Chapter 152
Fluff led us away from the grand halls and into the older section of the palace.
The polished marble floors gradually gave way to cold stone, and the sounds of the wedding preparations faded behind us until they were replaced by the occasional clank of armour and the distant drip of water.
The farther we went, the heavier the air seemed to become. Even the magic surrounding us felt oppressive.
Fluff suddenly slowed. His ears twitched before he darted behind a stone pillar.
I immediately caught Lucien by the sleeve and pulled him into the shadows.
“What—”
“Shh.”
Two guards rounded the corner, their voices reaching us before they did.
“I’m telling you, that prisoner isn’t human. Four days… four days inside the Solithium ward.”
The second guard gave a low whistle.
“I heard they increased the concentration yesterday.”
“They did.”
“And?”
“He still hasn’t broken.”
My grip tightened around the tray.
The first guard shook his head.
“He won’t eat. The kitchen keeps sending meals down, but the maids delivering the food have all died screaming from the hallucinations caused by the Solithium. It’s a waste of good food and good pleasures, if you ask me.”
He laughed.
The second guard chuckled.
“The commander said to keep him alive for the wedding.”
“I heard His Majesty wants him alive until the ceremony is over.”
“Why?”
“No idea. Maybe he wants to make an example of him.”
The first guard snorted.
“He hasn’t said a word to anyone. Not when they chained him, not when they beat him, and not even after the Solithium started draining him.”
They fell silent for a moment.
Then one of them muttered, almost reluctantly, “I almost pity him.”
His companion immediately shot him a warning look.
“Careful. We’re soldiers. We don’t pity enemies.”
“Right.”
The two guards continued down the corridor until their footsteps eventually disappeared.
Neither Lucien nor I moved until we were certain they were gone. Only then did I finally release the breath I had been holding.
“He’s hurting… He hasn’t eaten. What have they done to him?” I whispered.
The thought made my stomach twist.
Lucien immediately placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Hey.. We’ll get to him, Cass. He’s the strongest person I’ve ever known. Nothing will happen to him. We’ll save him.”
I nodded, forcing myself to push the fear back down.
Fluff gave an impatient little meow, almost as though he were reminding us why we were here.
I crouched beside him and stroked his head.
“You’ve found him, haven’t you?”
Fluff looked toward an iron staircase at the end of the corridor before turning back to me.
“Meow.”
I followed his gaze.
The staircase descended into darkness, and above its entrance hung a weathered iron plaque.
Restricted Access.
Lucien adjusted the helmet he had taken from the unconscious guard.
“Looks like we’re going down.”
I tightened my grip on the serving tray.
“Let’s hope this disguise lasts a little longer.”
Together, we headed down the staircase, following Fluff into the depths of the palace.
---
The staircase spiralled deep beneath the palace, and with every step, the air grew colder. The lively sounds of the wedding preparations disappeared completely, replaced by the rhythmic drip of water somewhere in the darkness.
Fluff reached the bottom first and stopped beside a heavy iron gate.
He sat down and looked back at us.
“Meow.”
“We’re here,” I whispered.
Beyond the gate stretched a long corridor lined with iron doors. Guards stood at regular intervals with spears in hand, while another set of massive doors blocked the passage at the far end.
A prison within a prison.
Lucien straightened his shoulders, suddenly every bit the palace guard he was pretending to be.
The farther we went, the fewer guards we encountered, but the magical pressure surrounding the prison grew stronger. I could feel something dangerous pulsing through the stone, and even the most powerful mage would have thought twice before entering this place without adequate protection.
“Keep your head down,” Lucien murmured.
I lowered my gaze and balanced the tray carefully in my hands.
We reached another gate where only a single guard remained stationed.
He frowned when he saw us.
“Halt.”
Lucien stepped forward before I could say anything.
“Kitchen delivery.”
The guard eyed the tray suspiciously.
“For whom?”
“The prisoner.”
The guard clicked his tongue.
