CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX TREW
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
TREW
The servants’ stairs on the end of one wing descended into darkness thick enough to choke on. Each step creaked under my boots despite careful weight distribution, the sound amplifying in the narrow stairwell until it felt like we were announcing our presence to the entire castle.
I led with Isi close behind, her breathing steady despite the terror that must be clawing at her insides. This woman was brave beyond measure, following me into the bowels of her father’s castle to question a prisoner who might hold the key to everything.
Or who might be too broken to help us at all.
Pherin perched on Isi’s shoulder, her tiny body rigid. The bird’s head swiveled constantly, tracking every sound. She was ready to alert us at the first sign of danger, and I was grateful for her vigilance even as worry gnawed on my bones.
Gavelle had already left to carry my message to Syllavar, though I wouldn’t have been able to bring him inside without giving us away. Cinderhawks were rare; my connection to him would be remembered from the Day of Mercy.
Voices drifted down from the upper levels, normal castle activity. Servants cleaning while the lords and ladies slept, guards marching through the halls, plus the familiar rhythms of a household long asleep.
The temperature dropped with each level we descended. The air grew damper, carrying the musty smell of stone that had never known sunlight. Isi shivered beside me.
We reached the base of the stairs and after making sure there was no one in the hallway beyond, we stepped out.
The storage room corridor stretched ahead exactly as I’d mapped it.
We exited the hall, aiming for the wine cellar, and reached the first checkpoint, a junction where three corridors met. According to Derren, a guard sometimes patrolled this section during evening rounds.
I pressed my back against the wall, Isi pressing in close beside me. Her warmth bled through the layers between us as heavy boots rang out on stone.
Coming closer.
Isi went still, barely breathing, tension coiling through her muscles, ready to fight or flee if necessary.
The footsteps drew nearer. A guard appeared at the junction, near enough that I could reach out and touch him.
He whistled off-key, his melody carrying in the quiet corridor. But he appeared oblivious to us standing in the shadows.
Pherin fluttered a wing in warning, and I shifted us deeper into shadows.
As he passed us, his torch made light slither across the walls. He continued down the next corridor without breaking his stride.
I counted to twenty after his footsteps had faded before allowing myself to breathe normally again.
“That was close,” Isi whispered.
I squeezed her hand. “Yup.”
The wine cellar waited at the end of the corridor, exactly where Isi had said it would be. Inside, racks of bottles lined the walls, their contents aging in the cool darkness. The air smelled of oak and fermentation, pleasant compared to the musty corridors we’d navigated.
Isi led me to the back wall, where a door was half-hidden behind a rack of very old, very expensive wine.
I pulled the rack aside as quietly as possible, though it screeched as I shifted it on the stone floor and the bottles clinked.
We ducked behind a cabinet and waited in silence after, but no one investigated.
We approached the ancient door, the wood dark with age and the iron hinges coated with rust.
Isi reached for the handle and twisted but couldn’t tug it open.
“It’s locked,” she said, surprise in her voice. “It wasn’t when Addie and I were children.” She produced two thin pieces of metal from a pocket in her leathers.
I frowned. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to pick the lock.”
“Pick the lock,” I slowly repeated. “You know how to do that?”
“No, I just happen to carry tools to do so in my pocket.” Her smirk rose. “How else do you think I got into your office at Syllavar?”
My grin rose. “I’d wondered about that.”
“Addie taught me.” Her fingers worked the lock, her head tilted to listen for telltale clicks. “She said every princess should know how to get into places she wasn’t supposed to be.”
I shook my head, watching her hands move with skill I envied. “Your sister was a terrible influence.”
“The best kind.”
The lock clicked open.
Isi pushed the door inward, revealing a narrow stone passage beyond. Complete darkness waited, the kind of absolute black that swallowed torchlight and gave nothing back.
I stepped through first, my shoulders barely fitting in the confined space. Cobwebs draped across the corridor in curtains, clinging to my face and hands as I pushed through them. The smell of damp stone and rot matched the guilt twisting in my gut.
I thought of the fierce young woman who’d bonded with a dragon and fallen in love with my cousin. Who’d volunteered for a dangerous mission without hesitation because she’d wanted to help end the threat to both our kingdoms.
