Throne of Sin

Into the Aqueducts

Marten nodded quickly. "I can do that. Jace has been itching for an excuse to cause trouble anyway."

"Good. Tell him it's from Cipher, and that he'll understand why soon enough." Evander's smile was sharp. "And Marten? Not a word about her. Not yet."

"I won't say anything. I swear." Marten glanced at Catalina, something like awe in his expression. "It's an honor, Your Highness. Truly."

"The honor will be yours if this works," Catalina said. "Go. We don't have much time."

Marten disappeared up the stairs, his footsteps fading into the night above.

Catalina turned back to Evander. "What do we need?"

"Dark clothes. Weapons. And luck." He moved to one of the cabinets, began pulling out gear. "The aqueducts are tight in places, and the water level can be unpredictable. We'll be moving through darkness most of the way."

"I'm not afraid of the dark."

"I know." He handed her a set of black clothing—fitted tunic and trousers, soft boots designed for silence. "But the dark down there is different. It's absolute. And if we get turned around, if we miss a turn, we could end up trapped."

"Then we won't miss a turn." She took the clothes, met his eyes. "I trust you, Evander. You know these passages better than anyone. You'll get us there."

He nodded slowly. "Get changed. We leave in an hour."

* * *

The entrance to the aqueducts was in the basement of the cobbler's shop next door—another property Evander had quietly acquired over the years. He led her through the dusty workshop, past shelves of old leather and broken lasts, to a trapdoor hidden beneath a workbench.

The smell hit her first when he lifted the door—damp stone and old water, the mineral scent of underground places. A ladder descended into blackness.

"Stay close," Evander said, lighting a small hooded lantern. "And keep one hand on the wall. The footing can be treacherous."

He went down first, and Catalina followed, her heart pounding as the darkness swallowed them. The ladder was slick with moisture, the rungs cold beneath her hands. She counted twenty rungs before her feet touched stone.

The tunnel was narrow—barely wide enough for them to walk single file. Water trickled along a channel cut into the floor, and the walls were slick with algae. The lantern's light barely penetrated the darkness ahead, making it feel like they were descending into the earth's throat.

"This way." Evander's voice was quiet, almost reverent. This was his domain, she realized. The shadows and secret places where he'd lived for years, moving unseen through the empire's hidden veins.

They walked in silence, the only sounds their breathing and the whisper of water. The tunnel branched and turned, descended and rose, a maze that would have been impossible to navigate without Evander's knowledge. He moved with absolute confidence, never hesitating at intersections, his hand occasionally touching marks on the walls that only he could see.

Time became strange in the darkness. Catalina lost track of how long they'd been walking—twenty minutes? An hour? The tunnel seemed endless, a liminal space between the world above and whatever waited ahead.

"How did you map all this?" she asked quietly, her voice echoing strangely in the confined space.

"Carefully. Over years." He glanced back at her, his face half-shadowed by the lantern light. "The old records mentioned the aqueduct system, but most of the passages had been sealed or collapsed. I spent months exploring, marking routes, clearing blockages. It became... meditative, in a way. Down here, I could think. Plan. Remember why I was doing all of this."

"For me."

"For you. For the empire. For the future your father believed in." He paused at an intersection, checking the marks on the wall. "This way. We're getting close."

The tunnel began to slope upward, and the sound of water grew louder. They emerged into a larger chamber—the old cistern room Evander had mentioned. It was vast and echoing, with vaulted ceilings that disappeared into darkness above. Ancient stone columns rose from a pool of black water, and the air was thick with moisture.

"Dungeon level's directly above us," Evander whispered, extinguishing the lantern. "Fast, quiet, no killing unless we have no choice. If it goes wrong, we fight our way out and trust Marten's distraction."

They crossed the cistern room, their footsteps silent on the damp stone. On the far side, a narrow staircase spiraled upward into darkness. Evander led the way, moving like a ghost, and Catalina followed, her heart hammering against her ribs.

