Killian barely looks at me as we move through the underground passageway.

His posture is relaxed, unthreatened, but I know from the positioning of his body towards me that if I tried to strike him, he'd have me on the ground before I could raise an arm. Not that I have anything to strike him with, anyway.

A dark, dingy passageway looms ahead. If it weren't for the oil lantern Killian carries, we'd be in complete darkness, the musty smell lingering in the air the only reminder that we're not outside. I examine the dirt compacted walls, the rusted metal secured in the entrance ways we pass, and wrinkle my nose, trying to imagine where in Veymaw we could be located. Nobody has ever known where the deserters reside, but we hadn't walked for that long. Have they been beneath our feet all along? I shudder as a thought occurs. Casimir is a deserter. They've been in my house the whole time.

I stare at the back of Killian's head as we round the corner, thinking of the interaction in the main hall.

"Is that woman, Casimir's mother, the leader?"

He turns to glance at me, tilting his head forward. "Only of the deserters in this region."

"That means Casimir is..." He's more than just another deserter. He's the leader's son. I think of the way Killian seemed to mock him. "And where do you stand?"

"That's complicated. I'm not from this region."

"You're not?"

"Not everything I told you was a lie, Freya."

"How big of you," I snort.

"I was honest where I could be. And the number of hints I tried to drop that you just didn't pick up on was truly quite admirable."

My cheeks warm at the insult. He's right, though. I always knew there was something suspicious about Killian, but I was so preoccupied with keeping my own secret from him I never considered the fact that his was worse.

"If you knew I was searching for the deserters, why didn't you just tell me the truth?"

"If it were up to me, I would've, believe me." He comes to a stop as we reach an opening.

In hindsight, I'm not surprised by the revelation the Killian is a deserter, nor do I have any right to feel betrayed by his lies. He owed me nothing. Whatever honesty he offered me was completely voluntary. I try to remember that as he turns to look at me, those dark eyes sucking all the energy from the room.

"You can stay in here," he says, stepping to the side to let me past. I investigate the room. There's a small bed in the corner and a desk on the far wall. No windows, of course, the only light emanating from the oil lantern in Killian's hand.

"Sure looks like a prison," I say.

I step past him, our arms brushing. I've worked for so long to be here, and yet, I don't want to be trapped.

"What did Trina mean when she said I'd have to prove myself before leaving?" I ask.

"Don't worry about that."

"But what did she mean?"

"Being a deserter is no glamorous lifestyle. It's dangerous, for all parties involved. Some leaders take certain measure to ensure loyalty from their members. Something they can... use to persuade you if you ever get cold feet."

"Persuasion. You mean like blackmail?" He shrugs in response. "So she wants something to threaten me with?"

"She wants something to ensure you won't run your mouth," he corrects.

"I would never betray Casimir like that, no matter what lies he's told."

"I believe you."

"And you're not worried that I'd betray you?" I ask. "I don't owe you anything."

He takes several steps towards me, looming over me with those dark eyes. My breath hitches in my throat as he lowers his gaze. "I trust you as much as you trust me."

"I don't trust you at all."

"Exactly."

I shudder. "So why did you say you were okay with me leaving?"

"Because I'm not afraid of you." He takes another step closer. "You'd give your life to save your brother, you need the deserters. You won't betray me."

I stare at him, heart pounding. The way he looks at me, his words, it's as though he knows me so much more than he possibly could. We've only known each other a couple of weeks, and yet he sees me, he sees who I am, more than my own friends at school I've known nearly my whole life.

"But if you did," he leans closer, lips by my ear. "I can promise you wouldn't live to regret it."

It's a threat. And yet, when he pulls away torturously slow and meets my gaze, dimple denting his left cheek, my skin hums for a reason other than fear.

"Trina wants you."

It's Jax, leaning against the door frame as he stares at me suspiciously. Killian steps away, eyes still on me. "There's some clothing in the draws."

By the time I've turned back around, he's already gone.

