30. Chapter Thirty Siyala
Chapter Thirty: Siyala
Once Xander disappears into the tunnel, I quickly pull the clothing from the satchel, a choked noise tumbling from me when the lacy white undergarments tumble to the ground.
“Highly impractical for a female locked in the dungeon,” I grumble, letting the towel that was wrapped around me fall.
Slipping the undergarments on, I then tug black pants up my legs and past my hips, securing the ties that are centered at the front.
A light blue tunic, more form-fitting than the others, comes next.
I’m pleased that there are socks included, even if they are impractical.
But I’d like to remain as clean as I can for as long as possible, so I quickly wipe the bottoms of my feet with a cloth before tugging the socks on, then using the towel to squeeze the excess water from my hair.
Looking down at myself, I nod absentmindedly. I can escape in this.
Knowing time is limited, I blow out a steady breath and then do a quick walk of the perimeter of the room, stopping in front of the door that Xander just went through.
I miss its outline at first glance, and it isn’t until I drag my fingers back and forth that I finally feel a small unmistakable groove in the stone.
“Clever,” I murmur, stepping to the side and sliding my hands along the wall.
“Now, are there more of you?” I adopt a pattern as I search for another opening.
Step, step, swipe. Rough stone meets the soft flesh of my palm, but so far, there is no break in the feel of it.
Step, step, swipe. Moving in circular motions, I search high and low, sure that there must be another hidden entrance to this room.
Reflecting back, I know both Xander and Tienne must have come down into the dungeon via these secret tunnels because I hadn’t seen them leave by way of the stairs.
If the purpose of these tunnels was for royals to be protected against attacks from above, then surely, there would be at least one actual exit from a room.
I pause to listen for approaching footsteps, my heart racing in my chest. When I don’t hear anything, I resume my search, moving quickly as I round the back of the room and continue to the opposite wall.
Step, step, swipe. “Come on,” I whine, squinting my eyes.
I’m halfway down the longest wall in the room when I hear them—Xander’s boots are loud as he makes his way back here.
Heart speeding up, I pick up the pace, skin sliding over stone in a rushed motion likely too fast to even detect— I gasp, pausing and reversing the motion of my hand until I feel it again. Cold air.
Squinting against the dim lighting, I press the tips of my fingers over the air, following it as it rises in a straight line.
Though I can’t see the outline of a door, this must be it.
Why else would air be seeping from a random spot in the stone?
I step back and try to find markings on the wall to remember where the door is located.
But it all looks like the same stupid gray stone, and Xander is close enough now that I can pick up the faintest rhythm of his heartbeat just beyond the hidden door.
I turn and look at the food laid out on the silver tray, running to grab a chunk of roasted sweet potato, my fingers searching for the air again and then following it down to the ground.
There, I smear the vegetable against the stone, leaving an oily orange mark.
Darting back to the crates with food, I clasp my hands behind my back just as the other door swings open and Xander steps through.
The flame gems’ glow highlights the planes of his face—broad cheekbones and a proud brow—his eyes piercing as they immediately land on mine. I hold my breath to slow my pulse as he sweeps his gaze over the room.
“All decent,” I offer lamely, wiping the remnants of the sweet potato on the underside of my tunic and hoping that it isn’t visible through the light-colored fabric.
Xander shuts the door behind him, throat working as he pretends to casually observe the room while making his way towards me. But he betrays himself when his eyes look past where I’m standing and right to the space where I suspected the door to be. It is there.
“You should eat,” he says, closing the distance between us before handing me the brush.
The rush of his scent in the air clouds my next inhale as I tip my chin up to look at him.
Gods, has he always been this tall? His gaze makes a path over my hair and down my face, pausing briefly on my lips before he forces his head to turn, and then he’s walking to one of the tipped-over crates on the other side of the food.
Pushing the crate against the wall, he takes a seat and leans back, extending his legs out in front of him at an angle.
“Please,” he adds, his voice deep but also soft, the brush he grabbed from the cell set on the crate between us.
My heart pounds wildly as I sit opposite of him, both of us tracking the other’s movements.
