Chapter 34 – Isolde
ISOLDE
Suspended faelights illuminated a hallway that stretched on endlessly. To my left, the scent of soap wafted into the corridor. Weak food smells—meats, roasted vegetables, and bread teased my nose from further away.
“In here.” Yrsa opened the first door on the left.
We slipped inside, found a vast room crowded with empty vats and baskets overflowing with fabrics of all types. The castle’s laundry.
“The servants that have the most leeway with where they go in the castle wear dark purple tunics with a white lion on their breasts and black pants. Find something that works. And make sure there are wing slits because we might need to use them.”
It didn’t take long for most of us to find appropriate clothing.
Vale, however, was the exception. He easily found pants that worked, even if they were a little tight, but like Luccan and Arie, Vale had inherited Lord Riis’s wide and strong chest. He was also very tall and more muscular than most fae.
Certainly more so than the average servant.
“What about this?” Astril pulled something from the depths of a basket and held up a deep purple tunic large enough to fit three of me. It might suit a troll, but it was too long for Vale. “Tuck it in and then pull it out a bit to the right length?”
Yrsa assessed the item. “That might be our best bet. Try it, Vale.”
My mate stripped off his shirt, giving everyone a peek at his tattooed chest and the daggers hanging off each hip. Swords would have been too obvious, so we’d left Skelda and Sassa’s Blade in Myrr.
Vale pulled the tunic on, and it billowed around him comically before he tucked the ends into his waistband. Going to him, I eased the tunic out, flattening the material best I could while leaving the ends tucked in to make it look like it was the appropriate length.
“I’m sorry that we’re missing your official dinner, Force.”
“This is far more important.”
He kissed me on the forehead.
“Good enough. Isolde, grab that basket of clean clothing.” Yrsa pointed to a basket filled with laundry folded inside as she hefted one of her own.
“Stuff the cloaks at the bottom of these baskets so we have them nearby if we need them later. If you haven’t already, now is the time to slip the daggers into your boot sheaths. ”
I did as Yrsa commanded and hefted a basket filled with linens. The fresh scent stuffed its way up my nose as I crossed to the door. We hid the cloaks beneath the clean laundry, and positioned our weapons before slipping back into the corridor.
“You’re sure you know the way?” My stomach felt like it was full of frostflies, despite making it this far and having acquired the proper disguises. All that was left was to find the queen and leave, hopefully as quietly as we’d arrived.
My optimistic heart told me it was possible. Experience disagreed.
“I used to date a nymph who lived here. A sleigh driver,” Yrsa said.
“He showed me around the servants’ quarters and above, when the high lady was not around, of course.
Once, I saw a deranged criminal being brought in.
You could hear him kicking and screaming through the halls.
Later, I asked what they did with him and when I learned he’d been taken to solitary, I wanted to see the dungeons.
My boyfriend thought I was crazy, but you never know when being familiar with the innards of a castle would come in handy. ”
Stars, did I know. The night we’d fled Avaldenn, my knowledge of the hidden parts of Frostveil had been the only thing to save me, and probably Vale too, from a vampire’s fangs.
Yrsa’s continued confidence eased my nerves, and we fell in line behind her down the corridor, pausing only when Qildor spied a partially open closet and extracted a broom, another prop.
Reaching the T at the end without incident, Yrsa peeked around the corner and gave the all-clear signal, and we continued down a shorter hallway that ended in a stairwell. She paused there, turned.
“We won’t be too far from the grand hall.”
Where Lady Ithamai was said to be hosting a gathering to honor the king and prince. She’d invited many of the lesser nobles and wealthy merchants in the city. Or so Geiravor’s connections around Grindavik had claimed.
“Don’t look about while we walk.” Yrsa inhaled deeply, as if to prepare herself for putting on a show. “You work here. This is normal.”
“Ah yes, we rescue queens from dungeons daily,” Qildor muttered.
Up the steps we went, and upon exiting on the next floor.
We allowed a few paces between each of us, as though we were five servants going the same way, but not together.
As we walked, I performed a casual sweep of the area, trying to get my bearings.
