Chapter 40
Mistel
Mistel awoke to the muffled sounds of a struggle. She blinked at her dark, cramped surroundings. Two guards entered her line of sight, dragging a man toward her. They stopped right in front of her cage and unceremoniously dumped him on the floor like cargo. He groaned and rolled onto his side.
Her breath caught. Cole.
The dim light revealed blood streaking one cheek, closed eyes. As the guards opened the neighboring cage, her fingers tightened on the cold iron bars. Every instinct screamed at her to call out to Cole, to reach for him, but she held her tongue. Better that no one find out she knew him.
The guards dragged Cole upright. He came to life then, struggling against them with sudden energy. For a moment, Mistel thought he might break free, but before his resistance could amount to anything, they forced him inside the cage and slammed the door shut.
Cole thrashed in his cage, and Mistel’s throat burned with the effort of holding her tongue. She waited, pulse thundering in her ears, until the guards disappeared between two rows of crates. Only when the echoes of their footsteps faded did she dare to whisper.
“Cole.”
He groaned, his voice faint when he said, “Mistel.”
Her heart squeezed. He sounded so dazed, so utterly vulnerable. Did he think he was dreaming? She tried again, louder this time. “Cole Tanniyn.”
His limbs tensed, his eyes flashed open, and he sucked in a sharp breath. He pushed himself up, only to strike his head against the low roof of his cage.
“Ahh!” He winced and rubbed his head. Then, finally—finally—he turned his attention her way.
For a moment, confusion clouded his gaze, but then his expression shifted. Recognition. Relief. Something deeper. Oh, how she loved watching his face transform as he realized she wasn’t a dream.
“You’re okay,” he breathed.
“Hello, my knightling,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
He grinned, a shy look that sent warmth through her. “Rescuing you.”
She twisted her lips and shot him a look. “Hmm…I’m confused. This is not the rescue I had in mind.”
His brow furrowed, putting that little wrinkle between his brows that she found so endearing. “Don’t worry. I’ll think of something.”
She laughed silently, unable to help herself.
Even now, in the middle of this nightmare, his confidence—however misplaced—lifted her spirits.
“Maybe you shouldn’t worry.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the keys she’d swiped earlier.
Letting them jangle softly, she tilted her head, watching his grin widen.
It was her favorite smile. The one that lit up his entire face.
“That’s my girl,” he said, his voice filled with admiration.
“We’re spies, after all,” she said. “And we stick together.”
Cole eyed the guards in the distance. “I think this might be taking our alliance a little too far.”
“Yes, well,” she said, “what was your grand master plan to rescue me, anyway?”
His gaze flickered across the warehouse, scanning the rows of crates and cages, before settling on another set of guards near the far wall. “There are a lot of guards,” he said. “Let’s sneak out the way we came—downstairs and through the tunnel to the Black Boar.”
Was that how she’d gotten here? “Don’t tell me Kurtz is down there waiting,” she said. “He’s afraid of the dark.”
“He went after my father.”
“Oh.” How unfortunate. They could use someone like Kurtz right about now.
Cole looked at her, his expression thoughtful. “You know, we’re all afraid of something. But we can’t let fear hold us captive.”
She tilted her head. “That’s very profound. Is it from a song?”
“No,” Cole said, still staring at her. “I was just thinking…Kurtz is afraid of the dark, yet he’s going to rescue my father anyway. True heroes do what they must, despite their fears. I made a promise to you, and I’m going to keep it.”
Oh, this boy melted her heart more every day. Carefully, she unlocked her cage. Then she reached through the bars and passed him the keys. “Let’s keep that promise together.”
Cole made quick work of his lock, and as he eased himself out of his cage, Mistel was already waiting. She thought he’d start leading her out of this nightmare, but instead, he slid his hand up her jaw and into her hair, cradling her face in one hand.
His voice came low, almost reverent. “I love you.”
Before she could process what he’d said, he kissed her.
Normally, such words would send her into a panic, but from Cole, they felt right. Perfect, even.
The kiss was brief—too brief—and when he pulled back, she could still feel the warmth of his lips. He turned to the flaxen-haired man in the next cage and handed him the keys through the bars. “Go with Arman,” he said softly, then slid his hand into Mistel’s.
Her pulse raced as he started through the maze of crates and cages, tugging her along.
“Wait!” the man behind them hissed.
Cole turned back. The man had already gotten out and, standing as he was, looked like a different person. Taller, strong and healthy. His features were striking: luminous blue eyes, golden waves of hair, and a knowing gaze that carried the weight of one who understood far more than he should.
“Enayim lema’ala,” he said, his voice resonant. “Take the teyvah to your king.” He held out his hand, and in it was a small box, a timeworn piece of dark oak about the size of a whetstone. A faint crest shimmered on the top that looked like a circle of flying birds.
Cole took it. “Thank you, uh, what’s your name?”
“Bahram Rakkel.”
Cole’s lips parted, and Mistel remembered this was the man who had shown Zanna the tunnel out of Ice Island.
“Where did you…?”
But Cole didn’t finish his question, because Bahram Rakkel began to fade away. His larger-than-life body grew vaporous until it vanished altogether.
Mistel could not stop staring at the place he’d been, her mouth gaping.
Cole tugged her hand until her arm went taut and she finally trailed after him, still looking over her shoulder at the place the man had been standing.
How?
When she lost sight of the cages, she turned her focus back to Cole. They slipped through the labyrinth of crates until they came to a sword propped beside a lantern nearly out of fuel. Cole threaded the sword into his belt, handed Mistel the lantern, took her hand, and they were off again.
Up ahead, Mistel spotted the stairs, but just before they reached it, a rotund figure stepped out of the shadows and blocked the way. He was bald, with a thin mustache and a smug grin that made her skin crawl. She’d seen him only once before, a day when they had played in the Dale.
Renshaw Thusk.
“Going somewhere?” he asked.