Queen Of The Great Underworld

40

“Who is she?”

“The Dawn Lady. She’s the Lady of Eternal Dawn.”

I met Gerel’s eyes, but couldn’t think of a way to talk about the new prisoner without the new prisoner overhearing. Not the quiet code. Last night, I’d asked Aaru if he would teach Gerel his secret language. He’d said no; she was too far to learn it without the other prisoners overhearing.

Instead, I moved to the front left of my cell and peered through the metal grille toward the Dawn Lady.

She stood at her door, too, with her head high and copper eyes trained on me. Her skin was flawless: smooth and dark and unmarked, save the tattoo on her left side, which curled from her hair down her temple and cheek and chin. The copper swirls disappeared beneath her clothes.

Envy burned through me. She looked perfect, even in prison, and though I hadn’t seen my own face in a month, I knew I was a mess. My skin felt dry in some places, oily in others. All I had to do was look at my hands—cracked knuckles, ragged fingernails, callused fingers—to know that I had changed. After nineteen days in the Pit, I was no longer the beauty my mother had loved to brag about.

So it was possible Chenda didn’t recognize me—not without the dresses and cosmetics. I couldn’t be sure, though. We didn’t have much history.

I’d first seen her four years ago. She’d been sixteen. I’d been thirteen. Some of the Twilight Senate had come to present the newly selected Lady of Eternal Dawn to the Luminary Council and other important figures on Anabel. She’d been making her way through all the islands’ capitals, and we were the first stop.

I’d been invited to stand with the Luminary Council, of course.

“If the Twilight Senate is going to show off their special teenage girl,” Ilydsey had joked, “of course the Luminary Council will, too. They have to be the best.”

Ilydsey had a higher opinion of me than was really warranted, but she was my best friend so I forgave her.

The presentation ceremony had been unbearably long. We’d spent three hours in the Theater of True Light; it was the only building in Crescent Prominence that could hold so many people. I’d had to stand beside the Luminary Council and various others they’d deemed worthy enough, while Ilydsey and her family (and most other people lucky enough to get an invitation) sat on the main floor and in balconies.

Chenda had been just as beautiful then as she stood at the center of the stage, brilliant noorestone light focused on her; she didn’t have the tattoos yet. There had been speeches, a short demonstration of shadow skill, and finally, generous gifts of jewelry and trinkets exchanged between both governments.

Elbena Krasteba, my minder from the Luminary Council, had chosen an elaborate hairpin for me to give to Chenda. It almost looked like the sun rising over the horizon. In turn, Chenda had given me a small copper dragon.

With the addition of a formal dinner, during which neither of us had time to speak with the other, that was the extent of our meeting.

And now, Chenda M’rizz, the Lady of Eternal Dawn, was here in the Pit.

Like me.

Curiosity burned, but I didn’t ask.

“Hello,” I said. “I’m Galadriel.” Like we didn’t know each other at all. Like I didn’t have a surname. Hopefully she would realize I was anonymous here, and play along.

Here we were: two girls with famous pasts, both of us wrongly imprisoned (I assumed). Neither of us were meant for this place. I wondered if she’d be offered a job, too, as an excuse to keep feeding her. I wondered if she was just as scared and confused as I had been, even if she was doing a better job hiding it. And I wondered if she felt this faint connection between us, formed four years ago when we hadn’t been given time to talk, and reignited now with both of us trapped in the most terrible part of the Fallen Isles.

I could warn her about Yarrow and the horrible methods the guards used to extract information. I could warn her about Sarannai, should she decide to take a cleaning job.

We could be best prison friends.

“Leave me alone.” She took a measured step backward and vanished from the doorway. “Don’t talk to me again.”

Oh, yes. Best prison friends for sure.

I MADE A few more attempts over the rest of the evening. Every time, Gerel gave me a look that said I was stupid for trying.

She was probably right.

“Maybe it was murder,” one man said. Kason. That was his name. Gerel had told me who was who the night before, but I’d had so many other things on my mind. “Maybe the Dawn Lady killed someone with her glorious light.”

Varissa snorted. “I heard it was her shadow. It withered away and they couldn’t keep her any longer.”

“And how,” Kumas asked, “would you hear that? You haven’t heard anything the rest of us haven’t.”

“Oh.” Varissa sighed loudly. “I thought that’s what my daughter said. But she’s still on Bopha, isn’t she?”

Kason groaned. “You’re not Bophan. You’re Anabeln. And furthermore, you don’t have a daughter. At least, you didn’t when you got here and introduced yourself to us seven times.”

“Oh.” Varissa began to sob. “I’m not Bophan?”

“No.”

“I wanted the Dawn Lady to bless my daughter.”

“You don’t—”

The conversation on that end of the cellblock grew jumbled and even more confused. Someone shouted about the Dawn Lady’s shadow again. Hurrok insisted that she’d eaten someone else’s shadow. And finally, Chenda stepped toward the door of her cell and cleared her throat.

Everyone stopped speaking.

Even when they couldn’t see her, they felt the power of her presence.

“Yes.” Chenda lifted her voice. “I am Chenda M’rizz, the Lady of Eternal Dawn. And now I am caught in the great maw of the Pit, like the rest of you.”

One of the other prisoners whimpered. Hurrok, perhaps.

“I was not imprisoned for murder or a withering shadow or eating anyone else’s shadow. I’ll tell you the truth of the matter, but only once. So pay attention.”

Even Gerel leaned toward Chenda’s cell to listen.

“The Twilight Senate discussed a problem, which I found important and dear to my heart. There are many who believe Hartans should be deported, and have begun protesting their continued presence by setting them ablaze.”