CHAPTER FORTY-SIX #3
“Your secrets remain buried with me and safe. Keep scheming with the rebels, keep pretending to serve a brother you hate. But if you so much as look at Lioran the wrong way… Arthur will know everything.”
The silence that followed stretched taut. Then, finally, Kay nodded—stiff, bitter.
“It seems we understand each other.” His jaw clenched tight.
Elenora’s smile was blade-thin. “Very good.”
She gestured toward the door with a single elegant movement—calm, yet threatening.
“Now leave us.”
Kay bristled. “These are my chambers,” he snapped, defiance flaring for a single, foolish second.
“You’ll return once we’ve gone. Unless, of course, you’d prefer I discuss this with Arthur over breakfast?”
Kay's eyes darted between Elenora's unnaturally calm expression and the subtle shimmer of magic that seemed to dance just beneath her skin. Whatever power this woman wielded, it was far beyond anything he could hope to match with steel.
“Who the bloody hell are you—you’re clearly not the wench you pretend to be,” he growled, his eyes searching her face, desperate to find the edges of her.
Elenora tilted her head, just slightly.
“My identity is no concern of yours.”
Kay’s jaw flexed, teeth grinding loud enough to hear.
"And don't forget to pull up your braies, Kay; I doubt anyone wants to witness the appendage that hangs between your legs."
He didn’t speak—just reached down, gripped the linen, and yanked it up to his waist, looking down at the large pool of urine that stained it.
"I've pissed myself. At least, allow me the courtesy of—"
"—you are allowed no courtesies. Now step outside until we have concluded our business." She paused. "And you will face the stone wall."
His eyes found mine. Venomous. Yes, definitely a promise.
Then he walked to the door, throwing it open before disappearing into the corridor.
The moment the door shut behind him, Elenora immediately turned to face me. Her hands were unexpectedly gentle as she helped me to my feet.
“Can you walk?” she asked, her voice a whisper now—soft, grounded.
I nodded shakily, the drugged wine strangely clouding my thoughts once again. She tore the sheet from Kay’s bed and draped it over my shoulders without a word.
"How did you—"
But she shook her head. "We cannot speak here. It's not safe. We need to go. Now.” Her voice sharpened again, low and urgent.
With one hand steadying me and the other gripping her dagger, Elenora led me into the dimly lit hall.
The cold stone beneath my bare feet sent shivers through my already trembling body, and I clutched the sheet tighter around my shoulders.
My vision still swam from whatever Kay had put in that wine, making the torchlit corridor blur and waver like a nightmare.
Kay stood there against the rough stone wall, his back to us, still holding his soiled breeches around his waist with white-knuckled fists.
The stench of urine clung to the air around him, a humiliating reminder of Elenora's power over him.
His shoulders were rigid with barely contained rage, and I could hear his breathing—sharp, controlled, seething.
Elenora said nothing to him as we passed, her silence more menacing than any threat she could have voiced.
But I felt his presence like a blade at my back, the weight of his hatred following our every step.
The moment we moved beyond him, I heard the sharp slam of his chamber door—violent enough to rattle the iron hinges.
I knew with absolute certainty that this was far from over. Whatever humiliation Elenora had just inflicted on him would only feed the venomous promise I'd seen burning in his eyes.
The torchlit corridors of Camelot faded behind us as we slipped into the castle’s hidden arteries: narrow servant paths, blind alleys, and forgotten stairwells that twisted deep into the fortress’s bones.
The sheet dragged behind me, snagging on rough stones.
I stumbled often, still unsteady from the wine, but Elenora never let me fall.
She knew every passage. Every stone.
We avoided the main halls, ducking from torchlight like hunted animals. She led me through storage rooms thick with dust, weaving between crates and broken furniture as if walking a memorized path.
"Where are we going?" I managed.
"Somewhere safe."
At times, she pressed her hand to seemingly solid walls, and hidden alcoves opened. Stone groaned softly as unseen mechanisms unlocked. She moved with the confidence born not just of familiarity—but ownership.
She didn’t just know these secret paths.
She belonged to them.
Or rather—they belonged to her.
That thought chilled me more than the damp air curling around us.
“Watch your step." She steadied me again as we descended a spiral staircase so narrow that both my shoulders scraped the walls.
“How did you find me?” I whispered, breath ragged.
“I’ve been watching Kay for a long time." She checked a corner before motioning me forward. “Both waking… and dreaming.”
I paused. “Waking and dreaming?”
She glanced back at me with a raised brow. “Yes.”
I blinked.
She nodded, already moving again.
“Yes. I can dream walk.”
She moved with soundless accuracy, fingertips flicking up now and then to halt me when distant footsteps echoed off the stone.
I watched, transfixed by the transformation of the person I had thought she was.
The coquettish sway, the fluttering lashes—gone.
In their place: the lethal grace of someone trained in stealth and survival.
Every step placed with intention. Every breath controlled.
After several tense minutes threading through the sleeping castle, we reached what looked like a dead end. But then Elenora pressed her palm to an unremarkable stone, and a doorway opened with a whisper.
She guided me into an abandoned tower room—long forgotten, dust-laden. Furniture loomed like ghosts beneath yellowed sheets of fabric, and cobwebs hung like banners of time. The air was heavy with rot, soot, and something older: the metallic tang of burned magic.
"Where are we?" I asked.
“The north tower." She closed the door behind us. “Abandoned after lightning struck it during Arthur and Merlin’s duel. Servants believe it’s haunted.”
Little did they know, she was the ghost who haunted it.