Even if I hadn’t already known whose castle I was in, I’d have guessed the ladies of House Ithamai lived here.
Seated lions carrying scales of justice on their backs line the hallways.
Compared to other castles I’d been in, there were few paintings and tapestries.
Lady Ithamai appeared to be a minimalist, and when I thought back to the few times that I’d seen the Warden of the East, she’d always dressed in her house colors, with perhaps a lion to honor her house, but few other embellishments.
I turned a corner and scowled as Hadia and Adila Ithamai, the two blonde heiresses to the great house, came into view, strutting our way, dressed in gowns of deep purple.
Adila’s face was pinched with annoyance. “Why do you think I don’t have a chance with Prince Rhistel?”
“Because I’m trying to woo him!” Hadia replied as though that were all too obvious. “Mother is well in the king’s good graces. This is the perfect time to plant the idea of uniting our houses.”
“You’re engaged to Luccan Riis.” Adila spat out my friend’s name like it was a bad word.
“The king won’t make me wed him any longer. His father is a traitor, and our house is loyal to the Crown of Winter.” Hadia gave a dismissive wave of her hand.
Yrsa had passed the sisters. Qildor was next, then me.
Although my instinct told me to look down, I found myself captivated by their conversation.
They’d always been horrible to me, going as far as to chase and threaten me one night, but in that moment they merely sounded like sisters.
Or perhaps I was just shocked that someone would even want to marry Rhistel.
“And besides,” Hadia continued, “everyone knows the prince likes his females with more meat on their bones.” As if to drive the point home, she did a little shimmy and her large breasts jiggled.
“Oh?” Adila did not seem amused. “Does he plan to eat you and all that meat?”
“I should hope so. Imagine having a husband who did not like to feast?!”
Caught off guard, I nearly snorted in laughter. I stopped myself just in time, but not all the way and the oddest sound came out. Like a sneeze mixed with a yawn. The sisters, three paces away, shifted their gazes to lock on me.
Adila narrowed her eyes. “What’s so funny?”
“I could not help but overhear.” I did my best to modulate my voice and bowed as best I could with the heavy basket in hand.
The act felt all wrong. I was no longer scared of these two, and I desperately wanted to show them who I was and how strong I’d become.
But now was not the time. “Apologies, my ladies.”
“You shouldn’t be listening in on your betters’ conversations.”
Did they not expect others to hear them when they spoke so plainly in the open? Of course I didn’t say that, just ducked my head and shifted the weight of the laundry basket.
“Away with you,” Hadia commanded.
I scurried by and, as soon as they could no longer see me, released an incredulous snort. Yrsa led us down another long corridor, this one narrow and with no other high fae in the area.
She stopped and waited for us to catch up. The moment we did, she nodded down the hall. “There are steps twenty paces further on the right. They lead to the dungeons, so this is where we stash the props and prepare.”
“Will the other team use this entry?” Vale asked, and I was certain his mind was whirring with strategy. Possibilities. Issues that may arise.
“No. The dungeons are vast. There are two other entrances known to most castle workers and one that is a secret.”
“How do you know about it then?”
“The same boyfriend. The one the public doesn’t know about travels below the castle by waterway. It’s closest to the section of the dungeon where they’ll keep the queen, and guaranteed to be clear of guards, but I’d rather avoid it if we can. Dangerous creatures live in there.”
“You know all this from courting someone in the castle?” I asked.
“I can be very persuasive,” Yrsa grinned, and in that moment, she looked so like Thantrel that I did not doubt her powers of persuasion for a second.
We stashed our props into two nearby rooms that were mercifully empty. At the door leading to the stairwell, Yrsa performed her magic with her lock picks, and the door squealed open.
Down the pitch-black stone stairwell we went. The faelights in my pocket called to me, but I refrained from pulling one out. Darkness was our ally, and it took only about ten seconds for my vision to adjust enough that the darkness did not feel quite so oppressive.
A full minute passed before I caught new sounds. Snores first. Then soft moans. I swallowed. How many prisoners were awake? And if they saw us, would they say anything?
“I will silence any threat,” Astril said, as if she’d been reading my mind.
