Chapter 6
Chapter Six
The city of Lunaria sat in an open plain.
It was just high up enough on a ridge that you could see it from the top of the tree line.
We walked half the night in the trees so that we would not be seen.
We spoke in soft voices and drank coffee and tea to ward off the sleepiness that pulled at our limbs.
After what I estimated was about five hours, Godric stilled.
He peered around the forest floor, then up into the trees as if looking for something.
The air smelled faintly of dust and river water as we moved soundlessly, boots making soft impressions on damp earth. The trees pressed close above us, a dark ceiling that swallowed the moonlight in ribbons.
‘Tell him it’s off to the right,’ Val said.
“It’s to the right, Val says,” I told him.
He nodded and turned his body to the right. He walked over to a giant blackwood pine tree and began digging at its base, removing moss and ferns. The moon was full, but being in the dark woods with the sounds of animals and breaking twigs still had me looking over my shoulder constantly.
“Uhh, are you hungry?” I asked. “I have food in my pack.”
What was he doing?
He shook his head, revealing a water-stained wooden trap door. He probed the door, checked the seam twice, fingers working with the care of someone checking for a wound.
Then he pulled a brass ring until the trap door opened and peered up at me. “You don’t have a fear of confined spaces, do you?”
My heart began to flutter rapidly in my chest. “Doesn’t everyone?”
He smirked. “This gets us under the black stone gate and right into the marketplace.”
Whoa! A hidden tunnel! I’d read about them in the Dregs.
Aerlyn was rumored to have them, too. If ever attacked, the royal Elite families would escape that way.
Godric was peering at the stone steps that led to the tunnel with a look of horror, as if lost in a memory.
Something dawned on me then. “Was this how Kaelric escaped that night everyone was killed? Did you…?” I didn’t want to rehash that dark past if he didn’t want to talk about it.
He nodded, staring off into the trees as if stuck in his memories. “I managed to get Kaelric and Elia out. Elia and her mother were visiting from Hildreth for Val’s birthday. Her father stayed back to tend to their farm. I couldn’t get Maelis, though…”
Elia was there the night it happened? Oh, that was awful.
I kneeled down and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, the way I see it, you saved two lives.”
He nodded, swallowing hard.
“Does Maelis know of this tunnel?” I asked him.
He cleared his throat. “Yes. But according to our insider, she’s never been able to leave the castle, so it would be of no use to her.”
Oh no.
Rage, like a burning hot fire, roared to life in me. I was going to kill this King Harrow and hang his head on a spike in the town square!
“Let’s go,” I said confidently. I could endure a few minutes of walking in darkness for justice for my mate.
I kept Valkaryn at my hip, feeling the sword hum faintly under my palm as if steadying my own nerves.
It wasn’t a few minutes. It was thirty! And the tunnel smelled of mildew and damp rotting leaves.
Godric had a small oil lamp in his pack, which was a merciful comfort, but it cast creepy shadows on the walls and floor of the tunnel as we walked.
At one point, we stepped over a huge tree root that part of the tunnel had caved in from.
When we finally reached a set of steps at the end, I sighed in relief.
The lamp’s light trembled across carved stone, making each step feel like a step through history. Small scuffs had been left in the mortar, reminders of people who had passed this way long before us.
“I pray it’s not light out yet. We should be okay if it is, but be ready for anything,” Godric announced.
I pulled Valkaryn and stepped back as Godric walked slowly and quietly up the stairs. When he went to push the trap door upward, it barely moved. He peered at me with alarm.
“Has it been sealed shut?” I whispered.
‘Or there is just something over it,’ Val told me. ‘It’s been out of use for a decade. Long forgotten.’
“Maybe a heavy piece of furniture is over it?” I offered.
He nodded and took a few steps downward, getting a running start before he launched up the steps and crashed into the door. It popped with a groan, and then there was a crashing noise as it broke free.
When the trap gave, Godric quickly shut the door and motioned that I turn off the lamp. We let the darkness settle for a heartbeat before drawing breath.
My heart was in my throat, sword pulled and ready for anything.
Kaelric chose the worst time to check on me: ‘Checking in. All good?’
‘Yep, doing great. Just in the tunnel,’ I said quickly, so he wouldn’t send the troops after me. I strained for any noise up top that the crashing sound had drawn someone to us, but heard nothing.
