Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
T heir footsteps thundered against the stone as they raced down the spiraling ramp, the sound echoing off the walls and mingling with the shouts of their pursuers above and the dull roar of the crowd below. Linnea's robes tangled around her ankles with each step, threatening to send her tumbling down the steep incline.
Zexx kept pace beside her, his movements fluid and silent despite their speed, while K’Nar led the way, surprisingly swift for someone she'd always viewed as merely a diligent bureaucrat. How little she had known about those closest to her, how blind she had been to the currents flowing beneath the surface of her government.
They reached the hidden entrance to the tunnels, a section of wall that looked identical to every other stone surface in the tower until K’Nar pressed his palm against a specific block. The wall slid open with a grating sound that seemed deafening, even over their panting.
Instead of immediately entering, K’Nar hesitated, turning back to them with an expression she'd never seen on his typically composed face—a mixture of resolve and fear that made her heart stutter.
"I should separate from you here," he said, his voice low and urgent. "Create a distraction. Send the guards away from you.”
"What? No," Linnea protested, though she kept her voice hushed. "We stay together."
K’Nar shook his head. "I can send any pursuers in the opposite direction while you escape. Two fugitives are easier to hide than three, especially when one is..." he glanced at Zexx's unmistakable form, "...so distinctive."
She hesitated, torn between the tactical sense of his plan and her concern for his safety. K’Nar had been her adjunct for as long as she’d been in power, a steady, reliable presence through the most tumultuous periods of her leadership. He’d been seen with them, which meant he might be treated as a traitor. The thought of leaving him to face their pursuers alone made her stomach twist with anxiety.
"They'll suspect you helped us," she said.
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Let them suspect. I've been playing this game longer than you've been chancellor, my lady. I know how to appear loyal while serving other masters."
The sound of footsteps and voices grew louder above them. They had moments, no longer, to decide.
"Take this," K’Nar said, unfastening his cloak and handing it to Zexx. "It won't disguise you completely, but it might help in the shadows."
Zexx accepted the garment with a solemn nod, a wordless exchange of respect passing between the two.
"Go," K’Nar urged, already turning toward the ramp. "I'll find you when it's safe."
Linnea's throat tightened as she watched him straighten his clothing, smooth his expression into its usual bland efficiency, and stride purposefully back toward the main corridor. She hoped with every fiber of her being that it wouldn't be the last time she saw the trusted adjunct who’d become her friend.
"Come on,” she whispered to Zexx, pulling him into the tunnel as the wall slid shut behind them.
The passage was dark and damp, the air stale with the musty scent of age and disuse. She led the way, grateful that her earlier journey through these tunnels with K’Nar had given her at least a basic familiarity with their layout. He’d insisted they move through the secret passages to stay hidden as long as possible, and now she was grateful. Her heart pounded so loudly she feared it might echo off the stone walls as they navigated the labyrinthine corridors, turning left, then right, then left again.
"Where are we going?" Zexx asked, his voice a low rumble behind her.
"Somewhere they won't think to look for us," she replied, feeling her way along the wall as the passage grew darker. "Somewhere beneath their notice."
They continued in silence, the only sounds their breathing and the occasional distant drip of water. The chill of the underground seeped through her robes, raising bumps on her skin despite the heat of exertion.
After what felt like ages, a new scent began to permeate the stale air—the warm, yeasty aroma of freshly baked bread mingling with the savory smell of grilled meat and spices. The kitchens. They were approaching the vast underground complex where meals for the entire governmental tower were prepared, where dozens of staff worked from before dawn until late into the night.
The passage widened, branching off in several directions. Linnea paused, orienting herself by the increasing strength of the kitchen smells, then chose the rightmost tunnel. Light began to filter in from somewhere ahead, and the sounds of activity grew more distinct—metal clanging against metal, voices calling orders, the hiss of steam.
They emerged behind a stairwell and stepped into a dimly lit corridor lined with storage rooms, just beyond the bustling kitchens. She pulled Zexx into the shadow of a large storage rack as a group of workers passed, carrying trays laden with food destined for the upper levels.
As the corridor emptied again, she spotted a familiar figure—Zelia, the young attendant who had warned her about the protest that morning, the one who’d first given her idea to bring Zexx to the city, emerging from the kitchen with a tray.
“Zelia," she called softly, stepping just far enough into the light for the young woman to see her.
