Chapter 43
The hour has come, the moment I’ve been desperately waiting for. At last, it’s time to save my sister.
Wrapped in a cloak, I stalk through a darkened tunnel with the grail safely tucked in a cloth inside a bag over my shoulder. I hold a candle to guide me through the underground tunnels. If anyone catches me, I’m armed with several daggers strapped to my thighs and around my waist.
I refuse to fuck this up.
This is my only chance to heal Vero.
All day, I mentally reviewed the plan for tonight.
Tristan said I could no longer scale the wall outside.
In the past few days, there have been extra patrols guarding that spot, but he found another way out for me.
He mapped out the guards’ movements and the exact timing of their patrols.
I spent all day painstakingly memorizing everything I’ll need to escape unnoticed.
Now I’m skulking through the ancient passages and wine vaults beneath the Veiled Court. A labyrinthine path leads from the servants’ quarters through a crypt, more tunnels, a dungeon, and finally, out to the seashore.
Having spent ten years under a castle, I feel strangely at home down here in the mold and damp, breathing in the soil. This is my domain, among the scent of old bones.
Mentally, I go through the guards’ rotations as I walk. In about ten minutes, a soldier will be stalking through the dungeons, searching for anything out of place. I’m counting every second and minute to make sure I have the timing right.
I reach an oak door fortified with metal nails and reach into my pocket for a skeleton key—another gift from Tristan.
I press my ear to the wood. Silence. Sliding the key into the lock, I open the door to the dungeons, the creak of the hinges echoing loudly in the quiet of the night. Wincing at the sound, I slip into a shadowed corridor.
The hallway smells of dirt, mold, and death.
My candle gutters as I walk, flickering light over rusting metal cell bars.
Skeletons lie on stone floors, their toothy grins agape.
Starved to death, perhaps. Locked up and forgotten, a macabre menagerie of people who offended the last king in one way or another.
I swallow hard and walk faster, passing row after row of cells as I head toward the crypt.
It seems to go on forever, and my heart rate picks up until I’m nearly jogging.
I count the minutes as I trot. Six and a half minutes now until a guard sweeps through this exact path.
Ten minutes until someone crosses the crypt.
At last, I reach the other end of the dungeon. I slide the key into the lock again and unlock it with a click. I slip the key back into my pocket. Gently, I edge the door open.
The hinges creak again, and I wince, the sound as loud as a shriek in my ears. I hold my breath, then slip into another hall and carefully shut the door behind me. A long corridor takes me from here to the crypt, and I should be able to make it in time. I run through the corridor.
Eight minutes now until someone heads this way—
But as I reach the crypt, I already hear the footfalls. My breath catches.
Why are they early?
I can’t turn back toward the dungeon—another guard will be heading past the cells any minute now.
Fuck. I’m trapped between two patrols heading through the crypt from opposite directions. They’ll be closing in on me like pincers.
The sound of footfalls draws closer, and I blow out my candle as I scurry to the crypt wall. Carefully, I set down my candlestick and tuck the bag with the grail in the shadows by a coffin. I can’t risk damaging it.
Quietly, I climb the stone catacomb niches, using them as a ladder to reach the ceiling. At the top, I reach for the rafters, wooden beams that span the ceiling above the crypt. I grip one of them, then swing my legs up and climb on top of it, my heart pounding hard in my chest.
A moment later, the swaying light of a lantern comes into view, and a raven-haired soldier stalks into the crypt, shifting his light around.
From the dungeon side, the door groans open.
I’m hardly breathing up here, and fear flickers through my veins.
The second soldier marches into the crypt, and he nods. “Didn’t expect you here.”
The dark-haired soldier sighs. “They increased patrols, didn’t they? Ever since someone murdered Lord Cador. Too much, if you ask me. No one’s down here.”
“Haven’t slept in days.” The second soldier starts to move on—then freezes. Slowly, he turns to look at the candle I left on the floor by the wall.
“Hang on.” He kneels and picks up the candle, pressing a finger into the soft, warm wax.
“Is that new?” asks the other soldier.
“Still warm. Like someone just blew it out. Don’t imagine it was these fellas, was it?”
The soldiers start to move their lanterns around the room, searching.
My blood hammers, and my gaze darts to the bag with the grail, still hidden in the shadows. I can’t let them find that. And if they look up, I’m done for.
When the raven-haired soldier turns his back on the other one, I leap down onto the ground.
My blade carves through his throat before he has a chance to scream, and blood sprays from his neck. He drops his lantern with a bang, shattering the glass.
I whirl to face the other soldier just as he’s turning to look.
He’s starting to scream the word “Treason!” when my blade in his throat cuts the cry. His lantern smashes onto the stone, too, and the oil spills. Flames ignite, racing across the crypt floor, blazing over the spattered oil.
Heart galloping, I find the bag with the grail tucked in the shadows where I left it. The flames in the room leap and spread.
Seizing the bag, I run back to the crypt niches, climbing to the rafters once more. Heat scorches the room as I hoist myself over a wooden beam and crawl above the fire, sweating in the heat. The rafters are starting to smolder and blacken beneath me.
At last, I reach the door. I drop down again and move through the darkness.
An alarm bell sounds, the loud, clanging noise ringing off the stones. I’m almost there—nearly to the door, to the sea, and to freedom. Except I’ve lost track of my meticulous counting, and without my candle, I can hardly see a thing.
I no longer have any idea where the patrols are, but I can hear them shouting as they run to put out the fire.
I think I know where I’m going based on the map I memorized, but I can barely see the contours of the walls. Blindly, I feel along the damp stone. In the distance, the amber light of a lantern passes at the end of a passage, and I freeze, holding my breath.
He’s not coming my way.
All it takes is one wrong turn for everything to be over. One noise, one false step, and Vero could die.
I stay still for a moment, slowing my breath, calming my thoughts. I call to mind once more the maps I memorized all day, their twists and turns that lead to the sea. I rebuild my mental image of the route and start moving again, ticking off each right and left as I walk.
At last, my fingers touch a new surface—damp, aged wood instead of stone.
Tears sting my eyes. I’ve made it to the door, and I still have the grail. Even if I never make it back here, I’ll save Vero.
I turn to look back, where only darkness greets me, and the distant shouts about fire.
Gently, I pull open the door to the shoreline and the wide-open sea.
Tonight, clouds cover the sky. The only light out here comes from my own halo, but I keep my cowl raised, trying to cover its glow.
Reaching the shoreline, I break into a run, heading for the cottage where Tristan promised to bring my sister.
I pray to the gods that it’s not too late for her.