#

I fall asleep. I don't mean to, but minutes after I sit on the lumpy bed, my eyes are falling shut. When I wake, the door creaks open and Casimir peeks his head in, holding a tray with a glass of water. He's changed from the black clothes into a white tunic and black breeches. He looks... normal.

"Can I come in?"

"Will you listen if I say no?"

He sighs, stepping in anyway and settling into the wooden chair at the end of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"How do you think?"

"I know you're upset."

"That would be an understatement."

"Tell me what you're thinking."

"I don't even know what to think."

He sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed and running a hand through his hair. "You weren't supposed to find out. Not like this."

I think of what Killian said, that if it weren't for him, Casimir would've kept lying. "Not like this or not at all?"

He averts his gaze to the ground, his silence a confirmation. It's what I suspected, but that doesn't ease the sting.

"So you're a deserter." I swallow. "That woman is supposedly your mother. A mother who I thought abandoned you and you never saw again. Do I even know you?"

He turns to face me, gaze intense. "You know me better than anyone."

"How can I believe that, Casimir? How could you keep this from me?"

"It's so much more complicated than you understand."

"Then explain it to me," I say. "That woman is your... she's your mother?"

He nods.

Casimir always told me the same story. He lived on the outskirts of Veymaw until he was 10, never coming into town. He never knew his father, and when his mother got ill, she took him to the orphanage. He never saw her again. I never thought to question it.

"How long have you known about her?"

"The story I told you isn't completely a lie. I did live in the outskirts of Veymaw, down here, with my mother."

"You grew up underground?"

He nods. "I trained, my whole childhood. When I was 10, my mother sent me to Veymaw. I had to be there from a young age to truly integrate into the village. To truly be an informant."

"An informant." I stare at him, repeating the word as if it will make it more real. "Like a spy for the deserters?"

"Don't look at me like that."

"And how am I looking at you?"

He clenches his teeth, jaw tensing. "Like you don't know who I am."

"I'm not so sure I do."

Hurt plays across his face and I'm once again confused as to how he managed to hide this secret from me. "Who I am, who you know me to be, it's real. You have to believe me."

"I don't know how I can after all these lies."

"Telling you would only put you in danger," he says. "With the council, the shifters. I couldn't risk that."

"You must've known I've been searching for the deserters. For months now."

"I did," he confirms.

"And you didn't think to tell me 'Hey, Freya, I'm what you're looking for'?"

"I didn't want them to know about you."

"Why not?"

"Because I lied to them, Freya. I'm the Veymaw informant. And when the shifters came and took Samu and killed your father, I told them Samu was an only child. I told them there were no survivors. I didn't tell them about you."

"Why?"

"Because if they knew about you, they'd have questions. They'd want to meet you. They might want to kill you." He takes my hand, squeezing it. "You're my family, Frey. Not that woman who calls me her son, you. I didn't want you involved in any of this. It's too dangerous."

I soften, squeezing his hand back. "I want to be involved. I don't care how dangerous it is. I have to know what happened to Samu."

"I know." He closes his eyes for the briefest moment. "That's why I couldn't let you find out."

"So what? You've been sneaking off all this time."

"No. Informants only have monthly check-ins but recently there's been... it's just been more regular."

"Why?"

He hesitates. "I don't want to lie to you, Frey."

"Then don't."

He stands up, running a hand through his golden hair and shaking his head. "If my mother found out I told you—"

"You told her you trusted me."

"I do."

"Then prove it. Your mother never has to know."

Finally, he looks at me. "We've been planning something, for a very long time now."

"What?"

"We're going to break into the Palace."

"In the mountains?" I ask. He nods. "That's impossible. You'll never find a way in. Everyone knows the path is cursed. No human has made that journey and lived to tell the tale."

"That's why it's taken so long, we didn't have a way in. But now..." he looks at me. "Now we do."

"How?"

"It's the reason I didn't want them to find out about you." He grabs my hand. "You're the way in."

~

I'm curious to see if your answers have changed since I last asked--who is your favourite character now?

How do you think Freya is the way into the Palace?

What do you think might happen next?