Chapter 25 #2
The gate slams behind us as they lead us through the grounds, following the winding path toward the back of the castle, completely ignoring the staff entrance to the kitchens that I came and went through before.
I keep quiet, and after his last outburst, so does Weston, but when we stop at a wooden door, I can see the thoughts churning behind his distant gaze.
The guard at my side pulls a set of keys off his belt and unlocks a large bolt, followed by a series of others that must keep the dungeon’s secured from the outside.
He huffs loudly as he pulls the thick wooden slab open and stands to the side.
The guards surrounding Weston push him through the entrance first, and there’s a twinge of pain in my chest as I watch them disappear into the dark corridor ahead.
We can’t be separated. Not here. Not when we were so close.
I still can’t wrap my head around what is happening, why Guthrie is back and why he is pretending like he does not know who I am. Dread fills the pit in my stomach as I wonder what is going on inside these walls, and what Weston and I are actually walking into.
My guard stands next to the opening and gestures for me to go through, but I hesitate for a moment as a lesson from Edmond pops into my mind.
Edmond. Where is Edmond?
He would get us out of this mess, but they won’t go get him, no matter how much I ask.
They will, however, need to get the highest-ranking guard, especially if they are locking prisoners away.
I need to connect with him, make him see me on an even playing field, and once he does, convince him to bring me to her.
“What’s your name, sir?” My voice is soft as I try a different tactic than the authoritative one Weston already had. Even after my brief outburst toward Guthrie, hopefully he can see that I respect our guards enough to talk to me.
He hesitates for a moment before deciding that it is impolite not to answer.
“Park, my lady,” he mutters.
“Nice to meet you, Park. I’m Lennox.” I step through the doorway, doing as he asked, as yet another way to show I’m not trying to fight.
His mouth forms a line as he turns away, pulling the door closed behind us, and quickly turning the key to bolt the locks.
The light in the corridor is snuffed out the moment he shuts the door, leaving me barely able to see, if it were not for the dim lanterns that line the hall.
I peer down as far as I can, but I can see no doorways or splits in the corridor through the darkness.
“You really don’t recognize me?”
He extends his arm, and I take the hint to walk, but I keep my pace slow. After a few moments with only the sound of our footsteps on the stone floor, he finally answers.
“I’m just following orders, lady.”
Following orders? Why would there be orders to detain me in my castle? Who the fuck is giving these orders, because Brynne never would. My skin prickles with goosebumps as I continue walking, but try to keep my voice even so he doesn’t hear my nervous impatience.
“Who gave the orders, Park? Why would you lock me in my own dungeon?”
His face stays stoic, but there’s something in his eyes that he’s trying to fight. It’s obvious he takes his duty seriously. “The commander doesn’t believe you’re who you say, so I have to listen. Besides, the princess hasn’t been seen for years. Why would anyone believe you?”
“Because you know I’m telling the truth,” I plead with him. “I need you to bring me to Brynne. Now.”
“The Second Guard isn’t available to speak to prisoners,” he mumbles.
Frustration threatens to break through my calm facade. “She will speak to me. Bring me to her.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t do that, lady.”
My chest rises and falls in a deep inhale.
This isn’t working. No matter how much practice I have at convincing people I am on their side, like I did in the beginning with the Castaways, clearly the guards’ devotion to duty outweighs all personal feelings.
It’s a noble quality to have in those protecting your kingdom, unless they’re throwing you in the dungeon.
Glancing down the dark corridor again, I consider making a run for it, but I refuse to leave Weston alone.
With how Guthrie looked at him and the obvious indication that Weston could overpower even the entire group of guards, I don’t want to risk them hurting him more than they already have.
I also hate to admit to him and to myself that I’ve never seen this part of the castle.
I don’t have any idea where I am going, because I had no reason to ever be down here to begin with.
Why hadn’t I ever had Edmond bring me here in all the years of our lessons?
Clearly it was a mistake, although I never thought I would need to know.
“Turn right, and step down,” Park says, and I follow obediently, descending the stone steps into further darkness.
