Diomedes was unsure how long they had been walking in the tunnel, but it was long enough that he’d grown tired of the monotonous scenery of stone walls—that and Armannii’s back. Sweat had formed on the surface of Diomedes’s neck, especially around his collar. The temperature around them had risen, and that combined with the unending warmth coming from the pen tucked inside his tunic made the heat nearly unbearable.
Diomedes couldn’t help but cringe at the thought of how disgusting he probably smelled, like some rancid mixture of body odor, dirt, and blood. He rarely went this long without washing up or shaving. But before he could open his mouth to complain about the scratchiness of his face or the smell seemingly glued to his clothing, he noticed a small light from somewhere down the tunnel.
Armannii paused before they got much farther, turning to face them. “As with every portal ever created, there’s a guardian on both sides. I’d be shocked if he didn’t know who you are, Didi, so we need to make sure we have a good reason for bringing you here.”
“The end of the war isn’t a good enough reason?” Diomedes asked, cracking a few of his fingers.
“I’m sure it’ll do for a start, but you have to understand that to them, you’re a huge threat. Like I said, if your father found out—”
“Death and destruction to all. I remember.” Diomedes patted Armannii’s shoulder as he pushed to the front. Armannii didn’t object as Diomedes took the lead.
With each step, Diomedes felt his heartbeat quicken. If there had been one less drop of determination in him, he would’ve turned back. Why risk being caught? Why put his life in danger? For the country, he reminded himself. For the people. To end the war. And somewhere in the back of his mind, to prove himself to his father and the council.
“Prince Diomedes Maudit of Phildeterre. How dare you step foot in my sanctuary?” The words boomed through the tunnel before Diomedes was even twenty feet away from the lit-up room. It was distinctly male and rough, like the person was well on in years.
Straightening his posture, Diomedes continued toward the room. Fear would not stop him, not when Raylee’s pen urged him to carry on.
The room the tunnel emptied into was at least three stories high and completely spherical except for the flat floor. A cluster of chairs made from the dark wood of the Black Forest trees sat in an arch to one side, and a few different tunnels led off in various directions around the room. Light shone down from runes covering the stones above, and Diomedes forced himself to look away, worried he might be so distracted by the magic around him that he would miss important details, like the old man standing across the room from him.
“You must leave. Now,” the old man said, raising a gnarled and aged hand to point at him.
“I-I . . .” Diomedes cleared his throat before he kept going. “I need to get to the Dark.” Diomedes’s throat felt dry, and the words he’d practiced in his head as he had approached the room evaporated like all of the moisture from his mouth. He licked his lips, hoping the words would flow easier. “It’s, um, it’s important.” It was almost as humiliating as being tongue-tied in front of his father’s council, and heat flooded through Diomedes’s face.
“Absolutely not. As the guardian of this portal, I would rather die than let a Maudit through,” the old man said, crossing his arms over his chest. He wore a dark orange robe tied around his wide waist with a leather belt. His head was nearly bald except for a long gray braid that came out looking more like a tail than hair. But it was his eyes that unsettled Diomedes the most. There were no pupils. No irises. Nothing but white.
“Come on, Hessland. You’d open the portal for an old friend, wouldn’t you?” Armannii asked, stepping up behind Diomedes. The elf rested his elbow on Diomedes’s shoulder, and Blanndynne stepped to the other side of Diomedes. “I can assure you he’s here for the good of those with magic.”
“No,” Hessland said, shaking his head. “No royal from the Maudit line has ever, nor will ever, do anything good for those with the gift of magic.”
“You’re wrong,” Diomedes argued, stepping forward and out of Armannii’s reach. His two companions stayed behind him. “I understand the beauty and need of magic in the world. I only wish I could’ve been given the gift you all have. Then maybe I could make my father see the truth. This war has gone on for too long. Too many lives have been lost to count. It needs to change, and that’s what we’re trying to do.”
Hessland continued to look skeptical, or as skeptical as he could with his white eyes. He grunted. “Go on.”
“I have an idea to end the war, but I need to get to the Dark to ensure the end of the Split. There’s something in there that we need to find.”
“What is it?”