‘Let me know when you are safe in the city and undetected,’ Kaelric told me.
“I’m going up first,” Godric whispered. “If I shout, you run back and go to Kaelric.”
“Okay.”
I wouldn’t do that. I’d rush out and fight with him.
He creaked the door open, and we were met with pale moonlight. Once he was able to get the trap door fully open, he leaped out, and I waited, Val drawn and ready to fight.
After an agonizing minute, Godric’s head peered out of the opening. “It’s safe,” he said.
Relief rushed through me as I climbed out, taking Godric’s offered hand.
When I popped out to the surface, I spun around to see that we were in an open-air market.
The sun was just rising, casting a honey-gold light over rows of canvas tents and awnings.
Godric had knocked over a heavy food cart that had been resting above the trap door.
Garlic bulbs were spilled all over a little rug that had been covering the entrance.
I bent down and helped him gather the bulbs, placing them back into their buckets.
Once we had righted the cart and smoothed the rug back into place, we slipped out of the small stall we’d been in.
I peered up to see that we were inside a massive tent.
It was patched and brown, but beyond it the market stretched in a riot of colors: crimson, indigo, emerald, and saffron cloth strung between stalls like bright ribbons.
Piles of figs, copper pots, and bolts of fabric gleamed in the growing light.
At the center of the square loomed a statue, as tall as the surrounding tent.
It was carved in the rough likeness of who I assumed was the imposter King Harrow himself.
His stone face stared down in cold triumph, his arm raised as if blessing the trade.
At the base, coins, flowers, and scraps of food had been piled into little mounds, a strange shrine of offerings that made my skin crawl.
I peered at Godric to see his fists clenched as he glared at the statue. “He thinks he’s a god. Wolfkin have no use of coin. He’s acting more like an Elite.”
From where we stood at the tent’s edge, the city spread out beyond the market.
Narrow stone streets twisted between crooked buildings, their shutters painted in peeling hues.
Towers with jagged spires cut the sky, and in the distance, the shadow of the palace loomed, blotting the dawn like a predator crouched over its prey.
I was venturing to guess that Lunaria was nothing like its former self. Godric’s breathing came in and out in short bursts as he clearly tried to contain his rage.
“We should not be seen in here before the market opens,” I told him softly, which seemed to snap him from his anger.
He nodded and bent down, scooping up a handful of coins from the base of the statue. He looked at one of them and shook his head.
I peered over his shoulder to see King Harrow’s face on the coin.
After putting them into his pockets, he pulled his hood up over his head.
I did the same, grabbing some coins for myself and pulling up my hood.
I’d never stolen money before, but Godric just had, and I figured it was going to sit here and gather dust for eternity anyway. We’d eventually need food today.
We ducked under the red ribbon that was tied in front of the open tent flaps in an effort to keep people out. The second we hit the street, Godric turned left.
I kept my hands loose, ready to draw Valkaryn if we needed her, listening for the slightest change in the city’s rhythm.
We let the early light become a cloak. Our footsteps matched the city’s pulse, so we looked like any other pair of laborers passing through. We moved along the alleyways with our heads down, letting the morning bustle wash around us while we kept to the edges.
“If anyone asks, you’re my niece. Your mother named you Daisy after the flower, and she died when you were young,” he told me, and I nodded.
“Yes, Uncle Peter.”
“Peter? That’s not a warrior’s name,” he grumbled.
I smacked his fake fat belly. “You’re not a warrior, you’re a farmer.”
Despite the circumstances, he grinned.
Two men turned down the street in front of us, and I slowed my steps, but Godric kept walking confidently. The two men wore warrior’s leathers and had swords at their hips. I made sure Valkaryn was tucked deep into my cloak, having to pivot her in line with my leg so she didn’t stick out the back.
The men didn’t even look our way. They faced forward like bodies with no souls, staring into the void.
‘Stop and pretend to have a pebble in your shoe. Something is wrong with them. I see the magic King Harrow has over them, but I need to stay close.’
“Uncle Peter, there’s a rock in my shoe,” I told Godric, and stopped, pulling my foot up to fiddle with the laces.
Godric stopped, facing me with concern, and I realized he was very good at this role-playing thing.
The men slowed as they passed us, and I flicked my gaze to them just as their heads turned in unison to look back at me.