The room that surrounds us when the floor flattens is simple, a box of stone walls with a single wooden door on the far wall.
An empty guard’s station sits off to the side, probably at the request of those guarding Weston, to ensure they had all the help they could get.
Park strides past me, opening the door and ushering me through, his hand clamping around my upper arm as he leads me deeper into the dungeon.
Cells with iron bars line the walls, each small room separated by a thick stone wall.
No prisoners are locked inside any as we pass deeper into the dark, cold space.
Park tugs me down the hall, his shoulders pulling back the closer we get to the mass of bodies illuminated by a single torch just ahead.
I steel myself against the worry of what I will walk up to, as I take in the guards leering into the cage.
Dread fills me when I realize this will be the first time I’ve been separated from Weston since he saved me from Dane.
With all the uncertainty surrounding our return home, I am trying not to let it affect me.
I need to keep my mind clear, to think through everything the way I’ve been taught, and to get out of this as soon as I can.
I try to hide my shock when Park walks me past Weston’s cell, in front of the group of guards, and right to the open iron door.
A quick glance at Weston inside tells me he isn’t harmed, but the look of fury on his face as his eyes trail down to where Park has his hand wrapped around my arm tells me it will not bode well for this young guard.
I step inside, and the door clangs closed behind me. Before Park can even step away, Weston is stalking to the bars, until he towers over the man. The look on Park’s face would make anyone think there wasn’t iron separating them, and his throat bobs with a gulp.
“I thought I said hands off.” Weston’s voice is a deathly growl, and Park startles away from the bars, causing the group of guards behind him to snicker.
“Eh, ignore him,” one says. “He can’t do anything to you now.” The guard raises his folded arms, laden with Weston’s belt and weapons, his sword laid across the top, and my breath catches when I see what else they took.
The pouch.
It sits on top of the pile, the value completely lost on the men before us.
I don’t acknowledge it. I don’t want to draw attention to it. When all of this is settled, we will get it back, because it can’t fall into the hands of people who don’t know what it is, or worse, would exploit it.
“Blackwood law states that prisoners can have an audience with the First Guard,” Weston barks, finally pulling his glare away from Park and directing it to the group. “Since that is me, I demand to see the king.”
“Right,” a man scoffs. “We’ll just bring him right down to talk to you.”
“I’ve never even met the king,” another says. “He wouldn’t listen to me anyway, even if I had.”
“Nice try, imposter,” the man with Weston’s things snaps. “Maybe next time, come up with a better plan than just trying to waltz into the castle.”
I step toward the bars, wrapping my hands around them and softening my voice once again.
“Park, please. Please, just go get Brynne. Tell her Lennox needs her.”
The other guards laugh, and Park’s face stays unmoving, except for his eyes that look between us.
“Still going to stick with the ‘I’m the princess’ story?” the first man chortles.
“Maybe a night on the cold stone will get them rethinking whatever plan they thought they would get away with.” They all laugh again, the noise of their chatter quieting as they walk back in the way we came.
The slam of the wooden door leaves the dungeon in silence, and my shoulders sag with a heavy breath.
Weston is on me in the next second, turning me to him as his hands find my face.
“Are you alright?” His eyes scan mine, and I nod.
“What the fuck is going on?” I say, my voice hushed despite knowing we’re alone again.
“I don’t know, but those guards know exactly who you are. I saw it.”
“I saw it too. Park said something odd when he brought me inside. He said he was just following orders.”
Anger twists Weston’s face. “You knew his name, and he didn’t speak up that he knew you?”
I shake my head. “No, I asked him what it was. It was something Edmond always told me to do. When you are trying to influence someone, or get something you want, try to make it feel personal. If he feels like he can relate to me, or knows me, he’s more apt to listen.”
“But he didn’t.”
“No. Not yet, at least. But maybe he will bring Brynne here, even though he wouldn’t bring me to her.”
He looks down the dark corridor, toward the entrance of the dungeon. “Maybe. But who is giving these orders? It can’t be the piece of shit at the gate. I swear to you, the second we get out of here, he’s fucking gone.”
