XLV | DRAGONS MAW
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But she didn't care; if she was questioned, she'd brush it off. As Mey, she had no authority. As Elas, she didn't have much more, but it was better than nothing. And worst case scenario, she could hide behind Oriel's image.
Oriel hadn't even bothered to disguise her in the royal guard's attire. Instead, she was wearing a baggy red cotton shirt, with loose-fitting black pants and various golden trinkets.
She looked like a scholar, especially with the golden thick-rimmed glasses resting on the bridge of her nose.
She'd never worn glasses before, and it wasn't easy adapting to them.
She had to stop every few seconds and readjust them, and she was sure her fast-paced journey wasn't helping them stay on.
Celvene neared the iron doors leading to the jail, and the man she assumed was the prison warden was standing outside with two small swords resting on his hips.
He was wearing a black sleeveless jumpsuit that fit every crook of his muscular body, but not much more. If he was caught off guard, his attacker would have the advantage—they could simply stab him. Maybe he had iron plating beneath his jumpsuit.
His dark tan skin contrasted his light blond hair, which cascaded around his broad shoulders like waterfalls.
Two braids framed his angular face, and came to a rest around the wavy tattoos crawling up his arms. His gaze slowly dragged up until it came to a rest on Celvene, and his eyes were a pale green. He was unnerving, if anything.
"What?" he said, voice gruff.
Celvene cleared her throat, channeling her inner circus performer as she said, "I-I'm sorry. My mentor, Scholar Veylor, was summoned here, but they're busy at the moment, so they sent me in their stead. I hope that's okay."
From what little she remembered of her conversation with Elas, that was as close as she'd get to nailing his personality. She doubted this guy knew the boy anyways.
"You," he said.
"Uh... me?"
"You're their pupil?"
Celvene narrowed her eyes, though she kept her voice light. "Do I look like a warrior?"
"Guess not." He rested his hands on his swords, pulling himself to his full height, and he towered over Celvene. She made a mental note not to get snippy again.
"My name is Elas," she offered. She needed to get in there, and she needed an opening in the conversation to convince the guard to open the door.
The guard's nose crinkled, and all he did was stare at Celvene.
She had to resist the urge to squirm under his intense glare.
She suspected he'd get a laugh out of seeing her uncomfortable.
"Nero," the guard said after a moment before swinging the prison door open. He didn't wait for Celvene to catch it as she scampered after him, and she was stuck grabbing the door and struggling against the weight before opening it enough to squeeze inside.
"What's a thing like you doing here? Don't you think it's dangerous?" Nero asked. A flame jumped to life in his lantern, and the rickety stairs were bathed in a low glow.
"I didn't have much of a choice. Oriel isn't flexible once they've made up their mind.
If I didn't want to reorganize their books in alphabetical order, I had to come down here.
I wouldn't have minded that on its own, but I know that transcribing ancient texts comes next, and that's quite a headache. "
"Sounds about right," Nero said, heavy footsteps creaking against the stairs. For a moment, Celvene was scared they'd collapse under his weight.
"You know Oriel?"
"More or less. We've interacted a handful of times.
I don't think they appreciate my area of expertise, and I'm glad the feeling is mutual.
At least I'm doing something for the castle.
All they're doing is sitting in a room and reading books all day," Nero said, and the disgust in his voice was palpable. A beat later, he said, "No offense."
"None taken. I'd rather be reading than doing what Oriel was called here for."
Nero chuckled. "And I'd rather be at home with an ale in hand, but," he shrugged, "money calls. It's enjoyable enough, at least."
Celvene didn't respond. What a bizarre sentiment. She'd understand it if he worked a merchant stall or cleaned the floors of the castle, but guarding a prison?
"You're responsible for interrogating the prisoners," Nero continued.
"Me?"
"You enjoy saying that word, don't you? Who else would I be talking to? I don't tend to make conversation with the rodents down here." Nero stopped at the bottom of the stairs and slid a key into the next door.
As Celvene followed him inside and looked around the dark room, she shivered and tried to shrug off the vivid memories that spotted her vision everywhere she looked. Would she have to escape again? And if she did, would it be bloodless this time?
"Don't you have someone qualified for that?" she asked.
She didn't have much interest in the other prisoners; perhaps they'd have information about Noriya itself and their plans, but if they managed to get caught, she couldn't imagine they were high enough in Noriya's chain of authority that they'd have any valuable information about Zelphar, or even Aleksandr.
