Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
HOOK
The guards shove me back into my room, and the door slams with enough force to wake the dead, which, given the Queen’s proclivities, might actually be wandering these halls.
I press my hands to the cold wood, listening as their footsteps retreat.
Of course, the door’s locked again. Why wouldn’t it be?
When I’m sure they’re gone, I let out a breath, letting my shoulders sag a little.
What a bloody performance that was downstairs—and what a show it could’ve been.
But Alice is alive. Alive and probably plotting creative ways to murder me, but breathing nonetheless. I’ll be sure to collect her gratitude later.
I pace the length of my room, boots silent on the plush carpet, the Queen’s smug smile lingering in my mind, along with the way her fingers trailed down my chest right before she dismissed me.
She thinks she’s won something—secured my loyalty or maybe my fear.
Ha. Any half-decent pirate knows better than to trust a charming smile and pretty words, no matter how attractive the package.
Foolish Queen.
I am no fool.
But even I can’t deny the relief I feel. Alice is alive, locked up, yes; furious with me, certainly; and here I am, wearing a hole in the Queen’s fancy rug, thinking about her survival like some hero in a fairy tale.
The Hook of the past would’ve let her die. He’d have walked away, charmed the Queen, and not given that girl another thought. But... when she hit that floor... something in me snapped. It’s like my compass found true north—except this compass points straight down to the dungeons.
Damn it. What the hell is wrong with me?
Not enough seawater in my veins, maybe. I’m going soft. Too soft.
“All for a pretty face and a sweet smile, eh?” I mutter, running a hand through my hair and catching sight of myself in the long-standing mirror.
I step closer, searching my own reflection for some sign of weakness, something to explain this madness.
“You’re going soft, mate. This place is turning you into a right proper gentleman. ”
But Alice isn’t some swooning maiden waiting for a rescue, is she?
During that twisted game of the Queen’s, while everyone else was trembling, Alice was different.
Calculating. Those eyes never missed a damn trick, that mind of hers working like clockwork—and I’m damn sure she noticed what I did, the way those shadows shifted toward the Queen every time a head rolled.
There’s something about her—that defiant spark, the way she stood up to the Queen, and that strange flicker of magic in the air around her. What is that?
I have to think about it, about what I felt. Magic to me is like a beacon. I’m no pirate chasing X marks or buried treasure—I feel magic. It’s warm, delicate, like the glittering feel of starlight against my skin, and I feel that with Alice. I think, maybe...
God, listen to myself. My head’s gone to rot.
But then... the mirror. His words echo in my mind too, like a persistent hangover. “She’s the key.”
And if that’s true—if she really is the key to me finding the amulet—then I have to go and get her, don’t I? I need her. That’s why I’ll save her, because I need her to help me. And that’s the only reason for it.
I know the amulet isn’t here, either. I’m not sure where the Queen would’ve hidden it, but hidden it she has. No trace of Smee, no pulse of power, and if she had him, she and I would be playing a whole different game. Unless, of course, she’s playing with me, too.
I glance out the window, trying to shove down my racing thoughts. I could climb down, leave this place, and hunt for Smee and the amulet on my own. But...
No. I need to go down. I need to get to her.
I press my fists into my temples, clenching in frustration.
“What the hell...” I stop pacing, glancing out of the window again, taking in the moonlit gardens below.
All heart-shaped red roses, as bright as they come.
Guards patrol the grounds, their armour gleaming as they pass under the shadows cast by the Queen’s palace.
She’s not taking any chances tonight, though only two of us survived that game.
I wonder how many of her subjects she still has locked up?
I’d say the Queen doesn’t quite know what she’s dealing with.
But I do. And if that girl can’t lead me to the amulet, she’ll at least prove useful.
I step closer to the window, testing the latch.
Still unlocked. Either the Queen’s very confident or very foolish.
Likely both. Cool night air rushes in as I swing the window open, leaning out to study the stonework below—perfectly ridiculous with its overdone flourishes. Might as well be a ladder for me.
Well, hey-ho. Here we go.
With a quick glance around, I ease myself out, finding solid footing on one of the ornamental gargoyles.
The climb down is almost too easy; those dramatic bits of architecture practically beg for an escape.
I pause at each window, checking for guards, but all is quiet inside.
The earlier excitement has died down, leaving only the regular patrols.
Interesting.
Good, though. I can work around that. The guards stick to a schedule. With a bit of observation, it doesn’t take long to understand their timings.
When I reach the bottom, I press myself against the wall as two guards shuffle past, oblivious to my presence in the shadows.
Are they blind? Stupid? If I were the Queen, I’d have their heads rolling in the courtyard fountains for such plain incompetence.
I shouldn’t be able to slip through this palace so easily.
Imagine if I wanted to kill the Queen myself? Now that’s an interesting thought.
But I have other matters at hand.
I move along the edge, hidden in the darkness, stopping just behind two guards standing post, listening.
I could sneak up and slit one of their throats without a second thought, but the other would likely sound holy hell, and while I am the infamous Captain Hook, I’m not so lax as to think I could take on the entire Queen’s guard single-handed.
I inch back, pressing myself into some twisted rose vines snaking up the wall, waiting as the guards talk.
“What’s she doing back?” one grunts.
“Who knows, eh? Can’t mean anything good.”
“Bloody place has been crumblin’ for years. Fell apart the second she started meddlin’ where she shouldn’t. And then she went and—”
“Stop. Shut up. Talkin’ like that’ll get your tongue cut out. Or worse,” his mate hisses.
I cock an eyebrow, intrigued. Interesting. Oh, Alice, what did you do?