“Weston,” I start, then pause, trying to find the right question as my mind floods with every unexpected thing that happened in such a short amount of time.
He waits patiently, and I try not to look too confused.
“It was obvious you could overpower them. You’re clearly better than any of them.
Stronger. More trained. Why didn’t you?”
He lets out a sigh and scrubs his face, looking away from me like he’s embarrassed to meet my eyes.
“Because I made a mistake,” he murmurs, and I can see the storm of guilt and disappointment building behind his eyes.
“It’s my sworn duty to protect you, but we both know that it’s more than that.
You know I will do anything to keep you from being harmed.
My actions back there gave up that I would fight for you, and that asshole Guthrie could see that it was in more ways than just as your guard.
In trying to protect you I put you at more risk.
I let him know he could use you against me, and even though I’d fucking kill him if he tried, I shouldn’t have reacted in a way that might cause you more harm.
I knew Park wouldn’t try after I gave him a warning.
He’s too inexperienced, yet his clear want for acceptance influenced him. ”
“He didn’t touch me. Not until leading me in here, and even then he only held my arm.”
“Good,” he growls, but I can still see the turmoil in his expression and the tension in his jaw.
Reaching up, I grab hold of his chin, tilting it back toward me so he can’t avoid my gaze any longer.
“I know your oath is important to you, but I need you to figure out how to be the First Guard without letting what’s between us get in the way.
I know you can handle yourself, but I don’t want to see a hoard of guards take you down again. I can’t watch anyone hurt you either.”
The muscle in his jaw clenches and releases again. “You know what I told you when we went to get Roley. Your safety is what is important.”
“Stop with that bullshit, Weston. You know I won’t care about mine if yours is at risk. This goes both ways.”
He settles his hands on his head, his fingers wringing at his hair. “I’m sorry. I’ll figure it out. It’s my first day back too.”
I soften at his words. “I know. We knew it was going to be different from Dawnlin, and there’s an entirely new set of stakes now. I don’t know how to act around everyone else yet, and we didn’t even get time to figure it out before all of this was thrust at us. We need to get through this first.”
A chill courses through my body, not from anything that happened, but from the actual wet cold seeping through the stone walls. Weston’s arms drop to his sides, and he extends a hand out to me.
“We might as well try to get some rest. I doubt they’ll be coming back in here at any point tonight.”
I slide my fingers between his and he leads me to the back wall, far from the reach of the bars.
He pulls off his cloak and slides his back down, settling onto the hard floor before tugging on my hand, urging me to follow.
I cuddle into his side, soaking up his warmth.
His deft fingers find the clasps on the front of my cloak, and he unbuttons them quickly, shifting the fabric so it lays over us both, before draping his heavy cloak on top.
I nuzzle into his chest, and the feeling of instant security washes over me as I breathe him in. I sigh, and his arm slides around me, weaving beneath my cloak until his hand settles on my low back.
His chest grumbles as he murmurs, “He didn’t take this?”
His fingers flutter over my dagger, still secured in the waistband of my pants.
When it was given to me, almost two years ago at my ceremony, I knew its purpose.
Every king or queen of Blackwood was presented one to protect them, to give them the ability to defend themselves if the need arose.
As isolated as I was, I never considered a time where I would ever need it, until Dawnlin.
It became my security, my reminder of home, my knowledge that I could defend myself.
I never thought I would need it back in the confines of my castle, but now, as I’m being held captive by the very guards who swore to protect me, I am grateful that I have it, and even more grateful that they didn’t know about it.
I shake my head into his chest. “No. No one even asked me if I had any weapons.”
“Good,” he grumbles. “Fucking imbeciles. Rem should be appalled about the aptitude of these guards, but it’s good for us. Use it if you have to.”
His cheek settles on the top of my head and his other hand finds my face, the pad of his thumb brushing softly against my skin, and the heat of his palm warding off the bite of the cold.
“Go to sleep. Hopefully we’ll figure out the rest of this chaos first thing in the morning.”