Get it together, Siyala. Gathering my hair over one shoulder, I begin brushing it, the noise of the bristles running through my strands the only sound at first. “Are you going to eat as well?” I ask, looking at the amount of food on the tray. There is more than enough for us both.
Xander shakes his head. “This is for you.”
“I can’t eat all of this,” I lie, sliding the tray closer to him even as my stomach protests. My mouth waters at the scent of the cooked meal before me, but I force my attention to working out the knots in my hair. I’ll eat enough to keep my energy up, but I can’t get too full.
The guard’s stony expression has returned, and my nerves flutter in response. It takes effort to not look at where I’ve marked the second door, so I watch Xander watching me, wondering if I have ever been part of a more awkward moment.
“So you shifted?”
My hand pauses halfway down my hair. “Yes.”
Xander’s brow arches, a dark slash over his forehead. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not particularly.” Setting the brush down, I slowly work my hair into a braid, dropping my hands when I get to the end. Without anything to secure it, it begins to unravel, and when Xander notices, he uncoils a brown strip of leather from around his wrist, extending his hand out over the table.
“Here.”
I ignore the acute awareness of our skin touching when I pluck it from his grasp.
His eyes feel like a brand upon me as I tie it around the end of my braid, so I lower my own gaze back down to the food and grab a fork.
Though cold now, everything is cooked and seasoned perfectly, and before long, I’ve cleared half the plate.
With my stomach satisfied, my fingers close around the waterskin.
“Can I ask you a question, Xander?” Taking a drink, I find it curious that despite the bored expression Xander wears, his eyes remain locked on me, watching my throat as I swallow.
There’s an intensity in them that makes me shift on the crate, my thighs squeezing together.
Stars above, perhaps this is a new symptom of insanity.
I need to get out of this dungeon. The thought sobers me, reminding me of what I need to do.
I could use more information, anything to help make sure that Immie and I make it out of the castle as unscathed as possible.
Swiping the back of my hand over my mouth, I set the waterskin down.
“Go ahead.”
“Am I correct to assume that this room, and the tunnels that are woven throughout the castle, are unknown to King Dolian?” He doesn’t react, doesn’t appear to be breathing, as he lets the silence linger between us in answer.
I keep my tone light as I continue. “I just mean, you said it was for your men—”
“My community.”
“Right, yes, your community. I’m just wondering if that community includes the king.”
Xander’s gaze narrows, and my stomach dips in response. “Do you think it includes the king?”
“By choice? No. Not really. But by vow…” I shrug, playing with the hem of my tunic, the fabric soft between my fingers.
“Or, perhaps, everything you’ve told me is a lie, and this is nothing more than a ploy to gain my confidence so that I will spill my secrets.
” At that, his gaze jumps up again, and despite the fact that I’m using his hope of earning my trust so that I might escape, there is a twinge of disappointment that I might be right.
He’s lied to you already. He’s a Trusted, which means he was there when Alexi died.
He put Rhea back in that tower when she tried to escape.
The reminders bolster me, and I sit up a little taller.
“The king is unaware of these tunnels,” he admits, looking like he’d rather slice his own tongue off. “At least, I’m fairly certain he is. They’re documented in records, I’m sure, but whether or not he read those when he became king, I don’t know.”
I nod, absorbing the information. Xander said some of his community included guards, but if the king doesn’t know about the tunnels, I have to assume that the number of guards that do is very small.
Meaning that if I could get Xander locked in my cell, then it’s doubtful Immie and I would run into anyone when we escape.
And until another guard comes down for the daily meal drop-off, Xander would likely go undiscovered for a while.
Hope fills my chest, enough so that the slight bit of guilt I feel at what I will have to do is squashed beneath it. This could truly work.
“My turn,” Xander says, boots planting on the ground as he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees.
A few strands of black hair fall from the bun that has twisted half of his hair up behind him, framing his face in a way that makes it impossible not to look at him.
I brace for whatever question he might ask about Rhea, mentally sorting through the information I think will be safe to tell him. “Why are you afraid to shift?”
I nearly tumble off the crate from shock. “What makes you think I’m afraid?”