“Waste of food. And waste of a lady.”
He chuckled before unlocking the gate.
“Go on.”
We had barely taken three steps inside when a booming voice echoed through the corridor.
“You!”
The guard immediately snapped to attention.
A tall man in black armour strode toward us, a crimson cape flowing behind him. He was clearly a higher-ranking officer, and unlike the other soldiers, his armour bore silver engravings that caught the torchlight.
He gestured toward the guard who had opened the gate.
“You are being reassigned to watch the cleaning staff. Go.”
“Yes, Sir Ruther.”
The guard hurried away.
Ruther’s sharp eyes immediately settled on Lucien.
“You.”
He stopped directly in front of him.
“Remove your helmet.”
My stomach dropped.
Lucien obeyed without hesitation. In the dim light, his identity was difficult to recognise beneath the disguise, although his blonde hair was still visible.
The officer frowned.
“…Bren?”
Lucien gave a stiff nod.
“Sir.”
Ruther’s voice hardened.
“Weren’t you assigned to the eastern watchtower?”
“Sir, I was ordered to accompany the maid to deliver food to the prisoner.”
Ruther took another step closer.
“You brainless fool. Why have you abandoned your post, and who gave you the order?”
He studied Lucien’s face before his expression became increasingly suspicious.
“Nothing happens in this prison without my approval. The guards here know very well what the consequences are for disobeying a direct order from their superior.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You’re not Bren, are you?”
Then he turned toward me.
“And a maid who has voluntarily agreed to feed the prisoner?”
His hand moved to the hilt of his sword.
“Who are you both?”
His voice grew louder with every suspicious question.
If he raised it any further, half the prison guards would be here within seconds. Lucien looked ready to strike him down with his own sword, but any disturbance in this part of the dungeons could alert the guards outside.
I needed to do something.
Quickly.
Think, Cassiane. Think.
I slowly moved my fingers beneath the tray and muttered the first spell that came to mind.
“Nex Mortis Kalyth Gorgoroth.”
A tiny pulse of pink magic shot toward Ruther.
He froze.
His mouth closed, and he stood completely still.
I nearly sagged with relief.
It had worked.
Then Ruther inhaled deeply and turned toward me.
One hand rose dramatically to his chest, and his expression softened into something so profoundly lovesick that I immediately knew something had gone terribly wrong.
“Oh… what are you doing?” I asked, blinking.
Ruther’s voice trembled with emotion.
“Moon of my miserable existence.”
“…What?”
He took another step toward me.
“Never before have I witnessed such breathtaking elegance.”
Lucien slowly turned his head toward me.
Ruther continued, completely oblivious to the horrified silence surrounding him.
“Your smile outshines the sunrise.”
He pressed a hand more firmly against his heart.
“You are the butter upon the bread of my soul.”
I stared at him.
Lucien stared at him.
Then Lucien slowly pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Cassiane…”
His voice was suspiciously strained.
“Did you cast a love spell?”
I closed my eyes for one long second.
“…I may have mixed up the runes.”
The guard dropped to one knee.
“My lady. I would wrestle a dragon for you.”
I stared at him in horror.
“I would drink boiling soup.”
Lucien’s shoulders began shaking.
Ruther continued passionately.
“I would write your name across the heavens.”
A strangled sound escaped Lucien.
I shot him the deadliest glare I could manage.
He immediately looked away, but his trembling shoulders betrayed him.
“You are not allowed to laugh.”
That only made it worse.
“I am not laughing,” he managed to say.
“You absolutely are.”
“I swear I’m trying not to.”
Ruther clasped his hands together and gazed at me as though I had personally descended from the heavens to save his miserable existence.
“Tell me your name, my celestial lady, so that I may carve it upon my heart.”
I stared at him.
Then I looked at Lucien.
Then back at Ruther.
Of all the possible ways this mission could have gone wrong, accidentally turning the chief prison guard into a lovesick fool had not even made my list.