Chapter 17
Aoife
Following the king might amount to nothing, but I had a hunch he’d been in a hurry to get
somewhere, to do something.
I just didn’t know what.
He disappeared around the corner at the end of the long hallway, and I hurried after him, staying close to the walls, the white stone cool against my skin. I was light on my feet and able to stay quiet so he wouldn’t hear me. I turned the corner to see Lor descending a spiral set of stairs.
“Hi!” a voice said from beside me, and I jumped to see Margaret pop up in a painting.
I put a hand to my heart. “Margaret, must you do that?”
“Do what?” she asked from where she stood in front of a backdrop of rolling green hills.
“Pop up out of nowhere.”
She frowned, a slight wrinkle forming in her otherwise flawless pale skin. “Well, I don’t know any other way to appear, Your Majesty.”
The stairwell was empty now, Lor already gone.
“Oh! Your Majesty,” Margaret said as I kept walking, hopping from painting to painting to keep up with me. “Ceri extended an invitation. A wine and cheese night at the dress shop!”
“No,” I said. I’d gotten a few invitations from the Wolfgang members over the years, but I had no interest. It wasn’t that I was trying to be rude, but I suspected they were all attempting to sway me, to get me to see Lor in some different light.
That they all had ulterior motives somehow.
They didn’t want to spend time with me, not really.
I had no interest in spending a night hearing all the wonderful things about Lorcan Wolfgang.
I already knew how perfect he was. I didn’t need to hear more of it.
I approached the stairwell, hoping I’d still be able to find Lor and figure out what had him running from our meeting in such a hurry.
“Are you sure?” Margaret asked. “I believe Meera will be in attendance.”
“Good for Meera.” I stopped in front of the stairwell that spiraled downward. “If you’ll excuse me, Margaret, I’ve got somewhere to be.”
The painting’s face fell, and I regretted my sharp tone momentarily, but it was quickly forgotten as I stepped down onto the staircase, and it began shifting.
I whirled, but the corridor was no longer there as a stone wall unraveled behind me, blocking me.
“Where are you taking me, Castle?” I asked, frustration filling me.
Knowing Castle, it was shifting me far away from Lor. It had tried pushing us together before, and the results had been disastrous, so I doubted that it was helping me.
I slumped against the stairs as they twisted, stone crunching and flying over my head.
Flashes of the blue sky and green canopies that surrounded Fairwitch Isle filled my view, quickly blocked by shifting white alabaster stone that whirled around.
I stayed still, hands planted on my hips as I waited to see where Castle was sending me.
Stairs formed, leading downward. I had no choice but to follow, so I took a tentative step, waiting for the next step to form, and the next, and the next.
Stone fell around me to form walls, but this stone wasn’t white. It was a dull grey. The dungeons.
A shiver ran up my spine as images of Castle locking me away were conjured in my mind.
Maybe Castle had changed its mind, decided I was no longer fit to be its queen and Lor could rule all on his own.
A cold sweat broke out over my skin. I’d been sent to the dungeons many times as a slave.
Punishment for my loose tongue or rebellious nature.
I was starved and sometimes beaten. I squeezed my eyes shut.
Castle wouldn’t do that to me.
I’d gotten so lost in my thoughts, I almost missed the quiet voices echoing in the dark. The final stair appeared, jagged and broken, and I stepped off of it into the dim corridor, lit only by a few sconces flickering on the wall.
It smelled ancient down here, like even the dust lining the bars of the cells had been here for thousands of years.
The voices echoed again, whispers that I might have mistaken as the wind or Castle playing tricks if I didn’t suspect that Lor was down here right now.
I walked deeper into the dungeon, passing empty cell after empty cell.
These cells used to be filled with mortals, Fair Folk, even godwitches who had broken laws or displeased Fairwitch.
I shuddered, remembering how it felt to be stuck in one of those cells, the smell of urine and feces filling the air.
I continued on, turning around a corner and delving further in, darkness swallowing me while the voices became louder, enough that I could make out the words.
“You need to decide,” an unfamiliar male voice said. “You can’t just let me die in here.”
“You’re not going to die,” Lor said, frustration lacing his words.
What was this? I’d certainly never heard of a prisoner being held down here.
I had missed many meetings and not paid attention in many more, but I was sure someone would’ve said something about a prisoner, especially when they were so rare.