And what if they're vampires? I don't want to get too close.
"Used to, but she was fired. Aleksandr said she was too 'distasteful' with her methods, but she got the prisoners to talk. I'm not sure why he cared how violent she got anyways, knowing him."
What does he mean by that?
She opened her mouth to question it, but shut it upon another moment of thought. She couldn't risk compromising her position, and a random scholar-turned-guard wouldn't have any good reason to be curious about the castle's hierarchy.
"What do you want me to do? Am I getting information from them?" she asked instead.
"You're a natural. Didn't even need to tell you what to do," Nero said, a sliver of a grin on his face.
Celvene mirrored the grin, though her smile felt forced.
She tried to relax it around the edges, to no avail.
"All you need to do is try to force any vital information out of them, whether about the war, economy, or anything else.
Oriel manages to do it without hurting 'em.
Don't know if you'll be able to do the same, but I'd rather not have to clean up any blood, so keep it clean if you can't."
"And what if I decide Oriel themselves needs to talk to the prisoner? Do I need permission from... Aleksandr? Or you?"
"You'd know whether or not they're important enough to be taken to Oriel. You can get me and I'll open the cell without questions. And someone like you would get eaten up by Aleksandr. Don't bother."
"Don't you think he's... I don't know, brutish? Virion wasn't a violent king. It feels disrespectful to swivel on the heel and turn Aizasea into such a violent place. From a king that believes in resolving the war to a king that believes violence is the answer."
She had no idea if she was about to get beaten into the ground for besmirching Aleksandr like this, but she needed a way to assemble the royal guard.
If she did confront Aleksandr at the ball, while she didn't technically need the guards to be there to protect her, she needed the security of not having the guards on her the moment she showed up—again.
And if she didn't, well... Aleksandr would try to kill her in a private room if she exposed his plans. She needed allies. Besides, it wasn't like Nero could kill her—probably, as Oriel would know exactly who it was—and the real Elas seemed to be getting as far away from the city as he could.
"Aleksandr isn't king, Elas, as much as he'd like to think otherwise. That little lady that the sword chose was supposed to be. Celery or whatever her name is."
Celery? Celvene thought, scoffing under her breath.
"Celvene? I've met her before," she said.
"Heard she escaped from the prison. Or, rather, she escaped while being taken to the prison.
On my one day off, too. You know, the guy they put in my place that day sounded like he was.
.." He trailed off as his gaze fell on Celvene, as if he realized he was speaking about "her.
" He cleared his throat. "Must be one godsend of a fighter to be able to fight off that many men, unless she sweet talked her way out of it," finished Nero, opening the next door.
"Prisoners are in the next room. I'll leave you to them. "
"Wait," she said, and Nero paused in his tracks. She had to think carefully of what she said—whatever it was, it would reflect back on Elas, and she didn't want him to risk facing any trouble. "Are you opposed to Aleksandr's rule?"
"I don't care much for the politics of the castle.
I just guard the door. But if the Cilantro girl is able to find me, I'd consider helping her out, assuming she's still in the city.
I'd rather her than Aleksandr, seeing what little he's done for the kingdom so far.
And that girl's got to be something special to have escaped two prisons in a matter of a night. "
Or damn lucky.
"Interesting," Celvene muttered under her breath, walking into the next room. Nero had stopped by the door to light the candles hanging on the walls, face close to the stone wall. Celvene spared him a glance before brushing past him.
As she walked past Nero, he clapped her on the back, and she was forced to exhale as her glasses almost fell off her nose. She grabbed them and looked up at Nero, who winked.
"Have fun, Elas. I won't be upset if I hear some screams."
He shut the door and she was plunged into a dank, dark room, with the flicker of flames from the walls to provide her with light. She passed three prisoners, two huddled in the corner of their cells, though one sat at the bars and leered at Celvene.
Celvene stepped back as he spit at her, snarling, "Outsider scum. You a harbinger, too?"
Real clever. An insult because she looked like she wasn't from the kingdom, given her eye color, and a traditional Aizasea insult tacked on at the end. She still wasn't sure the meaning of it, but she knew there were negative connotations.
Celvene rolled her eyes, proceeding to the next cell. And she stopped in her tracks, as did her heart, as she spotted the quivering form of Melantha, leaning against the wall.
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