Chapter 37
Chapter Thirty-Seven
T he stone floor was cool against Linnea's bare feet as they slipped from Zelia's room, the door closing behind them with barely a whisper of sound. The suns had dipped low since they'd sought refuge in the tiny quarters beneath the tower, sending shadows stretching from the narrow window and across the floor. Now the corridors lay silent and dimly lit, most of the staff either asleep or still working in the kitchens below.
Zexx moved ahead of her, his steps soundless despite his larger frame, every movement fluid and controlled. They both wore cloaks with the hoods pulled low over their faces, keeping their heads down as they walked.
Linnea’s heart fluttered in her chest like a trapped bird as they crept along the corridor, past doors behind which service staff slept. They approached the entrance to the kitchens, intending to pass by quickly, when a figure darted out from the doorway. Linnea froze, ready to bolt, but then recognized Zelia's slight form. Her eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed as if she'd been running.
"Chancellor," she whispered, glancing nervously over her shoulder before continuing. "I've been watching for you. You need to know—the protest, it flopped."
Linnea blinked, not quite processing her words. "What do you mean?"
"Counter-protesters came," she explained in a rushed whisper. "Hundreds of them, supporting you and the peace accord. They overwhelmed the others, the ones who were planted. It became clear very quickly that most of the city stands with you."
Hope bloomed in Linnea's chest, warm and unexpected. "The people support me?"
Zelia nodded emphatically. "More than the council realized, it seems. The search party gave up long ago." Her expression darkened. "But the council released a statement. They're saying you were kidnapped by the Dothvek ambassador. They’re saying this is a violation of the peace."
Zexx stiffened beside her, his hand instinctively moving to where his weapon would normally be. "They've made me the villain in their tale.”
"They’ve ridden the tide of support for you to their advantage, now claiming that you must be saved from the treacherous Dothvek.” Zelia’s gaze darted to Zexx. “They're calling for your capture. Dead or alive."
The momentary hope Linnea had felt morphed into renewed determination. Her people might support her, but the council had seized control of the narrative. Without muscle behind her to physically stand up to their lies, words of support would mean nothing. For that kind of strength, she needed to get out of the city—to the bounty hunters who were on their way, to the Dothveks who might rally to Zexx's side.
"Thank you for telling us," Linnea said, reaching out to squeeze Zelia's hand gratefully. "And for hiding us. You've taken an enormous risk."
Zelia straightened her shoulders, a fierce pride replacing her fear. "My grandmother was part of the resistance during the worst of the conflicts. She always said that sometimes loyalty to justice matters more than loyalty to authority." A faint smile touched her lips. "I won't tell anyone I saw you."
As they hurried away, Linnea heard Zelia's voice behind them, explaining loudly to someone in the kitchen that she had been talking to one of the guards from the tower, asking about the excitement earlier. A clever girl, providing herself with an alibi. Linnea hoped her deception would protect her from suspicion.
They moved swiftly through the underground corridors, the dim lighting from wall sconces casting slender shadows across the rough stone walls. She scoured her memory for what her brother had told her about the resistance passageways, wishing she'd paid more attention to his enthusiastic explanations. He had been fascinated by the network of tunnels beneath the city, had spent hours exploring them with his resistance friends. At the time, she'd dismissed his interest as youthful rebellion. Now, their lives depended on those same passages.
"It should be somewhere near the eastern storage chambers," she murmured, more to herself than to Zexx. "There was a symbol carved into the wall—three vertical lines crossed by one horizontal."
They made several wrong turns, each dead end increasing the anxiety knotting her stomach. What if she remembered incorrectly? What if the passage had been sealed? What if they were trapped down here, wandering until someone eventually spotted them?
"There," Zexx said suddenly, his keen eyes spotting what she had missed—a faint carving in the stone, almost worn away by time but still visible if you knew to look for it.
Linnea ran her fingers over the symbol, feeling the shallow grooves beneath her skin. "This is it."
Pressing against the wall as her brother had once described, she felt the stone give way slightly, then slide to the side with a grating sound that seemed impossibly loud in the quiet corridor. Beyond lay a tunnel narrower and lower than the passages they'd been traversing, clearly meant for quick escape rather than regular use.