I crept forward, turning yet another corner and quickly scrambling backward when I caught sight of Lor with a hunched male figure.
“Do you know what new weapon the brotherhood might possess?” Lor asked.
The brotherhood? Why would this prisoner know about them . . . unless he was one of the brotherhood.
“I’ve been stuck in this cell for two years. Everyone in the brotherhood assumes I’m dead. What could I possibly know?”
“Maybe they told you of plans they had before you left.”
I peeked around the corner, Lor’s back to me while the prisoner still sat on the stone ground, looking up at Lor.
“Before I was taken prisoner, you mean?”
“Damnit, Ronan, this is important.”
Ronan. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but I wasn’t sure why.
“You were part of the same brotherhood as I was. We both disappeared at the same time.”
“Yes.” Lor’s voice grew impatient. “But you were part of a different faction, privy to information I might not have had.”
“I might’ve heard talks about various plans, but that doesn’t mean any of them came to fruition. I might be more willing to speak if you gave me some incentive.”
Lor shoved a hand through his hair, his muscles coiled tight with frustration. “I can’t let you go,” he said. “You’ll find a way back to the brotherhood, and you’ll tell them exactly where we are.”
“They know where you are,” Ronan said, and I caught a flash of a sneer on his face.
“No,” Lor said. “They don’t.”
I was having a hard time following this conversation. I knew Lor used to be a spy, that he’d infiltrated the brotherhood, worked his way up in rank, and the entire time was trying to bring them down from within.
“And if you’re not going to let me go, then just kill me,” Ronan said. “I’m going to lose my mind being stuck down here all alone in the dark. You have to do something with me. You have to decide.”
“I know that,” Lor snapped, and he began pacing.
I’d never seen him so agitated. Well, he was agitated all the time with me, but not like this, not so outwardly showing it. The king was always this perfect image of calm. So decisive.
It dawned on me why this situation was so hard for him.
Lorcan Wolfgang didn’t know what to do. His conscience wouldn’t allow him to kill this man for whatever reason, but it also wouldn’t allow him to let the man go.
This man who always seemed to know everything, who always had an answer, who was practically perfect, was keeping a brotherhood member down here in the dungeons in secret.
“What did I ever do to deserve this?” Ronan croaked out.
“Nothing,” Lor said. “You just got stuck in an unfortunate situation, and I am doing my best, Ronan. I’m trying to keep you alive while figuring out a solution that won’t mean someone getting hurt.”
“That’s not always possible,” Ronan said, coming to a stand.
Dirt covered his ebony skin, and holes riddled his worn clothing.
“I brought this for you.” Lor reached through the bars, offering Ronan what looked like a soft blanket and clothes. “Yours are getting a little worn.”
In the blink of an eye, Ronan had grabbed Lor’s arm and slammed his back into the bars of his cell. He brought a hand around Lor’s throat, closing a tight fist.
I didn’t even think before I was moving, barging around the corner and portaling inside the man’s cell in a whirl of golden magic.
He didn’t have a chance to move before I’d reached out and slammed his head into the bars. He crumpled to the floor between Lor and me, both of us staring at each other. Lor massaged his neck, his deep brown eyes widened in shock.
“What in the godwitches?” he asked.
I portaled back outside the cell, shuddering at the feel of using the magic given to me by the godwitches. “That was me saving you.” I looked down at the unconscious man, his chest rising and falling with slow breaths. He’d awaken soon, and he’d have a horrible headache.
Lor backed into the stone wall and sank down, staring at Ronan with sorrow shining bright in his eyes. “I should’ve killed him long ago, but I couldn’t.”
I came to a seat next to him, a little unnerved by how indecisive he was acting. It softened my anger, lessened my instinct to lash out at him for hiding one of the enemy. “Why haven’t you killed him?”
Lor’s jaw worked back and forth. “Because he was just another soldier recruited by the brotherhood, someone manipulated by them. Another victim. And I’ve held out this hope that I could bring the brotherhood down, then set him free, let him live the life he deserved.”
The answer didn’t surprise me. It was a very Lor answer, but what did surprise me was my reaction. Admiration broke through my regular disdain, and I shifted, uncomfortable with the feeling.
His head hung, and he looked so beaten down, I couldn’t help but comfort him. “You can’t save everyone, Lor.”