Chapter 5 #3
The two men I’d locked in the cell might be the only ones on patrol. I might have asked them, but I couldn’t trust their answer.
I edged around the corner, scanning both directions. To the left lay a longer stretch of cells, the glow of torchlight fading into blue shadow at the far end. To the right was a short passage and then an enormous black iron door studded with silver spikes.
The torches flickered, but the flames didn’t bend in one direction over another to suggest a draft of fresh air. My heart hitched. The scent of blood and sweat filled my lungs.
Chains clinked down the path to the left, and I guessed there were prisoners down there beyond what I could see.
I continued forward the way I’d come in, looking around cautiously.
Up ahead, maybe another hundred feet, was the start of the staircase.
As I scanned the space, I noticed a small, narrow corridor that cut into the wall to my right.
I’d missed it when I’d been dragged here.
It looked like it might lead inside the castle.
An iron-banded door with a lock stood at the end of the narrow corridor, just a couple of yards away. Maybe it led to the kitchens or another way out. Either way, it wasn’t a path they’d expect me to take.
My gut said it was the safest choice. The iron key with two flares on the blade and three grooves fit into the door’s lock.
It turned easily, as if it had been opened many times.
The hallway beyond was warmer, the stone floor cleaner.
Cautiously, I made my way into the hall.
Gazing down it, I could see that other hallways intersected it, but I didn’t hear anyone.
On the left wall were cubbies filled with boots, gloves, rope, buckets, and so on.
Thinking it might be useful, I grabbed a coil of rope and looped it up over my arm and shoulder like the world’s most uncomfortable purse.
The buckets were also tempting, but I didn’t want to weigh myself down too much.
As I continued down the hall, bootsteps echoed faintly beyond me. I stopped and pressed myself flat against the wall. The steps were heavy. Unhurried. Two guards making rounds, if the footsteps were an indicator.
My chest squeezed.
I waited until the rhythm faded, counting breaths—four, ten, thirty—before peeling myself away and moving again.
They were probably going to check the cells holding prisoners. I had maybe minutes before they realized I was gone.
A stairwell loomed ahead like a gaping wound of stone. I hugged the inner wall and climbed carefully, wincing every time my shoes squeaked.
Still no one.
Any minute, I expected to hear shouts and alarms.
The staircase spiraled tighter and tighter to the next floor, opening onto a landing and then up to the next.
The farther up I went, the more the air cooled.
By the time I reached the third floor, my fingers ached with cold despite the gloves, and the air felt sharper, thinner, as if the castle was shedding warmth the higher I climbed.
My lungs ached by the time I reached the top, both from fear and from the cold slicing through the air.
This cold was vicious. Worse than anything I’d weathered in Tennessee. My face and throat ached from it, but somehow the coat and gloves kept me warm. With the way the temperature had dropped, I guessed night was fully here.
That worked for me. I could use the darkness to my advantage, especially with this dark navy coat.
A narrow landing opened ahead, lit by a single torch guttering low. Another iron-banded door sat at the far end.
Please lead outside.
I slid the keyring from my pocket and worked through the keys by touch, hands shaking from exertion and nerves. One key scraped uselessly, and another stuck halfway in.
Come on.
The third key with a triangular notch slid in and turned with a dull click.
I eased the door open an inch.
Cold night air slammed into me, and the wind whistled through the gap. The chill of the hall and the stairwell was nothing compared to this.
I bit back a pained grunt and peeked out.
A stone walkway stretched before me in a long straight line, providing access to the towers that were scattered at intervals.
Already, it was slick and sparkling with frost, a waist-high wall on either side.
Night pressed close, heavy clouds dragging across the sky.
Snow drifted down in lazy, stinging flakes.
The moon appeared and vanished behind cloud cover, painting everything in shifting silver and shadow.
I crouched instinctively, heart hammering.
Two guards patrolled the walkway—one far to my left, another even farther to the right. They moved at a slow, steady pace, as if they’d been on duty for hours and nothing significant had happened, boots crunching softly, heads down against the cold.
I eased forward, staying low, keeping to the darker patches the torchlight didn’t quite reach. My coat brushed the stone with each step, the fabric whispering too loudly in my ears. Then I dared a glance over the parapet.
My stomach dropped. I was so screwed.