princess. Most of them are in comas."

Unlike the other cells, these had light cages. Their beds were narrower and each prisoner had his or her own cell. They looked so still and lifeless under the covers. Was I like that for six months?

"What are the lights for?" I asked.

"To stop them from teleporting out. These are not ordinary light crystals. They give off light that is harmful to us in any form, so we use them to create cages."

A memory flickered in my head, then disappeared. I didn't try to chase it. I was busy checking the faces of the prisoners for Bran. But it was obvious this wasn't the first time I'd seen a light cage used.

"How do you keep them in comas?"

"We drain their psi energy regularly. Their psi energy surges come and go, completely unpredictable. It doesn't matter whether they're asleep or awake. One blew up his cell with omni b.a.l.l.s while asleep and suffered severe burns. Another destroyed the crystals and escaped to the surface. Now we keep them in comas, and as soon as they stir, we drain their energy and they slip right back."

I was in coma for seven months. Did that mean someone had drained my energy, too? The Archangels, perhaps? According to Gavyn, they hadn't erased my memories. If I were to believe him, then they hadn't drained my energy, either. The thought that there was someone here on the island who had done that to me was scary.

"How long do they stay in a coma when drained?" I asked.

"About a month," the guard said.

I was out for nearly seven months, which meant I'd been drained often. By who, and why? Fear kindled somewhere deep inside me. Was it for my own protection? Would I have hurt people if they hadn't? I must have been drained monthly to be in a coma for so long. According to Lady Nemea, I was the most powerful person on the island. Even Lord Gavyn had said my energy was limitless. More energy probably meant a higher chance of instability. No wonder everyone had freaked out when my energy powers had appeared.

"Do you drain their energy?" I asked, starting to feel a little sick.

Emory chuckled. "No one comes near the prisoners but Sir Malax's team."

Could Sir Malax have drained me, too? Did Lady Nemea know? She'd watched over me and considered me her charge. Did Father know? He'd do anything for me.

"What do they do with the drained energy?" I asked.

The guard pointed down. "They store them below us in large crystals until the P1s need them."

Maybe the energy hum from the crystal was the relentless tug I kept feeling. It was beginning to give me a headache. We reached the end of the hallway and looped back. I forced myself to keep counting and fought the urge to teleport upstairs and demand answers. The problem was that I didn't want to know the answer. Who in their right mind wanted to hear they were a ticking time bomb?

But this explained everything-why people feared me. Why even my own sister resented my powers. She probably thought I belonged down here. The only ones who didn't seem to care about them were my father and Bran. Would Lottius and Katia, and their friends, start treating me differently if they knew? They were probably ignorant about them because their memories had been wiped clean by the Archangels. "I thought P1s are all-powerful," I said in a voice that shook slightly.

Emory shot Callum and Ruby a weird glance. He could probably tell I was close to losing it. Deep breaths... Exhale... Princesses don't lose it. They hide their true feelings.

"The P1s take care of the island, Princess," the prison guard said. "The Air Primes clean the air circulating through the city. The Earth Primes take care of all solid waste. The Water Primes purify the water. The Energy Primes supply us with all the light and heating crystals, and the Psi"-he pointed at Callum and Ruby-"are in charge of security around the island and maintaining the shield. A couple of times a month, they all need to replenish their energies."

Like rechargeable batteries. I pushed away the crazy thoughts threatening to drown me and focused on why I was in the dungeons.

"Have you had any new prisoners, Guard Emory?" I asked.

"Just the two traitors they sent down here a few weeks ago."

Thirty-six comatose inmates and none, thankfully, was Bran. Just before we left, Ruby gasped and I looked over my shoulder. She'd been so quiet I'd completely forgotten her presence.

"What is it?" I asked.

She pointed at the last cell. There were movements under the blanket. "One's waking up."

"That's Patient Thirty-Six. She's due for a power drain," Emory said as we exited the hallway. "I must contact Sir Malax at once."

Who will boot us out, I thought. There was only one wing left. "Can we finish the tour first?" And confirm that Bran isn't down here.

