Chapter 32
T he sounds of battle faded as I hurried toward the wing of the castle that housed Rasimir’s study. There were probably other ways to reach the dungeon, not to mention closer ones.
Then again, perhaps not. Rasimir housed his stable of powers there, and he’d hunted the witches to the edge of extinction. He was probably careful to limit access to his “menu.”
A sparkly new wave of hate surged through me, and I clung to it so I wouldn’t think about Mama. Later, I could fall apart. Right now, I had to reach Lorcan and Vander.
The gauntlets dragged at my shoulders, which ached like I’d carried a water yoke from Derryton to Sausberg. I shoved away the pain, too, all of my energy focused on reaching Rasimir’s study. The corridors were empty, and I could only assume the knights had rushed to the battle.
If the werewolves ever stopped trying to kill me, I’d have to thank them.
A wave of despair washed over me. The antechamber outside Rasimir’s study loomed ahead.
Don’t tell him your name.
My scalp prickled, and my stomach clenched around a knot of fear. The antechamber’s doorway was unguarded, the interior pitch-black.
Slowing, I clenched my jaw against another wave of despair.
A hollow sound filled my head. It was the absence of noise.
The thump of my heart in a long, empty tunnel.
The cloying awareness that someone stood just behind me when I thought I was alone.
The monster that clawed at my ankles when I let a foot slip over the edge of my bed.
Fear . It was raw, undiluted fear.
“It won’t work,” I said, stepping into the octagon-shaped antechamber. “I’m not scared of you. I’ve already seen enough terrifying shit in this castle to last several lifetimes.”
Despair swirled around me, bringing a tirade of terrible thoughts. Lorcan was probably already dead. Vander was gone. The mournful parade continued, the waves of sorrow growing thicker. Mama was dead. Vander was dead. Lorcan was dead. Everyone I loved was dead. All dead.
And I was alone in the dark.
Maybe I’d never find a way to remove the gauntlets. I’d be stuck forever. Rasimir was going to find me and slap the metal over my mouth again. I’d waste away, and soon I’d be dead.
Dead.
Dead.
Dead.
Dead.
My gasp echoed around the antechamber. Spinning in place, I raised my voice. “Barothrok, I know you’re in here! I’ll make you a deal.”
The despair pulled back. Maybe it was just my imagination, but it seemed to bend, as if it listened.
“Let me pass, and I’ll free you,” I said. “I’m going to kill Rasimir, and I’ll make sure you leave this place. No more squeezing into rooms that are too small for you. No more waiting around for someone to feed you. You’ll see your home again. Isn’t that what you want? To go home?”
The despair waited, as if it weighed my words. I held my breath. If Barothrok ate me—
No. I wasn’t going to think about that.
The despair rolled back. A narrow strip of light ran from the corridor to one of the black doors.
“Thanks,” I said, running forward. “I won’t forget it.”
Bursting through the door, I hurried across Rasimir’s study, only belatedly realizing I probably should have eased my way in. But no one jumped from the shadows or sprinted from the upper story as I rushed to the bookshelf in the back of the room.
Rows of books filled the shelves, the spines gleaming with gold lettering. Some were in the Common Tongue. Others were written in symbols and foreign languages I had no hope of reading. But it didn’t matter, because I had no clue which book opened the bookcase.
My root word was mirror . Aside from that, I possessed no other magic. Also, my hands were covered in metal mittens. How the fuck was I supposed to get downstairs?
Just as I considered swinging one of my gauntlets at the books, a swell of light made me spin.
Hobflies raced toward me. Sucking in a breath, I stumbled against the bookcases as hundreds of tiny, shimmering lights clustered into a bright ball and hovered in front of a book.
“I’ll free your queen,” I told the ball, relief and gratitude tightening my chest. “And I’ll free you just as soon as this is over.” The glowing orb eased back, and I pulled the book’s spine and stepped into the opening behind the bookcase.
The hobflies followed, lighting the way as I raced down the spiral staircase. Should have grabbed a weapon. Rasimir probably kept a few in his study. The next time I undertook a daring rescue, I was going to plan it out ahead of time.
The staircase ended, and I stepped into the stone corridor with its black double doors.
Shoulders throbbing, I raced forward and stopped, my gaze falling to the handles.
I couldn’t open the door. Throwing my shoulder against it, I pushed hard.
The hobflies separated behind me, their lights casting tiny round shadows on the metal.
Sweat beaded my brow. My boots scuffed on the stone as I pushed and pushed and got nowhere.
Footsteps sounded on the other side. Jumping backward, I glanced around for a place to hide.