I’d sent her into danger. I’d approved the mission myself, and now she was paying for it with torture and flight. I was responsible for anyone who got hurt under my command.
Those games Isi had played with her felt like grim rehearsals for this very moment.
If she died because of my orders—
“It’s not your fault,” Isi said, as if reading my thoughts. “Addie made her own choice. She always did.”
I wanted to believe that. But the weight of command and every decision that put people I cared about in harm’s way pressed down on my shoulders, making me feel like I weighed more than the world.
We continued deeper into the passage, the darkness complete except for the faint glow of magic I used to light our way. Just enough to see a few paces ahead, not enough to draw attention if anyone looked down the tunnel from either end. It wasn’t one of my best skills.
Voices ahead made us freeze.
Men spoke in low tones, their words indistinct but close.
We stopped and went absolutely still, not moving until we were sure they weren’t coming our way.
The passage ended at another door. Through the cracks in the wood, I spied a small room. A glance showed it was empty other than brooms and buckets and mops.
We eased the door open and stepped into the closet, remaining there while peering through cracks in the door leading to a hallway beyond. I spied torchlight. Shadows moving. Two guards stationed near the dungeon’s side entrance.
Derren should’ve drawn them away by now. The fire should’ve started. We should have a clear path. But we didn’t.
Had something gone wrong?
We pressed together in the darkness, Isi’s back to my chest, my arms around her. Barely breathing. Barely moving.
My body aligned with hers perfectly, every curve and angle fitting against me in a way that felt both natural and devastating.
Her sweet scent filled my nose. I wanted to hold her like this forever.
I wanted to stop time and exist in this moment where it was just us, where the rest of the world and all its demands couldn’t reach us.
I kissed the top of her head, a promise without words.
Minutes ticked by. Each second stretched into eternity while we waited, pressed together in our hiding place, listening to the guards chuckle about how the next Day of Mercy would make for good executions.
How much longer could we wait? If the fire escalated, it could trap us down here, our diversion turning into real disaster.
Then the faint tinge of smoke wafted in.
“Fire.” The shout came from somewhere above us. “Fire in the servant’s quarters!”
The guards gaped at each other.
“Did you hear that?” one said.
“Yeah. Should we go?”
“It’s a fire. Everyone helps during a time like that.”
They bolted for the stairs.
I counted to twenty, listening for any other movement.
Derren strode into the hall, his face grim. He glanced toward the door and gave a quick hand signal to show things were clear before taking up position where he could watch for the guards’ return.
With a weapon in her hand, Isi pushed the door open, wincing as the hinges creaked. She slipped from the closet. I followed, emerging into a stone corridor dimly lit with torches.
The dungeon stretched to our left, a place designed to break spirits.
We moved quickly past the occupied cells. Those who’d be put to death on the Day of Mercy slept on bunks or stared at nothing with hollow eyes. They didn’t even look our way as we passed, too hopeless to care about footsteps in the corridor.
These were Isi’s people.
I would end this. I’d dismantle the Day of Mercy and everyone who upheld it. No one else would die for the crime of being born with magic.
We bypassed the main block, entering the isolated wing where one prisoner waited.
The woman’s cell lay at the end. Isi stopped in front of it, staring at the barred door.
Three locks secured it. Someone wanted to keep this woman well-contained.
Isi knelt in front of the locks and started working. I kept watch, a blade in my grip, while Pherin launched from Isi’s shoulder to scout the corridor behind us.
The first lock clicked open. Then the second. The third one fought her, the mechanism corroded by dampness. Isi’s breathing quickened as she worked.
Time was running out. The fire would be under control soon. Guards would return to their posts.
I sent a thread of magic outward, sensing for approaching footsteps, confirming the hall stayed empty.
We needed to move faster.
Finally, the last lock surrendered with a click that echoed down the corridor.
She pushed the door open, trying to minimize the screech of the protesting hinges.
A woman lay on a bunk along the back wall, so still I thought she was dead.
But she moved, turning toward us slowly. Her eyes caught the torchlight from the corridor, reflecting back at us.
Recognition flashed across her gaunt features when she saw Isi.
“You came back,” she whispered, her voice rough. “You’re Amarissa. You look just like Marlane.”