Chapter 30
Thirty
Morgan
I’m rattled.
And the fluster is enough for me to have to admit it to myself. I’ve rubbed my wrists raw trying to free them but without a way to get to the knots, and without a blade, I’m sunk.
Kieran’s tracking me. He doesn’t know these halls the way I do, I’m willing to bet my life on it. I have. I’ve hustled into the maid’s corridors only to have the reverberation of his and Astrid’s footsteps chasing me like hounds on a scent.
My heart thrums faster than a hare’s.
Then Astrid says something that gets Kieran all high and mighty. I shouldn’t know the ebbs and flows of his voice the way I do. I shouldn’t be able to mark the inflections when he’s happy or boastful or furious.
That more than anything forces me forward and I stumble, losing my balance on one of the uneven stones near the base of the stairs. A few more turns will get me to the kitchen.
If I can make it there and convince someone to free me from these leather straps…
Kieran barks out some kind of rubbish answer to whatever Astrid says and I take a left. Losing my breath when I have to pass by the stairs where he looms at the top like a gargoyle.
He’ll see me.
I take the risk anyway and bolt out of the open into the constriction of the arterial hallways. Terror turns my blood to ice water, my wrists throbbing in time with my racing pulse.
I take the turn down the stairs way too fast because Kieran is behind me. Lumbering and breathing heavy and announcing himself with every scuff of his leather soles.
My shoulder hits the stone and I flinch, drawing back into myself.
They want me to play nice.
They want me to bow down and pretend to support a tyrant like the King and his minions aren’t responsible for destroying everything I care about. Taking my family away.
The pain from my scraped shoulder radiates through me but the dark corridors are mine. Not Kieran’s.
It doesn’t matter how fast he thinks he is. He won’t find me unless I want him to.
I need him gone. I need the space because my chest is tight and the tears are close and hungry to devour me.
I’ll leave. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll take my chances with the woods and the forest creatures and if a dragon happens to snap me off the ground and swallow in one gulp, well, so be it.
Pots clang and a belch of smoke greets me the closer I get to the kitchen. I burst through the doorway wild eyed and frenzied.
Faye is the first one to notice me. She pulls up short, her arms coated with suds up to the elbows.
“Morgan? What in the Ether—”
“Help me.”
My shoulders ache like I’ve tried to dislocate them both at the same time and I lurch toward her.
The other kitchen workers still with hands on pan handles or fists gripping wooden spoons and stirring cauldrons large enough to feed armies. They are. Future armies fighting under Ryson’s banner.
That’s where they want me to be.
I knock into Faye and turn to show her my bruised wrists. “Get these off of me.” My voice cracks. “Please. No one has tried to listen to me.”
She clears her throat delicately, shaking the soap from her arms and reaching for a cloth. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea. Did you escape the guards?”
Hysterical laughter answers her. “Guards? There’s no guards. I’m not supposed to go to the mines yet.”
“Then what’s this about?”
This room, unlike any others in the forgotten basement, is brightly lit with the glow of multiple fires reflecting off the mirrored backsplash behind the countertops. The arched ceiling is higher overhead and keeps most of the heat trapped in the room.
The blue and red tiles are cut through with multiple mats to make standing for hours on end a bit more bearable for the workers.
Faye stands staring at me with her face a mask of confusion when I steal a glance behind me. I swallow thickly.
“Please, Faye. No one else has bothered to help me. This was one of the students. Look. At the leathers. Straps for a dragon saddle.”
It’s clear none of the others here are going to do a blasted thing about this. They already brushed off the interruption and seem inclined to focus extra heavily on their work.
They don’t need to know about Kieran’s plan. And I doubt any of them care.
“A student?”
I blurted out the wrong thing. My gaze keeps traveling over to the rest of the workers, then to a block of knives kept sharp for slicing through meat and bread. My pulse fills my ears and fear coats heavily across my tongue.
I can’t waste more time convincing Faye to help me. I frown at the knife block.
I’m powerless here but the one thing I can control is my reaction. I force myself to take a steady breath.
“If you’re not going to help me then I’ll do it myself.”
I stalk up to the knife block and Faye steps in front of me to cut me off.
“You antagonized a student to the point where he put you in saddle leathers?” She leans in to ask.