Diomedes glanced at Armannii and Blanndynne, both of whom shrugged. “I believe the beginning of the war started under false pretenses, that King Kylian’s twisted bias against magic was poured into a poisonous war that was as corrupt as the man who started it. If I can prove that, then the royal council will have no choice but to put an end to the war.”
The old guardian made a noise that almost sounded like laughter, but he was still glaring at Diomedes. “Wishful thinking, boy. Even if you can prove what you say, those in charge of this country will never see reason. Many have gone before you to try to end the war peacefully, and they’ve all failed, losing their lives in the process.”
“So let me risk my life,” Diomedes said, taking another step forward. “I’m willing to die for this.”
“No.”
“What?”
“My job is to protect this portal. I will not let it be destroyed like your ancestors did to the rest of them. Leave.”
“Is your hatred of my family—of me—really stronger than your desire to see the war come to an end?” Diomedes said, resisting the urge to point out that he was clearly not there to destroy the portal. He stood straighter, grasping his uninjured arm behind his back as he did when he was standing in court. “Will you be able to bear the knowledge that you could’ve played a role in ending the people’s strife but chose not to because of your personal prejudice?”
Hessland’s face morphed into a mask of rage, twisting and wrinkling until it was a red mess. “You dare try to manipulate me? I’m doing what’s best for my people by not letting you through. I am a guardian. My job is to protect.”
“Protect from what? The person trying to end the war? The person trying to end a hundred years of conflict before it turns into two hundred or three hundred years? How is that logical?” Diomedes kept his voice level, but he could feel the anger bubbling up inside him. He let the room fall silent, choosing his next words carefully. “If you don’t let us through, then you’re just like my father. Your actions will continue this war, whether you want them to or not.” He spoke his final words softly. “This war will take more lives—kill more innocent people—and destroy the country. That, Hessland, is now on you.”
Before he lost his courage, Diomedes spun around and walked back down the tunnel. He didn’t wait to see how the guardian reacted, but he did see the astonished look on Blanndynne’s face and the shock on Armannii’s as he passed by them. Diomedes didn’t turn to see if they were following; he could hear their footsteps.
However, as soon as they were a decent way down the tunnel, all of the adrenaline seeped out of him, and he felt desperation settle in. He needed to find a way into the Dark. He had to find Raylee’s remains. Even as he walked away from the portal, his mind screamed at him to turn around and beg for passage through.
“That was—”
“Bold,” Armannii said, finishing Blanndynne’s sentence before she could get the chance.
“I was going to say foolish,” Blanndynne said, irritation lacing her voice. “You know as well as I do we needed to go through that man’s portal. And after all we’ve done to get this far . . .” She had summoned an orb of light again, and instead of taking out his stone, Diomedes counted on her light to walk. Since she was behind him, it made his shadow appear before him, large and menacing.
“He wasn’t going to let me through even if I fell to my knees and begged at his feet.”
“Which you’d never do,” Armannii added, and the smirk on his lips was nearly audible.
Diomedes nodded. “Right. So we just need to go to the other portal, besides the main one, that wasn’t actually destroyed. Where is it?”
Instead of answering him, Armannii’s shadow stopped walking. Diomedes turned to face him, watching the way the elf inclined his head to the side. He was listening.
“I don’t think we’ll be needing another way in,” Armannii said, his eyes glittering in the light.
A few moments of silence later, Diomedes understood what he meant. The sound of feet shuffling filled the tunnels, seeming louder than when the three of them walked.
“Hessland,” Armannii said, throwing his arms out in a welcoming gesture. “Long time no see.”
“Wait. Do not leave yet. If what you say is true, then the risk of not letting you through far outweighs the consequence of doing so. You may pass through my portal,” the old man said, stepping into the light. He ignored Armannii, his pearlescent eyes focused on Diomedes.
“Thank you.” Diomedes tipped his head in respect despite the desire to gloat at his victory.
“Yeah, thanks, Hess. We were also hoping to sleep in the extra quarters for a few hours before going through. Is that a possibility?”
Hessland switched his gaze between the three of them, lingering the longest on Diomedes. “Fine.”