Chapter 32
thirty-two
I’d like to say I didn’t cry into my knees for a few hours before I fled from the cell… but that would be a lie. I switched between weeping and seething, and decided that carving my name into his skin—his real skin—would heal all that ails me.
That dried my tears and swept me out the door.
But I denied, even to myself, the pit that formed when I thought about what his father’s words—and my desire for it to be false.
I found the adjoining cells empty, which brought simultaneous relief and fear. Did they really slaughter the prisoners? I didn’t want to think about that for more than a few heartbeats. And as I crept forward through the darkness, I found more empty cells, each as quiet as the last.
But near the prison’s exit, came the loud clanking of a soldier, and I slid behind the depths of a pillar. A close call.
If Aelen were here, he would have covered me with his shadows. But he wasn’t here, and I was alone. So I held my breath until the creaking metal suit passed, paused, and returned to the dungeon’s entrance. By the time I released my air, the vision had fled from the corners of my eyes.
The prisoners may have been gone, but the guards were not.
Once I was certain he turned the corner and ascended the stairs, I cursed under my breath and headed the other direction.
I shook away the unease and fled until I made it to the far window. Moonlight dripped through it, painting a long pale mirror along the floor.
I ran through my limited options, inspecting the frame. There were divots where bars had once been, but only a single rusted rail remained. This section of the dungeons had been cut through the Underquarter, with a clear view of the stairs and a few of the ramshackle towers.
The empty street only bore piked, decapitated heads. The ones at the bridge were a message to me, but these were a message to the Underquartersman: keep quiet, stay in line, and remain here.
No amount of severed heads could dissuade me, but the distance might. Falling would be disastrous. Perhaps I wouldn’t die, but I’d break an ankle or a leg. Enough to end my quest before I’d made it past the prison.
But I had no choice, so I crawled through the small hole and began to descend.
My foot found the poorly fitting bricks.
The stones were loose and crumbled beneath my weight, yet I pressed downward for the stretched tarp—some cloth the merchants used for shade, but in the wan light, the red turned a bloody crimson.
Do any sellers remain? I brushed away the horror that pitted in my stomach and continued down the bricks.
The quiet that hung over the Underquarter crept across me to raise my hair to a stand.
I’d snuck here more nights than I could count, yet it had never been this silent.
Now it only boasted a breeze that froze my breath.
My fingers grappled for the next brick down, but a clatter rang out across the street.
My heart increased, and my limbs froze, making me miss my precarious perch and slip. I grappled for a handhold, but too late. Once my fingers separated from the wall, I couldn’t stop my descent.
The air swept across my body, but before I registered it, I slammed into the stretched cloth. My world became a mess of fabric, tearing, and the screams that ripped from my lungs.
The ground came just as fast, pressing into me painfully. With my heart thundering, I tried to orient myself, but I found nothing but aches and a spinning street.
But the clanking came again—louder. More. An army of metal footsteps approached.
I fought the dizziness and pulled myself to an uneasy stand, taking off.
The guards were close on my heels, their clangor closing in. I weaved through the winding road, swirling past the vacant stalls until I came to a crossing.
But when I tried to enter the first alley, all I found were rotting, nailed boards.
My breath hitched. I hesitated for a second longer than I could afford. With my only hope of hiding gone, I took off again, keeping beneath the cloak of the rickety rafters. They slowed my approach but cloaked me in darkness until I came to Ova’s crossing.
The horrid armor glittered in the moonlight, chugging ever closer. I pressed myself to the closest wall—the dilapidated Gelded Eye.
I tingled the knob as silently as I could, but the drunken laughter and flickering candlelight were absent. Abandoned, like every other building, with the door locked.
As the guards’ gilded helmets came into view, with all hope gone, the door shuttered open, and a forceful hand yanked me in.
My first thought was, Who’s come to kill me? My subsequent and more powerful one: How are you still alive?
Tennith stared at me with dark bags, wide eyes, and a sinister frown. He’d let his stubble grow into a partial beard, matching the messy, knotted braid. Flyaway locks framed his fuming eyes, and the stiletto he pressed into my throat—already so deep I thought a single word might draw blood.
But he said nothing until the guard’s racket quieted in the distance.
“Lorelana, it’s been a while.”
I sucked in a breath and choose my words carefully. “I don’t remember ever being in such a friendly position before. I thought knifepoint was reserved for close friends.”
He cocked a brow but didn’t lower his weapon. His eyes searched me for something, but I wasn’t sure what he sought. A pity. For when someone had a dagger pressed to my throat, I’d give just about anything.
Quietly, he yanked me to his chest with his blade drawing a few drops. Enough that I didn’t fight as he led me further into the tavern. We marched past the bar into a large open room lit by low candles, with every window covered.
The tavern was heavy with hot breath and glaring eyes. More people than I expected and more faces I recognized. A bartender, a handful of laborers, and a man who’d seen me lashed before all this began. Numerous people I’d been friendly with and now all stared at me as if I were nothing but refuse.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have our leverage.”
“I’m not—”
The dirk pressed further into my throat, wetting my collar. I sealed my lips.
“I say we kill her,” the barkeep said, sharpening small pieces of wood that I suspected were once cutlery. Now they were rapidly turning into makeshift shivs.
Tennith’s arm tightened around my neck. “If I kill her, how would we get the guards to do a goddamn thing?”
A woman approached, inspecting me. Her thick, dark hair hung around her gaunt face in greasy strands. “She left us to suffer and die.” Her voice rose with every word. “They tore our homes apart searching!”
The barkeep stood and shushed her with a finger, but she slapped his hand away and stomped toward me. Her eyes never left mine, nor did the seething behind them. Before I sucked in another breath, her hand cracked across my face. “Bitch,” she hissed.
I struggled against my captor, but said nothing. From her pallid skin and the bodies lining the streets, they’d been through hell. But the more I stared, it finally hit me like a bale of bricks. She was Arlein.
I hadn’t recognized her with the jutting cheekbones.
She’d always been small, thin even—but not this shell of a person.
She’d sold knick-knacks, and whatever she could get her hands on in the Underquarter.
Arlein had a younger sister, too. My gut tightened at the memory of her, and that she was nowhere to be found among the crowd of gaunt faces.
Tennith’s arm tightened so much my vision turned ivory and briefly disappeared. I gasped for air and slumped while they argued. The voices began to drift around the room as if they were miles away. Then I finally stopped fighting.
The arm released, and I slumped to the floor while the distant people continued their disagreement. It went through bits of being heated, but every time voices raised, they were shushed, and subsequently lowered.
“She is our most valuable asset. I don’t know why you can’t see that.”
“Because of her, they burned my husband alive!” That must have been Arlein. “They made me watch, and told me if I didn’t tell them where she was, they’d do the same to me.”
Why didn’t they know I’d jumped? The king’s guard watched me.
Then the memories of the king’s guard’s heads on pikes returned with a vengeance. They were all long dead.
Tennith stepped over me, his boots kicking against my side. “I swear to you, whatever they have planned for her is a far more foul end.”
A male voice rang out. None I recognized. “They will tear our quarter apart again looking for her if they hear even a whisper of her presence.”
“Then we will say nothing, and sort out how she benefits us. But as of right now, she’s our only power.”
“Fine! Keep the useless bitch, then. See what happens. You’ll be dead before next week’s sun.”
Reality returned with biting viciousness, but I was too fearful to crack my eyes.
“Don’t worry too much. If she provides us with nothing, we’ll kill her, and I’ll let you do it.”
I could have lied to myself as I lay on the floor, and pretended it was the ever-expanding cold that chilled me, but it wasn’t. It was the brutal words marking my end.