My heart thrums a little faster and a bead of sweat makes a break for it along my spine. Did Faye see it? Does she see the frustration warring with fear?
“Why do you automatically think this is my fault?”
She throws me a mocking smile. “Because I watch people closer than they think. You have a way of annoying anyone who gets into your path.”
“I didn’t annoy this one.” And I fail to notice how she’d said he. Like she knows. “He’s a sadist. And it’s not time for me to fling myself into the pit yet so if you kindly get out of my way—”
I step to the loft and Faye moves with me, catching my eyes.
Just when I’d started to believe that there are good people here. She struck me as one of the good ones and if I was being really honest with myself, I’d almost thought we might be friends down the road. If I somehow managed to work that miracle the way I’d been planning all day.
A miracle? I got the ticket to my damnation instead.
“I should take you to Milkin.” Faye looks around at the rest of the workers. Then she grabs my elbow and jerks hard enough for me to swallow over a yelp. “That’s what I should do.”
I struggle against her as she starts walking away from the knives. The coldness in her gaze tells me exactly how wrong I’ve been to think she’d do anything other than toe the line.
Faye parades me out of the kitchen, stopping at the counter on her way past and glancing at the workers. Her breath is warm against my neck. “When are you going to stop getting into trouble?”
“When I get out of these straps,” I breathe. “I promise.”
“Are you sure? Because I really can’t trust you. And maybe it’s better for you not to run around these schools loose.”
She pulls up short in the hall and I look into those luminous wide eyes, wondering if I’d ever misjudged someone so badly in my life. I don’t glare at her, though. I stop struggling.
Her lips part and something shifts in her eyes. For half a second, I wonder if she really is going to give me over to Milkin.
Then Faye turns me around to look at my back and pulls my wrist. My shoulders screech in protest at the sharp movement until the distinctive snick of a blade sounds across the leathers. I feel the friction of every slice while Faye keeps me in her grasp and cuts.
I force my limbs to go still.
“If you do anything to make me regret this, then we are going to have a serious reckoning,” she whispers.
My palms go slick with sweat. I plant my feet, barely feeling the chill of stone seeping up through the thin sole of the slipper fabric.
Faye carves through the leather until it gives and my hands fly apart.
“You’re not going to regret this.” My arms are trembling when I face her.
I spent too long frozen in one position and with the blood flow returning to my fingers, the next few minutes aren’t going to be pretty.
My breath comes hard and fast as a hard stone drops into the bottomless pit in my gut.
Faye scans my face, pocketing the stolen knife into the folds of her gray dress. The movement is swift enough for me to automatically dismiss it as sleight of hand.
“Stay out of trouble, will you?” She stares down the hall over my shoulder. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
I flash her a grin. “It’s much too late for that. Thanks, Faye.”
She grunts out some kind of dismissal before heading back to the sink and whatever it was she’d been tasked to do. I take off in the opposite direction.
I know what’s coming next. A flash of pain bites as I work my wrists in a circle and ignore the pins and needles.
They’ll search the school for me. I might not agree to their deal but they aren’t going to let me out of this place without punishment, no matter how delightfully grim my plan is to disappear into the forest.
I won’t make it out the door and I know it. I slap a hand against the wall to steady myself and take the flight of stairs one careful tread at a time. At the top, my knees lock into place. One more flight.
I pump my arms for speed and run up to the final spiral staircase leading up to the world above, away from the subterranean prison they throw all the maids into. I take the stairs quickly and slip on one of the treads, grabbing the railing to keep myself from tumbling backward.
My teeth grind together. Fear is worse than anything else. I should be used to it at this point. It’s been lurking beneath the surface for years. Since my father disappeared, swallowed into the war effort, never to come home again.
Now, fear joins merrily with resentment and displeasure on my frantic dash up to the main hallway and the back door leading to the forest. I don’t want to die.
My heart nearly explodes when I push open the paneling to the main hall and scan the crowd for Kieran. Noxious laughter rings out as the students enjoy their dinner feast. I sneer in their general direction, then sag, losing my fire.
The panel opens up near the rear of the castle overlooking the threadbare forest beyond. The training fields are out there. So are the trails where I lost Kieran and his friends the other night. The tears spring free, burning on their way out, and I swipe them away before they make it past my nose.