Was that my destiny? Had I already started down this dark path? In some ways it felt that way.

“One more thing, Thalia,” Gideon suddenly spoke up. “You may have loyalties to the Denai now, but you are first and foremost a Siren. You belong here. With us.”

I grimaced in pain when I pulled the door handle open, and I heard Portia’s intake of breath as she waited to see if I would leave. I didn’t turn around, for fear of changing my mind. Instead, I walked out.

Immediately, I heard soft sobbing sounds behind me, as the stoic Portia broke down in tears. Gideon’s comforting voice followed me down as I made my escape from the tower.

Surprisingly, the Elite outside the room didn’t try to stop me. Nor the ones at the bottom of the tower. I did make a few wrong turns before I made it to the main hall and looked around me in wonder. If my mother had lived, I might have roamed these halls and played with my cousins.

Or I might have never stepped foot in the palace. There were too many what-ifs. I could be lost in my own thoughts forever.

One side of the double doors opened as a page walked in and turned down a hallway. Sunlight streamed into the entryway, creating a path of light that beckoned me to freedom. The view to the courtyard called to me, mere feet away. Seconds more and I’d be out the door.

I could feel my feet slowing in hesitation. I tried to remind myself that this was a prison and right now the door was open. I could walk out the double doors and never look back. I could go home, see if my father was okay, find Faraway…and then do what? Wait impatiently for Kael to return? Wait and see if he had found Joss and the others yet? Wait for the Raven to eventually find me? The thought of waiting for the unknown terrified me as much as being in a castle surrounded by insane relatives.

Or, I told myself, I could stay, try to find out what really was going on, find out why Xiven was here, and maybe find the Raven first. I crossed the threshold and stood on the large stone steps outside.

People were working—servants were busy carrying wood inside, and a man was leading a very magnificent horse through his paces. I watched as two of the Elite elbowed each other in excitement. I heard girls laughing as they carried a large bucket of water to some workers repairing the outer wall. A dog chased a cat under the horse’s feet, and the horse reared, making the Elite jump into action. Two of them calmed the horse and moved it away. A third man caught the dog and held it back from the scared cat who scurried up a tree. I expected the Elite to whip the dog or get angry. Instead they laughed and trying to coax the cat out of the tree.

Why did the people of Sinnendor have to remind me so much of my own clan and family? Why couldn’t I view them as the enemy?

A shadow flitted across the courtyard. A very large black bird flew across and perched on the outer wall—a raven. Something about it chilled me to the bone. A bad feeling overtook me, and I stepped backward into the main hall and shut the door. At the sound of the latch, I realized I’d just chosen prison over freedom.

“So you’ve decided to enjoy our hospitality a little longer. I commend you. Although remember that while the food here is very fine, the company has much to be desired,” a male voice spoke from behind me.

I whirled around and saw the tall form of Prince Sevril leaning against a column. His clothes looked tidier than yesterday. He still had the dark circles under his eyes, but today at least he tried to be friendly toward me.

I licked my lips and tried to act pleasant. “I might be able to stomach a few more days as long as dinner doesn’t always end up in my lap. I generally like to eat my food, not wear it.”

Sevril’s laugh started deep in his throat and then it got louder. He held onto the column and wheezed, having to cover his mouth. When he was able to breathe again he smiled widely. “You, Thalia, are a breath of fresh air. So how do you like your family so far?” He moved away from the pillar and clasped his hands behind his back as he circled, studying me. “Are we as crazy as you expected?”

“I think you’ve all been given a raw deal,” I answered truthfully. “If what Gideon says is correct, and our family will eventually go insane then I feel pity toward you and your actions, since they can’t always be helped. But I notice you use it to your advantage, as well. To get away with foolish behavior, just because everyone expects you to.”

Sevril stopped his pacing and turned his dark brown eyes on me. I didn’t feel afraid, but I didn’t feel entirely safe either. “Every single day, I fight the feelings, the shadows, the dark thoughts, the anger. And every day I find another reason to prove my sanity. That is what I find my solace in, my striving to be human.”

I started to laugh. It wasn’t meant to be mean or condescending, but I felt hopelessness bubble up out of me and I couldn’t help but wonder where it came from. “But we’ve never been human. We truly are just freaks who would be better locked up.” The laughter turned into a pitiful sob, and I could feel the sting of disappointed tears in my eyes.

His eyes turned dark with anger.“Careful, Thalia. Not all of us have such control of our other inner demons.” He whirled around and left the room, leaving me in solitude.

His footsteps echoed outside the chamber and I was left with one thought. Now what?

Chapter 25

Portia and Gideon were right about King Tieren. He seemed more himself in the earlier hours of the day and more lost toward evening. Part of me thought it had to do with all of the drinking he was doing, but then I began to believe it had as much to do with the darkness that came with the night. Sometimes I found him avoiding darkened hallways and stepping around shadows that were cast on the floor.

Tomac on the other hand, I didn’t believe was ever sane. I had stumbled across him in a side parlor practicing sword fighting with a dummy. He was swift, agile, and explosive—expending all of his energy across the room. He would run and jump up on a stool, knocking it over, use his sword to slice through the roses, cut up the long curtains, and flip over a chaise, all before he even attacked the dummy.

I could actually picture him as a true Siren, his red hair blowing in the wind, eyes glowing with power. In that mental image, he wielded a flaming sword as he threw himself into battle. At one point as I watched, he leapt from the top of a table and I could imagine him with wings flying. His energy was so intense I could feel it almost bubble over him in waves. But here, where there wasn’t any magic, what I felt from him was enough to roll my stomach. It was hatred, despair, and self-loathing, and I had to ask myself whose feelings I was truly experiencing.

His or mine?

Tomac’s sword arced and he turned his body into the movement, decapitating the mannequin in one fluid movement. The straw-filled head flew across the room to come and rest by my foot, face down. Tomac turned and apparently noticed my intrusion for the first time. His head cocked to the left, the movement very much like a bird of prey as he studied me with interest.

“Tha-l-i-a,” he dragged out my name in a trill of notes that made my skin crawl. “I broke it.” He gestured to the stuffed head that had rolled to my feet. “Could you fix it, please?”

I looked down at the faceless structure and picked it up. Part of me wanted to run from him, but another wanted to prove to myself that I wasn’t afraid of Tomac. That even without my powers he couldn’t scare me. Somehow, knowing that we were both the same, both susceptible to the same anger and fury, made me want to pity him. Help him—because in some way, I would be helping myself.