38. Belly of the Beast
Belly of the Beast
The interior of the passageways was dark, though thankfully, they were relatively clear of spiderwebs.
Cypress wasn’t even sure if Cade knew of the existence of the tunnels. Someone within Caelith’s cabinet would, though, so she and Torren would still need to take care that they weren’t discovered.
The wall separating them from the castle proper was stone, but it would only dampen their noise, not erase it completely.
Cypress held out hope that they didn’t meet anyone in this passage on their way to the tower. If they did, she and Torren would need to handle the situation quickly and quietly.
With only a small dagger strapped to her thighs and no visible weapons on Torren, though, that could prove to be a challenge.
When Cypress mentioned as much to Torren behind her, he said, “Don’t worry, Lass. I came prepared to do what I must.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Cypress hissed and began climbing the long, winding stairs.
Torren didn’t deign to respond.
While Cypress was Captain, she hadn’t given much thought to the servants who had to traverse these passageways, hauling food and drink and who knows what else up to the royal rooms. Most of them had been orphans like her, merely dealt a less fortunate card than she when it came to where they’d landed in the Keep.
Now, though, all that Cypress could picture were the faces of those orphans, as they’d been as children carrying countless things up and down these stairs, day after day.
That feeling of foolishness, of naivety crept up Cypress’s spine. She’d been so blind to the mistreatment of those around her. Cypress didn’t know if she would ever be able to bring herself to forgive that blindness- that willful ignorance.
But, she made a vow to be better. To do better.
Starting with righting this wrong. Once the Hunt was sleeping once more, Faerie would no longer bend the knee to Grethnah. She would make sure of it.
She kept waiting for guards to come out of a darkened connecting hall as they climbed the stairs, to ambush them where there was nowhere to run but back down the stairs.
But no one came.
Torren and Cypress went unnoticed until they reached the top of the staircase and stepped into the hall that ran parallel to the main halls in this part of the Keep. This corridor was barely wide enough for her and Torren to walk side by side.
Then, a maid carrying a bundle of sheets and a small candle shielded by a glass lantern entered the servants' passages through an entry operated by an identical opening mechanism as the one Cypress and Torren had used.
The maid froze when she laid eyes on Cypress and Torren, still in their ball finery, down to the masks partially shielding their faces.
Luckily, though, Cypress knew this maid.
“Aalis,” she said, her hand outstretched toward her lady's maid and friend.
Aalis’ eyes widened a fraction, the sheets dropping to the floor. “Cypress? What are you doing here? They’ll have you killed!”
Cypress shook her head. “There’s no time. Who else is still on scullery duties this evening?”
Aalis listed a number of names with a wince. Not a single one of them had been particularly friendly with Cypress while they were all kids in the orphanage. “Stay out of the lower corridors. Oswald is patrolling around the ballroom.”
Cypress nodded her appreciation.
“Lass, we need to keep moving,” Torren urged from behind her, his hand resting on Cypress’s lower back.
“I know,” Cypress responded, but something kept her from leaving her one-time friend just yet.
She took a step forward and grabbed Aalis’s hand. “Aalis… if you ever, I mean… If you want to leave Grethnah, come find me in the Wylds,” Cypress said and then kept moving.
She and Torren disappeared down the corridor, their now tiny candles illuminating the stone archway barely above their heads.
“Who was she?” Torren asked when they were a good distance away.
“A friend.”
“A trustworthy one?”
Cypress threw him a scathing look over her shoulder. “I wouldn’t have asked her to come find me if I didn’t think so.”
“Just asking, Lass.”
Cypress grunted, though instead of commenting further, she merely said, “There will be three more junctions, and then the next hall will open into the atrium of the vault.”
From the corner of her eye, Cypress saw Torren’s sharp nod.
They’d already been discovered once, and someone had grown suspicious of them in the ballroom, so Cypress guessed it was only a matter of time before someone else came upon them as they crept through the servants' passages.
So, she took care not to bump into the walls, to place her feet softly.
Cypress and Torren made it through two of the junctions without incident.
The third, unfortunately, was not the same as its predecessors.
Just as Cypress led Torren through the junction of the passage that crossed theirs, someone shouted, “You there! Halt!” A rattle of chainmail accompanied their quick footsteps.