“If the queen is where I think she is, we won’t have to pass by too many inhabited cells,” Yrsa said. “But guards are down here too, and it only takes one to sound an alarm.”
We descended further, and I was about to ask when the steps would end and how far below the main levels of the castle we were, when a light from below caught my eye. A damp, disgusting scent followed. That of waste and mold.
“Closing in,” Vale whispered. “Prepare your weapons.”
Daggers appeared from boots. As we took the last few steps downward, I held my breath. Waiting. Listening.
The bottommost portion of the first two cells materialized, as did a rotund guard.
He lumbered our way, muttering to himself, not having heard or seen us yet.
He seemed to be returning to his post, a rickety stool propped by the steps, after disciplining a prisoner.
Or that was what I gathered by the blood dripping off the bludgeon he carried.
“I have this,” Qildor and Vale whispered in unison, but not before Astril shot forward, so fast the guard didn’t see her coming until she was right in front of him.
A strike to the head, and he slumped. Astril caught him and thank the stars the prisoners in the first two cells were asleep. The cover of darkness was one reason we’d delayed our mission for hours, but another reason was that fewer prisoners would be awake to witness us extracting the queen.
Astril dragged him back to the stool and positioned the guard so that he was leaning against the wall, appearing to have fallen asleep on the job.
“Potion?” Qildor asked. We possessed many more vials of the brew than we’d used outside. The concoction would keep someone asleep for hours.
“Yes,” Vale said, and Qildor pulled a vial from his pocket to administer the potion. “As much as I’d like to think we’ll be in and out quickly, I’m not counting on it.”
“What about keys?” I asked.
“Here.” Yrsa held up a keyring. I hadn’t even seen her lift it from the guard.
“Lead the way.” My husband flourished a hand in the direction of the darkness.
Yrsa took the right fork, barreling down the dank passage lit by faelights that flickered as though they might go out at any second.
The idea struck me as cruel. No natural light made its way down here, and to lose even one faelight would plunge the closest cells into darkness. How terrifying that would be.
We hit a sharp left turn at the edge of the dungeon, I presumed.
Yrsa twisted. “We’re going to pass a few more cells, then duck into the isolation wing. I think she’ll be there.”
We careened through the passageway, rushing by cells filled with sleeping fae until a hiss sent a shiver down my spine. I whirled towards the sound and found, of all fae races, a leprechaun. Dirty-faced, disheveled, and wide awake, the fae stared at us.
“You shouldn’t be here.” His voice grated against my ear, raspy from disuse.
“And why are you?” Vale asked. “I’ve never seen an imprisoned leprechaun.”
“The high lady locked me up. But I bet she’d let me out if I called the guards. My debts, my misdeeds, are nothing to what you plan to do.” He arched knowing eyebrows.
He didn’t know who we were; the glamours were too good for that. But we were heading in the direction of the queen’s cell, so it didn’t take a genius to guess our motives.
“Or you can hold your tongue, and we’ll let you live.” Yrsa dangled the keys.
“Get me out and to safety, and I won’t squeal.”
“Deal, but we get what we came for first.”
There was the possibility that once any cell door opened, a guard above would be alerted. We could not waste that chance on this leprechaun.
He nodded, hinting what we had guessed might very well be true. I wondered how many fae tried to escape this place and how far they got before they were captured to give a random prisoner this idea.
“We’ll mark you.” Yrsa turned to Vale. “Pull that faelight here?”
With a flick of his wrist, my mate called air, and one of the suspended faelights drifted our way. As it was one of the only ones nearby, it would be an obvious marker.
“Any tips on how to get her out?” I asked.
The leprechaun snorted. “I’d expect your task to be difficult.”
“Thanks for nothing,” Astril muttered, and we continued on until we turned into the corridor that housed the isolation area.
This section of the dungeon was even more poorly lit, with only one faelight every fifty or so paces. As we walked, I listened, desperate to hear those of South Star approach. Were they close? Or in trouble?
That question left my mind as, about thirty empty cells deep into the isolation corridor, we came across Queen Inga, staring out of the darkness.