She startled, nearly dropping the tray before recognition dawned in her eyes. Then fear replaced surprise as she glanced nervously between Linnea and Zexx, who remained partially concealed in the shadows.
"Chancellor," she whispered, quickly setting down the tray and hurrying over. "They're looking for you everywhere. The guards, they're saying—" She broke off, clearly afraid to repeat whatever rumors were circulating.
"You were right about the dangers," Linnea said, keeping her voice low. "About whom I could trust. Now I need your help again. We need a place to hide, just until nightfall."
Zelia bit her lower lip, glancing over her shoulder toward the busy kitchen. For a moment, Linnea feared she would refuse, that perhaps her trust was misplaced once again. Then the young woman gave a short, decisive nod.
"Follow me," she said. "Quickly, before someone comes."
She led them down a different corridor, this one narrower and more poorly lit than the first. The stone walls here were rougher, the floor uneven beneath their feet. They ascended a short flight of stairs, the air growing warmer and stuffier when Zelia opened a door and led them through it.
"The staff quarters," Zelia explained in a hushed voice. "No one important ever comes down here."
The corridor opened into a warren of small rooms, most with doors closed. From behind some came the sounds of snoring—no doubt night-shift workers sleeping through the day. Zelia stopped before a door near the end of the hall, glancing around once more before pushing it open.
"My room," she said, ushering them inside. "It's not much, but no one will look for you here."
The space was tiny, barely large enough for the narrow bed, small table, and chest of personal belongings it contained. A single window high on the wall provided the only natural light, filtered through a grate that suggested it opened at ground level somewhere in the city.
"I'm sorry it's so small and shabby.” Zelia wrung her hands as she watched them take in the sparse accommodations.
"It's perfect," Linnea assured her, meaning it despite the tight quarters. "Thank you, Zelia."
As the young woman nodded and turned to leave, a wave of guilt washed over Linnea. She had lived her entire life as a highborn, served on the council and then as chancellor, and yet she had never known—never bothered to learn—that the people who served the government lived like this, in cramped cells beneath the very floors she walked each day. How much else about her city had she been blind to? How many other realities had she failed to see because they didn't directly impact her comfortable existence?
"You'll be safe here," Zelia said, her hand on the door. "No one would ever think to look for the chancellor in the servants' quarters. And none of the day shift will be near the rooms until late tonight when the day's work is done."
"We'll leave as soon as it's dark and we can move around unnoticed," Linnea promised. “Zelia, I can't thank you enough for risking yourself this way."
She offered a small smile. "You've always been kind to me, Chancellor. That matters more than you might think." With that, she slipped out, closing the door softly behind her.
Left alone with Zexx, Linnea stood motionless in the center of the tiny room, suddenly overwhelmed by the reality of their situation. In the space of a single day, she had gone from chancellor to fugitive, from leader to outlaw. Her own advisors had betrayed her, turned her people against her, and were now hunting her through the very tower she had once ruled.
"Linnea," Zexx said softly, his voice pulling her from the edge of panic.
She turned to him, opening her mouth to say something—anything—to maintain the illusion of control she'd been clinging to. But no words came. Instead, the facade crumbled, her shoulders sagging as the weight of everything crashed down upon her.
He pulled her into his arms with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with his stormy expression. She pressed her face against his chest, breathing in his scent as the tears she'd been holding back finally spilled over.
They weren't soft, dignified tears befitting a chancellor, but hot, angry sobs that shook her entire body. She cried for the betrayal of those she had trusted, for the peril facing K’Nar, for her own blindness that had allowed this conspiracy to fester. But most of all, she cried for her people, who deserved better than leaders who would sacrifice peace for power.
Zexx held her through it all, one hand stroking her hair while the other remained firm around her waist, anchoring her when everything else had been torn away. He didn't offer empty reassurances or platitudes—just his steady presence, his silent strength.
"I should have believed you from the start," she said when she could finally speak again, her voice rough from crying. "You tried to warn me, and I accused you of—"
"Shh," he murmured, pressing his lips to the top of her head. "You believe me now. That's what matters."
She pulled back just enough to look up at him, this warrior from the sands who had somehow become her strongest ally, her deepest connection. "What do we do now?" she asked, the question encompassing far more than just their immediate situation.
His dark eyes held hers, unwavering in their certainty. "We survive," he said simply. "And then we fight."
In the dim light of a servant's room, Linnea found herself believing him. Believing in him. And crucially, believing in them.