There was nowhere to run– nowhere that wasn’t in direct line of sight for an archer. And unfortunately, Cypress knew the voice of their pursuer.
Maddock was one of the more slender Knights within the Prince's guard. And, unfortunately, remarkably prolific with a bow–both traditional and cross.
“Fuck,” Cypress muttered to herself, then ordered Torren, “Follow my lead.”
She barely registered his nod before Cypress whirled around with a fake gasp. “Oh, thank goodness! Can you tell us how to get back to the ball?”
“How did you get in here?”
Cypress floundered for a response long enough that Torren chimed in with “We snuck away for a little… alone time. The wall moved. We’ve been stumbling around looking for a way out since.”
Cypress had to admit that Torren thought quickly on his feet. Maddock could fire an arrow directly at their hearts at any moment and kill them if he thought for even a moment they were up to no good.
Thankfully, though, she and Torren had not removed the masks draped over their noses in addition to the slight glamour that disguised their features. Maddock had never laid eyes on Captain Cy, but he was familiar with Lady Cypress.
“Follow me, I’ll take you back. No more sneaking off into the castle, though. This part is off limits.”
“Of course, sir,” Cypress gushed and rushed to follow the guard.
“She’s a pretty thing. Can’t say I blame you for sampling the goods before buying the whole cow.”
Cypress glared daggers into the stone wall.
Torren huffed a laugh, though from experience, Cypress knew it was not one of amusement.
“Why buy the cow when I can get the milk for free?” Torren replied.
Again, Maddock laughed. Then the guard turned and walked back down the hall, where another entrance to the passages lay.
Quiet as a mouse, Cypress crept up behind Maddock. Then, with the same hands that had clawed their way through Torren’s hair not even an hour earlier, Cypress circled Maddock's throat and twisted violently to the side.
She had always felt as if it were too easy to snap someone’s neck. As if the body was built incorrectly for such a fragile set of bones to support the weight of one’s head.
As Maddock’s body fell to the floor, Torren let out a sound she couldn’t name.
Glancing back at him, Cypress found him staring at her, slack-jawed.
“Ready to keep moving?” She asked, brushing her hands off.
Maddock had always been a disgusting little shit. His death would not lie heavily across Cypress’s shoulders.
“You are something else,” Torren said, and shook his head.
They were running out of time.
The thought compelled her forward. Cypress ran as silently as she could the rest of the way down the corridor.
Hopefully, they could get out of the Keep without further incident.
Before opening the hidden doorway, Cypress pressed her ear against the stone to listen for sounds of people inside the atrium.
All was silent, though she couldn’t be sure if that was due to the thick stone dampening minimal noise, or if she and Torren were truly alone.
“Be ready for anything,” Cypress whispered, then pulled the mechanism to open the door.
She slipped through before it was fully open, eyes darting to the corners for anyone lurking.
Thankfully, she and Torren were still alone, here at the top of the Keep.
“The vault is through those doors. Go find the scepter. I’ll stay here and keep watch for anyone coming out of the tunnels.”
“We shouldn’t split up, Lass.”
“Don’t argue, Thief. Go do what a thief does best, and let's get the fuck out of here,” Cypress said in a tone that brooked no argument.
Torren opened his mouth as if he were going to push back again, but Cypress silenced the urge with a sharp glare. “Go.”
His footsteps echoed slightly as he disappeared through the doors Cypress had indicated.
Left alone with only her swirling thoughts, Cypress listened for footfalls coming through the servant passages, her eyes set on the main entry doors to the room.
The urge to pace, to stride from one end of the room to the other, ran rampant in her veins, but as always, Cypress ignored it and stood at attention in the atrium.
Torren was relatively quiet while he searched in the other room, but she could hear sporadic clanking and rustling coming from the room behind her. Not loud enough to raise suspicion, but still, the noise made her grit her teeth.
The distinct click, click, click of a hard-soled shoe coming down the hallway just outside the atrium spurred her into action.
Cypress grabbed one of the swords from a nearby display and held it loosely at her side. Had she not sparred with these very swords nearly every day of her life, she may have hesitated for fear of a dull blade.
But the metal was just as sharp as ever–perhaps even more so. It glinted in the candlelight, the edge shining like a sinister star.
The outer door was thrown open, and Cade, Prince of Grethnah, strode through.
He was alone, though Cypress wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.