Princess of Death

Chapter Two

A full day had passed, and Cali could never unsee the despair. The haggard expressions, the sorrow and outright disgust she experienced, the infestation of spots and blackened, withered limbs. So many were sick in every one of Zara's sectors. There was hardly anyone to care for the sick and the dying. The sight haunted the underside of Cali's eyelids every time she blinked.

How could her parents have let the necrosis get this bad?

Each time she came across another suffering village, all-encompassing regret and compassion urged her to remain with her people, to help if she could. But her best chance of helping anyone would be to keep going. At least one good thing had come from seeing so much devastation: Cali had managed to stumble across the witch-woman's whereabouts.

Cali bent low, letting her horse race to the outskirts of the Wheaton sector. Exhaustion overtook her, though she suspected traveling so hard in such a short amount of time would do that to a person. She scratched the horse's mane and urged the mare on.

As she passed through the sector, Cali observed more poverty than she'd ever seen firsthand. Homes were starved of everything but the barest frames, topped with thin slabs. Debris, discarded garbage, and the smell of decline and despair filled the air. Her hope deflated.

Was the sector always this way or was it only this destitute because of the plague? Why had she ever thought she was ready to be crowned princess? The age of eighteen was no qualifier. She wasn't fit to help her kingdom, not when she had no real idea how bad conditions were for the poor. If those in the palace stood no chance for recovery, how much worse were the odds for people who were already suffering for want of food and suitable clothing?

Cali followed the directions she'd been given from a townsperson—directions she'd paid handsomely for. Soon enough, her horse slowed near a string of shells marking the shambled edge of a crumbling wooden fence. The air itself was soiled, a hazy, downhearted shade of muted gold. Foreboding filled Cali, but she was so warm with worry, warm with thoughts of Darren and the others in the infirmary, she persisted.

The horse's hooves slowed, crunching against the ground. At the sound, a girl appeared in the doorway of a tumbledown hut, which appeared to be nothing more than sticks and mortar. The girl was probably around Cali's own eighteen years. She had bronze skin and hair as black as coal, pulled tight beneath a dirt-worn kerchief. Her face could only be called interesting. She wasn't beautiful, but she wasn't ugly, either. And she analyzed Cali with the disgruntled humor of someone who'd just found a raccoon in their food pantry.

"What do you want?" the girl asked.

"Please—" Cali held out a hand, but then regretted it instantly. The pain of such a sudden movement was as sharp as a knife blade, and she jerked her arm to her chest. Where had that come from? "I'm looking for Lyric Reeves." Desperation and the tired, juddering ache in her bones drove her to blatant honesty.

The girl tapered her eyes. "Dangerous thing to admit in this kingdom. Especially from the likes of you. If I'm not mistaken, that's the Brahmvir seal on your ring."

Cali dismounted and clenched her fist around the insignia.

"What makes you think Lyric has any interest in a princess who only weeks ago wanted her dead?"

"King Marek is the one with a grudge against magic, not me. I believe Lyric can help me find a cure, a cure my people desperately need. Please, I was told she lived here. Do you know where she is?"

The girl said nothing. Cali went on. "My father asked me not to come—he doesn't know I'm here. I assure you, I mean Lyric no harm. But my people need help, and I don't know who else to turn to." Cali breathed hard, praying the words were enough. Would this girl help her?