The guards finally lumber off, and I slip around the corner toward the service entrance, practically smirking as I see the pathetic excuse for a lock.
Really? A Queen so paranoid about power, yet she’s left her security this shoddy.
With a flick of my wrist and a bit of jiggery-pokery with a lockpick, the latch clicks open.
The door eases inward with barely a creak, revealing a narrow stone staircase, spiralling down into darkness.
Perfect. Well done, me.
The air grows colder as I descend, the walls pressing in tighter, the silence thick and watchful. Torches flicker in iron brackets, casting twisted shadows across the rough stone, their light just enough to guide my way. I move silently, keeping to the edges of the steps as I go deeper.
At the bottom of the stairs, I pause, pressing myself against the wall as muffled voices echo down the corridor—more guards, likely killing time.
They’re playing cards or something equally pointless.
Apparently, it’s amateur hour in the Queen’s domain.
I edge closer, the rough stone cool against my back, until I can make out their conversation—more idle prattle about why Alice is back.
“What’s the big deal, anyway?”
“Weird one, that Alice. Always was. Even when she was a kid, she came ‘ere causin’ trouble, stickin’ her nose in business that ain’t none of hers.”
“You were there then?”
“Yeah. Everyone was here then. When she beat the Queen. Should’a seen her face. I thought we was proper done for, but then... she left.”
Well, well, well. Our little ray of sunshine has a history here.
The voices fade as the guards move off, and I wait until their footsteps disappear before moving forward.
The cell block stretches out before me, dark, damp, and laced with the stench of mould and decay.
Iron doors line both sides with only faint torchlight casting shadows that slither across the floor like something alive.
Most of the cells are empty, but a few still hold prisoners, likely saved for more of the Queen’s games.
I don’t need them, though. I need... somewhere down here... The air is thick with Alice’s lingering magic, thrumming faintly at the edge of my awareness, strong enough to lead me through this maze.
With a steadying breath, I close my eyes, tuning into the faint pulse still simmering in my chest—a spark, dim and fading, but enough. And then, there it is—a soft hum, the lure of something alive, something almost feral. Alice. The glow comes from one of the cells farther down, potent as stardust.
I creep along the narrow path, peering into the cells as I go. One holds a figure curled on its side—a man, defeated and worn. A crumpled top hat lies beside him, alongside a tattered jacket in mismatched patchwork. Poor sod. I move along. More empty cells. Then... there she is.
I peer through the heart-shaped hole in the door.
She sits cross-legged on the floor, her back pressed to the wall, eyes closed.
The ball gown she still wears pools around her like dark water, a stark contrast against the grey of the stone.
Her mask is gone, and in the dim light, I finally see her face—a softness there, something genuine, unlike the Queen’s sharp, deadly beauty.
Somehow, she’s even more intriguing like this, her fierce defiance softened, but only a little.
She hasn’t noticed me, lost in her thoughts. I take a moment to study her, trying to grasp what it is that pulls me in. Is it her magic? That spark of rebellion? Or something else entirely?
“I know you’re there,” she says suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet, sharp and annoyed. She doesn’t open her eyes, but there’s no mistaking the irritation in her tone. “Come to gloat? Or maybe cheat again.”
I can’t help but smirk. “I didn’t cheat. I won.”
That makes her open her eyes, and damn me if she doesn’t stare right through the tiny gap in the door, piercing me to my core. “You cheated.” She enunciates both words. “That chair was mine.”
I shrug, knowing full well she can’t see me, but old habits die hard. “Potato, potahto. You’re alive, aren’t you?”
She narrows her eyes. “Are you here to gloat about that, too?”
“No. I’m here to rescue you.”
She stands in one fluid motion, stepping closer to the door. Her presence is magnetic, even with the iron barrier between us. “I don’t want your help, nor do I need it. Thank you very much.”
“Oh? You have a grand escape plan, do you? Do tell.”
She presses her face right into the gap, and I can almost hear the gears turning. “What do you want, Hook? Why risk life and limb to come down here and ‘save’ me?”
“Maybe I just wanted to help. Felt bad for winning.”
“Cheating.” She narrows her eyes further. “I don’t buy it for a second. What do you really want?”
I could feign some hurt, play the fool, but there’s no time. Footsteps echo down the hallway, growing louder. I glance around, spotting the empty cell next to hers. Slipping inside, I tear a piece of fabric from the bottom of my shirt and wedge it over the latch so it won’t lock properly.
We both go quiet as the guards pass by, their boots heavy against the stone, voices low as they chatter about some nonsense I couldn’t care less about. The moment they’re out of earshot, I open my cell door and return to hers.
I pull a thin piece of metal from my pocket and start working on her lock. “Time to go, love.”
The lock clicks open with beautiful efficiency. I swing the door wide and offer her my hand. “Your carriage awaits, my Lady.”
She backs away, eyes narrowing. “And why should I trust you?”
“Because right now, darling, I’m your only option.”
More footsteps thunder down the corridor. Bloody hell, these guards are persistent tonight. Without waiting for her permission, I slip into her cell, pulling the door nearly closed behind me.
The cell is unbelievably cramped, the walls within arm’s reach if I stand in the middle. “What are you doing?” Alice hisses.
I press a finger to my lips, backing us both into the shadows. The cell feels even smaller with both of us inside, her warmth radiating against my chest. “Saving both our skins. Unless you’d like to explain to the guards why I’m here?”
She glares at me but stays quiet as the guards pass. I’m acutely aware of every breath she takes, every slight movement. Bloody hell, this was not part of the plan.