21. Emmerick
Chapter 21
Emmerick
S ince that awful day when I’d faced Sybilla in the council meeting, I kept replaying her hurt expression when I’d told her to call me King Mattock.
That was what she’d wanted. She wanted me here, to rule, to learn this role.
It was the middle of the night. I sat by the crackling fire in my bedchamber in a big leather chair. Despite it being late spring, in Helos the nights still grew cold, the city less temperate than Luz.
A creaking sound from the hallway caught my attention. A cross between the feeling of being watched and a sense of dread scraped down the back of my neck like fingernails.
I grabbed my dagger, lovingly named Angeline after my mother, and slipped quietly out of my bedchamber. My gaze scanned the hallway—a window had blown open at the end of it, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
Reaching the end of the hall, I found a gaping part in the stones...a hidden passageway. The stones, where there had been a wall, were pushed in, creating a space perfectly sized for a man, even one of my size, to slip through. A dark stairway descended.
The only thing I knew lay below the castle were catacombs.
I gripped the dagger. “Angeline—something feels a little off here, eh?” I whispered to my weapon. There were plenty of logical reasons the passage could be open. Maybe maids lit candles in the tombs below. Simpler yet, maybe the passage was used for quicker access to other parts of the castle and someone simply had forgotten to close it behind them.
I didn’t yet have my bearings on the traditions of this Corridor or the layout of this colossal estate.
I stepped down the stairs and held my free hand out, creating a small orb of golden light in my palm. It took so much concentration. The first time Asterie and Amara had taught me how, I’d nearly passed out. Wielding my Sun Source was coming to me quickly, but it was taxing. They’d said it was normal to feel that way.
The light cast on the stone walls as I descended into the belly of the Castle of Helos. Candles lit the walls, but they didn’t look intentionally placed or meant for commemoration.
“What are you doing in the crypts at this hour?”
I jumped a foot in the air and spun with my dagger pointed, only to meet a lithe auburn-haired adversary.
Elsedora raised a brow at the dagger. She wore a dark tunic and dust-coated leather breeches. Her hair was in a loose braid over her shoulder, disheveled and cobweb coated as though she had just been rummaging around the crypt for something.
“What are you doing in the crypts of Helos? Who the hell let you in?”
“I followed the wind,” she said, glancing around the space. When she stepped away from me, I followed her.
This night was starting to feel very strange.
“So did I,” I admitted. “Well, from the window.”
“Hah! The wind is intuitive...Sometimes it puts you exactly where you’re meant to be, doesn’t it?” she mused. “So that means you did not open the passageway—hmm.”
Fantastic. She was now speaking in riddles.
“Why are you here, Elsedora?”
She shrugged and approached a large stone tomb, where she bent down to collect a leather messenger bag. She slung it over her shoulder, and I wondered if she was here to steal valuables. How much gold had she stuffed into that bag?
“Did you notice this one has been cracked open?” she asked, avoiding my question. She pointed to the large stone top that was split down the center and pulled aside. It would have been far too heavy for her to move alone.
“I’ve never been down here before.”
She assessed me, looking me up and down like she was sizing up an animal at a market. “You sure about that, puppy?”
“Quit calling me that.”
“But you have the saddest eyes, and I’ve witnessed your guard dog skills firsthand—such a good boy.” She let out a playful ‘ woof ’ over her shoulder as she swaggered toward the stairs.
“You didn’t answer me,” I challenged. “Why are you here?
“I already told you—I followed the wind.” She turned back to look at me from the second step. “And we got word that a threat might have come from the North...I am here to check that all is well—magically and politically speaking.”
“Next time, get permission. Egressing into another ruler’s home against their wishes is a threat. It is an executable offense.”
She smirked. “You going to kill me then, pet?”
I tilted my head. What about that did she find so amusing?
“Ah—see, there it is,” she said and mimicked my head tilting.
Before I could respond, she trotted up the steps, her feet silent against the stone. She’d make a terrifying assassin.
I followed, not ready to let this conversation die, taking the steps in twos. By the time I reached the top and glanced both ways, she was gone.