Chapter 17
Peytor
Three Months Ago
My feet swung over the edge of the ledge as my hands dug into the jagged side of it.
Well, this feels familiar. I told myself as I laughed sardonically.
But the difference was, this time, I wasn’t going to jump.
At least I didn’t think I was going to.
I’d spent the last month keeping my head down while looking for that man. The nondescript one that winked at me and gave me something I hadn’t had since I’d heard Finian’s voice:
Hope.
And hope was a dangerous thing down here.
I was convinced that he was the one Finian spoke about—the one Fate would send. But try as I might, I couldn’t find him again.
Not even a whisper from the other guards about who he was.
It was maddening.
So I’d given up, my hope drained to little more than a drop.
Maybe I really am mad, and this is all just made up in my head.
The heat in my chest pulsed angrily.
I probably made that up, too.
“Not going to jump, are you?” The voice was low and pleasant and easily forgettable, but it was one that was seared into my memory.
I turned my head slightly to see the guard standing just behind my shoulder.
“Not going to push me in, are you?” I returned wryly, which earned me a slight chuckle in return. The man sighed before sinking down next to me, the worn leather of his boots scraping against the rough ground.
We sat in silence, legs dangling over the ledge, for a moment.
“Aren’t you going to get in trouble with your superiors for sitting with me?”
He hummed quietly, never taking his eyes from the pit below us.
“Not tonight,” he said softly yet confidently, which piqued my interest.
“Care to explain.” It wasn’t a question, more like a demand, and the man chuckled dryly again.
“There’s the d’Aelius heir.” He turned his boring brown eyes to mine, the quirk of his lips flattening a bit as he took in my appearance. “I’m sorry it’s taken this long to extract you.”
He seemed truly remorseful, and I waved a hand at his apology.
“Builds character and all of that, right?” I joked, but it fell flat.
“Not this,” he said quietly. I left that unanswered, and we returned our twin gazes to the black maw of the mines.
Shouts and screamed curses wafted up from the levels below, and I snuck a chance peek over the ledge to see the commotion. Prisoners—hundreds of them—were overpowering the guards on every level and tossing them into the abyss.
Some screamed.
Some were silent.
Seemed like they weren’t so different from us after all.
“It’s time,” the man said before pushing himself quickly to a stand and offering me his hand.
I regarded it for a beat before reaching my own up to clasp his.
He yanked me to my feet before gesturing for me to walk just behind him as we made our way around the ledge to the carved stone staircase that would lead us to the next level.
We didn’t say much as we traversed the spiraling levels of the Crystal Mines, and I took a sick satisfaction watching the prisoners exact their revenge on their captors.
Some took their pound of flesh. Others carved their names into the torsos of their torturers, ignorant of their broken pleas for mercy.
We even passed a group of nearly twenty men who had their dicks in hand while a guard known for his particularly nasty proclivities was pinned to the floor by four prisoners, his ass exposed and in the air as a prisoner pounded into him.
The sounds of terror and the screams of agony and death coalesced together into a beautiful cacophony—the sound of retribution.
I cracked my first smile in months as we continued our ascent. The man turned once as we climbed yet another staircase—nearly at the top of the mines now—and returned my feral grin.
As we crested the second then first level of the mines, beautiful unrestrained sunshine filtered through the door to the mines.
Its glare was harsh and nearly unbearable after being trapped in the dark underbelly for so many months, but I refused to cower, refused to close my eyes.
I wanted to remember every second of this moment.
Prisoners streamed past us as they sprinted to the exit, never pausing in their pursuit of freedom. My own pace quickened as the sunlit door grew larger, my freedom and escape imminent.
As we crossed the threshold of the mines, sweet, cool, snow-tinged air hit my face.
The scent of pine lightly twined throughout.
I paused, closing my eyes briefly, to suck the air of freedom into my lungs.
Unbidden tears welled in my eyes as I took gulping lungfuls.
My chest seized, heart pounding, and I felt the distinct warm pulse in my chest.
“You’re safe now,” it seemed to say. “Go. Remember me, but be free.” The warmth in my chest pulsated once more in farewell before fading.
But I found that I didn’t feel alone.
I was rejuvenated, a new sense of purpose filling my being.
A strong hand grasped my bony shoulder, and I peeled my eyes open to regard the man who rescued me. There were tears in his eyes, too, and he let them fall down his cheeks to match my own.
“He’s waiting for you,” the man said and nodded his head a bit to his right. “Go. My purpose is fulfilled. May Fate guide and keep you.”
The strangeness of his statement was forgotten as I heard my name called by a familiar voice.
My head instantly snapped to where a tall figure stood, his golden blond hair shining in the afternoon sun, tanned skin chapped from the cold.
He wore only a light wool coat over a cream tunic and brown pants, his boots expensive and locked firmly in the stirrups of his saddle.
Our gazes locked, and megawatt smile crested over his face as he swung down from his massive horse in a crunch of snow.
He closed the space between us in three long strides, arms open and enveloping me in a hug before I could object.
Torin d’Eshu—leader of the rebellion in the north, my sister’s true fiancé, and my friend—held me tighter than anyone previously. He smelled of sunshine and happiness, and as I clung to him in return, I felt the tension release from his body.
He pulled back, holding me at arm’s length, eyes greedily soaking in each of my features.
“Fuck, Peytor. You look like shit,” he rasped, and I barked out a laugh. “Smell like it, too.”
“Well, considering I had to eat it at some points, I’m not surprised,” I admitted lightly, and Torin’s smile dropped.
“I’m so sorry, Peytor. So sorry. After Hestin, I had to regroup in the south.
Then the gods showed up and . . . fuck. It’s all just .
. . a lot. And Ellowyn”—there was raw pain shining in his eyes—“there is a lot to catch you up on,” he explained as he ran a hand over his face, weariness from the past six months showing in the lines around his eyes and lips.
“Well, it sounds like we both have news for each other, hmm?” I said, patting his cheek lightly once before wrapping my arm around his waist. “I apologize for the smell and general dirt. I would’ve washed if I knew you were coming, but . . .”
Torin rolled his eyes as he pulled me tight to his side.
“Sorry about the delay. We needed to make sure we had the loyalty of a few other key players first. We’ll get you cleaned up when we get back to Lishahl.”
“Lord d’Eshu,” the man called, and Torin paused briefly to regard him over his shoulder. “The mines are cleared.”
Torin nodded once.
“Mount up!” he called, his word obeyed immediately and without question. “Take what freed men and women you can on your horses. We’ll slow our progress to make sure no one is left behind.”
I looked at my friend with a new sense of awe. I’d never seen him command before, but knew he must be respected if the Last Keeper had made him a general of her armies. It showed now.
Before we mounted Torin’s horse, he turned and stretched his free hand out toward the mines. A line of fire unwound from his fingers and snaked inside before it disappeared down into the hole. Torin cut off his magic before pushing me onto his horse and mounting behind me.
Hours later, well into the Runewood, I heard a faint boom and the flapping of birds as they vacated the area. I turned to Torin, a questioning frown on my face, but he only smiled.
“Come now, Peytor. We have your sister to save. And a coup to stage.”
I gave him a feral grin in return.
Fuck yes we did.