This was it. The point of no return. In minutes, they would either save the general or die trying.

She thought of the woman she'd promised to become and she climbed.

The staircase ended at a heavy wooden door. Evander pressed his ear against it, listening. Then he produced a set of lockpicks and went to work. The lock clicked open with barely a sound.

Beyond was a corridor—stone walls, torches burning in brackets, the smell of damp and unwashed bodies. The dungeons.

Two guards stood at the far end, talking in low voices. They hadn't noticed the door opening.

Evander gestured for Catalina to wait, then slipped into the corridor like a shadow. She watched him move—silent, precise, deadly. He was behind the first guard before the man even knew he was there. A quick strike to the back of the head, and the guard crumpled. The second guard turned, reaching for his sword, but Evander was faster. Another strike, and both men were unconscious on the floor.

He beckoned her forward.

They dragged the guards into an empty cell, bound and gagged them with strips torn from their own uniforms. Then Evander led her deeper into the dungeons, past rows of cells holding prisoners who watched them with hollow eyes.

"Here," Evander whispered, stopping at a cell near the end of the corridor.

Inside, a man sat chained to the wall.

He was massive—easily six and a half feet tall, with shoulders like a bull and arms corded with muscle. His face was scarred, a jagged line running from his left temple to his jaw, and his dark hair was shot through with silver. He wore the remnants of a military uniform, torn and bloodstained, and his wrists were raw where the manacles had bitten into his skin.

But his eyes—his eyes were sharp and alert, burning with a fury that hadn't been dimmed by chains or the prospect of death.

General Talon Ashgrave looked up as they approached, and his expression shifted from surprise to suspicion in an instant.

"Who the hell are you?" His voice was a low growl, rough as gravel.

Catalina stepped forward, into the torchlight, and let him see her face.

"I'm Catalina Takeshiro," she said quietly. "Daughter of Emperor Katsuo. And I'm here to save your life."

For a long moment, Talon just stared at her. Then he laughed—a harsh, bitter sound. "The princess is dead. Has been for fifteen years. So either you're a ghost, or you're a liar, or Aldrich has finally lost his mind and is sending assassins dressed as dead royalty."

"I'm none of those things." Catalina moved closer to the bars, let him see the ring on her finger—the twin-dragon seal catching the torchlight. "I'm the rightful heir to the throne. And you're going to help me take it back."

Talon's eyes fixed on the ring, and something flickered in his expression—recognition, maybe, or memory. "That's the emperor's seal."

"It was my father's. Now it's mine."

"Anyone could have stolen that ring."

"But they didn't. Evander saved it. Just like he saved me." She held his gaze, let him see the truth in her eyes. "I know you don't trust me. I know you have no reason to believe I'm who I say I am. But in a few hours, Aldrich is going to execute you in front of half the city. So you have a choice: die in chains as a traitor, or take a chance on the woman who's offering you a way out."

Talon was silent, his eyes moving between her and Evander. Calculating. Weighing.

"Why?" he asked finally. "Why risk your life to save mine?"

"Because I need you. Because the empire needs you. Because my father trusted you, and I'm betting he was right to do so." Catalina's voice was steady, certain. "And because if I'm going to reclaim my throne, I need to prove I'm worthy of it. Saving you is how I start."

Another long silence. Then Talon's mouth curved into something that might have been a smile. "You're either very brave or very stupid."

"I'm both. Now, are you coming with us, or do I have to find a plan b and leave you here to die?"

He laughed again, but this time there was something genuine in it. "Get these chains off me, and I'll follow you to hell if that's where you're going."

Evander was already working on the lock, his picks moving with practiced efficiency. The manacles fell away, and Talon stood, rolling his shoulders, his full height making the cell feel suddenly smaller.

"We need to move," Evander said. "The distraction won't last forever."

"What distraction?" Talon asked.

"You'll see." Catalina turned toward the corridor. "Are you okay to fight if needed?"