Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ryker
“Why are you helping us, Samael?” I asked as I trailed him up the steps.
Instead of responding, he held out a hand to halt my movements as he paused at the top of the stairs and poked his head out the door. He studied the hall beyond before jerking his head to the side and exiting the stairwell.
I glanced back at Lawrence and Callan; they were starting to fade under the weight of the man they carried. Tears still streaked his face, but he’d finally stopped sobbing.
I followed Samael out of the stairway and froze when I spotted the dead soldier slumped against the wall. The man’s head sat in his lap. The rest of the hall, lit by the torches in their golden sconces, was empty.
“Your handiwork?” I asked Samael.
“You enjoy being free, don’t you?”
“Does this mean you’re switching sides?” Tucker asked.
Samael stopped outside the door and rested his hand on the knob. He turned back to look at us. “I’ve only ever been on my side.”
Those words were the most honest I’d heard in a while.
“At least you’re honest,” I replied.
Samael smiled before disappearing through the door. Ready to destroy anything that lay beyond, I followed him into a room.
Lifting my hand, I cast my lightning higher as Tucker closed the door behind him, shutting out the hallway. I recognized the room; I’d been in it before.
They stored the extra chain mail and suits of armor in here. Now, my lightning danced across the shiny surfaces to create a cascade of golden reflections around the room.
“Bring weepy this way,” Samael said as he strode toward a door in the back of the room.
As Callan and Lawrence carried him forward, I kept my senses attuned to our surroundings, searching for any hint of sound or some hidden presence amid the armor.
Tucker’s head swiveled as he searched the room. I kept my gaze on Samael’s back; I didn’t dare take my eyes off him.
Samael opened the door to reveal a small closet beyond. Rags and other assorted cleaning supplies crowded the shelves. At the bottom, a dented, damaged chain mail tangle cluttered the floor under a shelf.
Samael knelt and pushed the armor aside. The metal clinked and clattered as he revealed a small alcove tucked into the wall.
“This was my favorite spot to shelter when we played hide-and-seek,” Samael said.
“Is this where you went when I could never find you?” I asked.
There was a time, when we were children, the duke would visit Leo. Samael and I would entertain ourselves by playing games and running throughout the palace while they spoke.
We’d pretend to be brave knights, lost princes, dragon hunters, and sometimes dragons.
Since Samael resided in the palace with his father, Samay, the head of Ivan’s personal guard, he knew the best spots to hide from me.
There were times when I couldn’t find him; I’d return to the main hall and wait for him to emerge.
“It was also a good place to hide when my father was looking for me to do my chores,” Samael said. “I’d bring a book and a candle and stay in here for hours. I far preferred it to shining metal. Sometimes, I’d fall asleep in there.”
The memory of Samael as a child was a jarring contrast to the man I’d come to know. It was difficult to assimilate them.
“We’ll move the mail over him, and no one will know he’s here,” Samael said.
“It won’t get any better than this,” I said to the others.
“You can’t leave me here,” the sobbing man whimpered.
“We can’t keep dragging you with us,” I retorted. “You won’t be here forever, and this place is far safer for you than the dungeons.”
“Nobody ever looks here,” Samael said. “This armor has been here for years. They were supposed to refurbish it, but it’s been forgotten.”
“What about food and water?” the man inquired.
“You just ate. That will have to do.”
My skin prickled at the sharpness of Samael’s words, but I agreed with them. I wouldn’t want to stay behind, but I wouldn’t be a weeping mess either. Not since my early years had I cried at the crack of a whip.
It was probably this man’s first time being tortured, but it was also Lawrence’s and Callan’s as well, and neither of them had turned into incoherent messes.
Not only that, but Lawrence’s back didn’t look much better than this man’s, yet he walked on his own.
Weakness wasn’t something I tolerated well.
“It won’t be forever,” I told him again.
I didn’t promise we’d come back for him; we might not survive the next hour, but he wouldn’t be here forever… either someone would find him, we’d return, or he’d leave in search of food and water. No matter what happened, he wouldn’t die here.
“You could take me with you,” he blubbered. “You’ve gotten me this far.”
“We have gotten you this far, and we won’t take you any further. I won’t die for a man who won’t defend himself,” I told him. “You can either hide here, or we’ll leave you behind.”
Tucker raised an eyebrow, and I could almost hear him thinking “diplomacy.” I didn’t have time for diplomacy, and I certainly didn’t have time for this man’s shit.
Samael huffed out a laugh as he crossed his arms over his chest. When I shot him a look, he quieted.
“I could scream,” the man threatened. “And then you won’t get away either.”