The door opened, and a knight looked me up and down. “What do you think you’re doing?” Looking over his shoulder, he raised his voice. “Hey! I’ve got the princess—”
The hobflies rushed him, swarming his head.
He flailed his arms, trying to bat them away. “What the—? Get the fuck off me!” The knight stumbled backward.
The hobflies buzzed as they flew toward his eyes. He crashed to the floor, his head bouncing off the stone with a sickening crack . He went still.
I raced forward with the army of hobflies at my back. Sir Gawain stood guard between the rows of cells, his chestnut hair shining in the torchlight. He darted blue eyes from my face to my bloody gauntlet to the cloud of hobflies behind me.
“Princess…” he said, his throat bobbing.
“I’m going to be queen before this day is over,” I said. “Will you serve me, Sir Gawain?”
His lips parted. A ring of keys hung from his belt.
“You know every inch of the Drakhold,” I told him. “I’ll need someone like you on my council.” Did I know the slightest thing about a royal council? No. But it sounded good. Hopefully, Sir Gawain thought so, too.
He stared a beat longer. Then he reached for his keys. “This way, Your Highness.”
Moments later, he pulled open a cell door. Lorcan rushed over the threshold and grabbed my arms.
“You’re well?” he demanded.
“Yes,” I said. “Except for the gauntlets. I saw my mother in the mirror in my room. I have a root vor . It’s irata , which also means ‘mirror.’ And I think I can travel through mirrors now, but I’m not sure.
Werewolves attacked the castle. They’re fighting alongside the witches outside. Rasimir is there, too.”
Lorcan stared at me.
“A lot happened since I saw you last,” I added.
“Sounds like it.” Lorcan’s eyes dipped to my breastplate, and masculine satisfaction and something undeniably sexual gleamed in the dark depths as he lifted them again. “I like the dragon.”
BOOM. The dungeon shook, and dust sifted from the ceiling.
“Any plans to let me out of here?” Vander called from behind a cell door on the opposite side of the corridor. “Or are we waiting for the dungeon to cave in first?”
Sir Gawain hurried to the cell. The second the door swung open, I was in Vander’s arms.
“Are you all right?” I asked, his agony in the courtyard still fresh in my mind.
Pulling back, he grinned. “Not a scratch on me.” He looked me up and down, an appreciative glint entering his eyes as he took in my armor. He thumped a soft knuckle against my breastplate. “I like this.”
“I love you,” I blurted, swinging my gaze between him and Lorcan. “I love you both. I didn’t say it before because we were busy, but—”
“ Very busy,” Vander said.
“—I wanted to make sure you both knew.”
Vander’s smile was equal parts sweet and wicked. “I never doubted it.” He brushed the knuckle he’d thumped against my breastplate under my chin. “And I love you, too, Corinthe. Probably since the first time you punched me in the face.”
“Understandable,” Lorcan muttered.
Vander leaned in, and I thought he’d kiss me, but instead he murmured, “It’s all right if you love me more than you love Lorcan.”
Lorcan bristled.
Vander looked at him. “You haven’t said you love Corinthe.”
Nerves knotted my stomach. Oh gods, what if Lorcan didn’t share my feelings?
He desired me. He definitely liked me. But love was a lot to ask of someone.
Maybe he wasn’t ready. And now I’d spilled my confession into the open for everyone to see.
I pulled from Vander’s touch. “It’s all right. Lorcan doesn’t have to—”
“I was going to say it,” Lorcan said, glaring at Vander.
Vander snorted. “In what century? Because it took you the better part of one to say it to me.” Vander offered me one of his lazy smiles. “His Grace has trouble expressing his feelings.”
Lorcan’s jaw looked ready to crack from the force of him grinding his teeth. “You’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, as usual.”
“So you don’t love Corinthe?”
My hand itched to punch Vander again. “Vander—”
“Of course I love her!” Lorcan said. “She’s gorgeous and smart and frustratingly brave.” He stepped forward, and I could have sworn red dragonstones gleamed in his eyes as he gave Vander a fierce look. “I love her as much as I love you, may the gods help me.”
Vander nodded, his expression the equivalent of someone dusting their hands. “Good.”
I gaped at Lorcan. “You do?”
He looked at me. But he didn’t stop there.
Stepping close, he shoved his fingers through my hair and tipped my head back, holding me trapped in his stare.
“Hopelessly. Shamelessly. Yes, I love you. And if this kingdom crumbles around us, I’ll build you another.
I’ll build a life for us anywhere you wish. ”
Words deserted me, language all but forgotten.
BOOM.
The castle rocked. Sir Gawain gasped, reminding me that the men and I had an audience. The hobflies darted around the dust that sifted from the ceiling.