The guard frowned. "Sir Malax insists on knowing if one of the Specials wakes up."

I blinked as though I'd been sucker-punched. "Specials?"

He nodded. "All the inmates in Block C are Specials. The ones that came out wrong. I must inform Lord-"

"Of course you must." These people were definitely like me. Specials with unstable energy. The difference was that I had people who loved me and had drained my energy to make sure I didn't hurt anyone. "We'll leave and finish the tour later. I'll ask Sir Malax's permission next time before I visit."

The jailer shook his head. "You don't need permission to visit us down here, Princess. You can come anytime."

"Thank you, Guard Emory. Unfortunately, not everyone thinks so. Sorry we didn't get to see the last block. Maybe next time we'll start with it." I got inside his head and planted a thought. Let your princess see the last block. Please.

"If we are quick, maybe the princess can take a look," the guard said. "There aren't many prisoners, so it won't take long." He hurried down the last hallway and we followed.

"Who is kept in this wing?" I asked.

"Traitors," Emory said.

The cells had metal walls instead of gla.s.s, each with a small opening for feeding the inmate. Emory opened one, but the cell was dark and I couldn't see the prisoner. CCs mounted outside the doors showed images of the inmates every few seconds. I recognized the two I had fingered. I still hadn't figured a way to free them.

Emory stopped before we could reach the end of the hallway and I almost b.u.mped into him. "There are only five prisoners in this block, so the rest of the cells are empty." He glanced over his shoulder and frowned. "Prisoner Zero doesn't count. They keep him apart from the others."

Please, don't let it be Bran. "Is he new?"

"No. This one betrayed Lord Valafar a long time ago. May the Princ.i.p.alities punish him for eternity. He was his right-hand man," Emory said.

What kind of a person would betray my father? After everything he'd done, he should be loved by all, revered. I walked past the guard.

"Princess, where are you going?"

"I want to take a quick look at this prisoner." I stopped by the CC and studied the image of the traitor. A hollow feeling settled in my stomach. He was a large man with smooth brown skin, serious gray eyes, and a nicely trimmed beard. Diamond studs twinkled in his ears. When the image rotated and showed us his back, I realized the heavy trench coat he wore wasn't really a coat. They were wings. Like a bat's. I hadn't seen flyers around the island. I knew they were rare, which made my dreams about Bran and his ma.s.sive wings insane.

The more I stared at the prisoner's image, the more the weird feeling in my gut intensified. I knew him. Without thinking, I placed my hand on the door.

"What are you doing, Princess?" Emory asked.

"I want to see who dared to betray my father." I visualized gla.s.s and let the image fill my head.

"No one has seen his face in nine months, Princess. He is not washed or bathed."

I tuned out the jailer's words as the metal underneath my palm changed and became clear. The gla.s.s surface spread until I could see inside the cell. It was dark, the only lights coming from the cage of beams.

"He must be powerful for you to use a cage," I said, peering at the bed, but it was hard to see anything. The covers on the bed were crumpled up. If he was in there, he was rail-thin.

"He's a P2. Psi and Energy. Very powerful."

I kept peering at the bed. "I can't see him."

"You should leave now, Princess," the guard said.

I stepped away from the wall, but I continued to stare inside the cell as the metal slowly re-formed. Just before the last section of gla.s.s disappeared, something dark coalesced into a person. Two gray eyes in a sunken face stared at me.

Don't ever come back down here, little one, a voice said inside my head.

I gasped and stumbled backward, my heart pounding. It was the same voice that had told me how to control the panic attack in the tunnel, and it came from the prisoner.

"What is his name?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Dante, Princess," Emory said. "He is Dante, son of Gorgas."

Dante. His name was familiar. He knew me. Knew I was having a panic attack in that hallway and knew exactly how I could counteract it. He'd betrayed my father, yet he knew me. What was I to make of that?

We left before Emory contacted Sir Malax, but I planned on going back down there until I learned more about about Prisoner Zero.