She hesitated at the entrance, a wave of apprehension washing over her. The passage was dark, cramped, the ceiling so low that Zexx would need to stoop to avoid hitting his head. The thought of crawling through that confined space, with tons of stone and earth pressing down above them, made her breath catch in her throat.
"I'm right by your side," Zexx said, seeming to sense her fear. He took her hand, his warm fingers entwining with hers. "We do this together."
Drawing strength from his touch, she nodded and stepped into the tunnel. The entrance slid closed behind them, plunging them into near-total darkness with only the faintest glow from phosphorescent fungus growing along the walls to guide their way.
The air was thick with the smell of loamy soil and damp stone, the earthy scent filling her lungs with each shallow breath. The walls pressed in on either side, forcing them to move single file, her shoulders occasionally brushing against the rough surface. Cold droplets of water fell from the ceiling, landing on her face and neck in an irregular pattern that made her flinch each time.
She focused on putting one foot in front of the other, on the steady rhythm of Zexx's breathing behind her, on anything but the weight of the city above their heads and the suffocating closeness of the tunnel walls.
"Did I ever tell you about the time my friend and I tracked a sand snake?" Zexx's voice came from behind her, startlingly loud in the confined space.
"What?" she asked, momentarily confused by the non sequitur.
"We were young warriors, eager to prove ourselves," he continued, as if they were sitting comfortably around a fire rather than inching through a claustrophobic escape tunnel. "We followed its trail for half a day across the dunes, thinking ourselves so clever, so skilled."
Despite her fear, she found herself drawn into his story. "What happened?"
"When we finally spotted it and struck, the creature wasn't as injured as we thought. It pulled me under the sand, dragging me down where the grains would fill my lungs." She could hear the smile in his voice as he added, "This is definitely better than being dragged beneath the sand."
She waited for more, then asked. “Then what happened? I know you survived because you’re here, but how?”
“My friend dove in after me with both blades extended in his hands. He hacked the sand serpent enough to make it stop its descent and reverse course, then we both rode the flailing beast back to the surface where we leapt off.”
“He risked his life to save you?”
“He did.” His voice was warm at the memory. “What happened to me, happened to him.”
Linnea couldn’t help being warmed by the story. Then a surprised laugh escaped her, echoing strangely in the narrow passage. "Did you tell me that story just to distract me from where we are?"
"Perhaps," he admitted, and she could feel his pleasure at having succeeded. "Did it work?"
"It did," she said, affection humming through her at his kindness.
“I also told you that story to remind you that we are in this together every step of the way. What happens to you, happens to me.”
Linnea’s throat tightened. How strange that this warrior from the sands, who had once been nothing more than a passionate lapse in judgment, now understood her fears so intuitively.
They continued on, the passage gradually beginning to slope upward. Her laughter faded as she spotted something ahead—a faint sliver of lighter darkness that gradually resolved into a thin line of actual light.
Relief surged through Linnea so intensely that she broke into an awkward, crouching run, desperate to reach the exit, to feel open air on her face again. The light grew stronger with each step, revealing the outline of what appeared to be a wooden door and the light seeping in through gaps in the planks.
She reached it first, pushing against the weathered boards with both hands. It resisted for a moment, but when Zexx’s hands joined hers, the hinges gave way with a groan of surrender. Fresh air rushed in, cool and sweet after the stale atmosphere of the tunnel, and she nearly sobbed with relief.
But as she prepared to step through the opening, the sound of voices froze her in place. Male voices, low and gruff, coming from just outside the doorway.
Terror gripped her, stealing her breath and locking her muscles. Had the council's guards found their escape route? Had they been waiting for them all along, knowing they would eventually emerge like sand rats from a hole?
She felt Zexx tense behind her, his body coiling with the readiness of a warrior prepared to fight. His hand found hers again, squeezing once—reassurance or farewell, she couldn't tell which.
The voices grew closer, words becoming clearer, and she pressed herself against the tunnel wall, desperately hoping the darkness would conceal them for just a moment longer.