She stared at Ahren as if unable to look away, lost in the images of her vision. “This is what I saw. All of it. Everything.”
“You saw Kael Elessedil,” he said quietly.
She took a deep breath. “Kael Elessedil,” she repeated. She shuddered. “For thirty years, Ahren, that was his life!”
He tried to picture that and failed. How could anyone be used in that way? What sort of creature could commit such a travesty? A deep cold settled into the pit of his stomach as he realized that whatever it was, it wasn’t human. Antrax was something else altogether.
He rose to go to her, to help her to her feet, but she made a quick warding gesture. “Don’t touch me, Ahren. There’s something more-something darker still. I couldn’t bear to look on it all at once, but now I must. I have to. I have opened myself to visions triggered by the sweeper’s memories. If you put your hands on me, it will disrupt everything. Stay clear.”
Without waiting for his response, she leaned forward again and placed her hands on the sweeper once more. Her face went rigid instantly, and a gasp escaped her lips. Her head drooped, and she was clinging to the sweeper as if she might otherwise fall. “Oh! Oh!” she cried softly, almost desperately.
Her hands dropped away and she sagged back on her heels once more. She remained like that for a long time, her breathing ragged and shallow, her face bloodless, her body limp. Ahren, though wanting to go to her, stayed where he was, obeying her instructions. The tunnel was still as a tomb, its silence a voiceless echo racing up and down the corridors through the dim pools of yellow light. Filled with dread, the Elven Prince waited. He felt young and stupid and vulnerable all over again, as if exposed by the seer’s visions, as if laid open without ever having been touched.
Then, crablike, Ryer Ord Star backed slowly away from the sweeper, her head bent and her body slumped. “Ahren?” she whispered brokenly.
He reached for her, taking her in his arms. She melted against him, and he held her close and gave her what strength he had to lend. Within her robes, she was shaking and cold. He touched her face, and he could feel the dampness leaking from her eyes. “It’s all right,” he reassured her, not knowing what else to say.
She shook her head instantly in denial. “Ahren,” she said so quietly that he could barely hear her words. Her face lifted so that her lips were pressed against his ear. “You were right,” she whispered. “We’ve been tricked. It’s a trap.”
He went still, terror-stricken. He started to say something in response, but kept himself in check. He had enough presence of mind to remember that the sweeper could hear and translate what they said.
“Antrax plans for you to replace your uncle,” she murmured, her hands clutching him. “You’ve been kept alive and brought here to serve as he did.” Her words were tiny bits of glass, cutting at his heart. “The sweeper is a tool. It was sent to lure you to the same room in which Kael Elessedil was imprisoned for all those years. It used me to persuade you. And I …”
She couldn’t finish, and he pressed her closer still, hanging on to her as much as giving her something to cling to in turn. Are you sure? he wanted to ask. But that was a foolish question. Her power at reading the fates was already proved several times over, and there was no reason to doubt her here. Especially since he had been uneasy about what they were doing from the start. His eyes shifted up and down the corridor. Still empty, still deserted. Whatever fate awaited them, they hadn’t crossed its path yet, although they were clearly on their way to doing so if they didn’t act quickly.
But what were they to do? They were deep underground, hopelessly lost, their companion and would-be guide a creature in the enemy’s service. Antrax would have tracked them the whole way, watching their progress, orchestrating their passage. It would be watching them now. Whatever they did, wherever they went, it would see. Antrax would not let them walk away from what it intended for them. It would not allow its plan to replace Kael Elessedil to be thwarted. Ahren’s heart was pounding.