Chapter 41
Zanna
Big surprise. Kurtz was late.
Zanna stood in the cold, damp bowels of Ice Island, just inside the heavy, ironbound door that led to the tunnel connecting the prison to the mainland. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the faint drip of water from the ceiling somewhere behind her.
He should have been here by now. Where was he?
She beat a fist against her thigh. He’d let her down again. The thought came unbidden, and it settled like a brick in her chest.
The door stood wide open behind her. Any moment, someone could stumble across her standing here like a fool with no reasonable excuse. The thought made her shift her weight from one foot to the other and punch her leg some more.
She was going to get caught, arrested, and thrown in a cell on the women’s floor, all because Kurtz Chazir couldn’t be trusted to keep a schedule.
She shoved the bitterness aside. She wasn’t being fair. These past weeks, he’d proven himself reliable, shown his loyalty again and again.
And yet, how did she know he hadn’t run off with some tavern wench?
Fiora or Rilla? The idea burned in her chest. It was exactly the sort of thing the old Kurtz would have done.
Pleasing himself without a thought of how it might affect those who counted on him.
But he wasn’t like that anymore. He’d said so, and she believed him. Didn’t she?
She blew out a long breath, annoyed with her tendency to hold grudges.
The dark tunnel yawned ahead of her, swallowing what little light came from the single torch flickering on the landing halfway up the flight of stairs behind her.
Zanna’s own words came to mind. How she’d asked Kurtz if he could handle the darkness. The way he’d snapped back had stung more than it should have. Kurtz had always been insufferably arrogant, but something in the tone of his denial had left her wondering.
What if the dark really had spooked him? Sure, Cole was with him, and the boy was more than capable of keeping Kurtz on task. But what if they needed her help?
She wedged a pebble into the doorframe, ensuring it wouldn’t close and lock her out. It was a risk. A big one too. Someone might come along and shut the door fully, securing Crispen West’s fate of being sold.
Zanna stepped into the suffocating blackness of the tunnel.
She’d never been bothered by the dark—not even when Darkness had covered half of Er’Rets in its oppressive shroud—but for some reason, this darkness was so absolute it felt like a living thing, pressing against her skin and swallowing the sound of her footsteps.
She counted each one, knowing the total distance was just over six hundred paces.
Even though she couldn’t get lost, she still trailed one hand along the rough, damp wall to reassure herself. The cold seeped through the fingertips of her gloves, making her shiver. Each step felt tentative, and she strained to hear any sound.
By the time she reached three hundred sixty-two steps, a noise stopped her. Shallow, ragged breaths, straight ahead. Her heart jumped into her throat. Someone was there.
A scraping noise came next—boots scuffing against stone, perhaps?—then a dull thud as something struck the wall, followed by a muffled groan.
She shifted her feet, planting them firmly, wanting to be ready in case she needed to fight. Her boot caught on something, and whatever it was clattered ahead of her, sharp metal rolling over rock.
The breathing hitched and went quiet. For a moment, the only sound was the far-off drip, drip, drip of water.
A man’s voice broke the stillness, hoarse and strained. “Who’s there?”
Her shoulders eased, the weight falling away at the sound of that voice. “It’s me.”
“Zanna?” Kurtz rasped.
She exhaled. “What are you doing? Did something happen to Cole?”
“Mistel was taken.”
Her heart lurched. “Taken? Where? By who?”
“Drustan. We think he took her through a secret passage under the Boar.”
“Wait—Cole’s alone? How could you leave him?”
“The king’s with him,” Kurtz said. “Came through the Veil. There wasn’t time for me to linger.”
“Yet here you are,” she shot back.
A pause. “I told you I’d come.” He spoke like he was gasping for air. “Blasted lantern ran out of oil.”
She bit back a smile at how he’d misunderstood her criticism as surprise that he’d kept his word and come when she’d meant he was wasting time here in the middle of the tunnel. She decided to needle him in a way he could not mistake. “And you’re afraid of the dark.”
“I’m not afraid!” he snapped. “I’m fine.”
His voice came from below her. Was he on the ground?
“You’re not fine. I could hear you unraveling.
How long have you been here?” When he didn’t answer, she softened her tone.
“Breathe, Kurtz. Slowly in, slowly out.” She crouched and reached out until she found his shoulder—he was sitting or kneeling.
She placed both hands on his face. “Focus on me. On my breathing. Match it.” She breathed in for three seconds and held it. Then exhaled for three.
Kurtz breathed with her, reached up and covered her gloved hand with his, drawing a shiver through her. They stayed like that a few seconds longer than they probably should have.
Quietly, tentatively, Kurtz said, “ZolZanna?”
He’d never said her full name before, and she liked it more than she cared to admit.
“You’re going to have to trust me,” she said.
When he spoke again, his voice was calmer. “I can do this. Just…lead the way, eh?”
Sure, now he was fine. His pride wouldn’t let him admit otherwise. Zanna bit back a sigh. Typical Kurtz. Embarrassed at being caught broken, then annoyed about being embarrassed. Still, if pride was what kept him moving, she could work with that.
“Hold on to me.” She stretched her arm down, her hand searching the air until it struck his forearm. His strong fingers closed around her wrist, the grip almost too tight, like a drowning man clinging to a lifeline.
With her free hand braced against the wall, Zanna started back toward the prison, towing Kurtz behind her like a ship dragging its anchor. His breathing steadied with every step, and despite herself, Zanna grinned.
This was going to be interesting.
Zanna pressed back against the damp stone wall, holding her breath as a pair of guards trudged past the entryway to the fifth floor. She glanced at Kurtz, who stood on the other side of the opening. Hand tight on the hilt of his dagger, he peeked out, then nodded.
Zanna went first, striding along the fifth-floor landing like she belonged on this level. Kurtz followed, their steps clicking in unison as they made their way past the cell doors on the right.
Over the waist-high rail on Zanna’s left, the atrium yawned out, a vast diamond-shaped void plunging to the yard below.
Railings curved around each floor in perfect symmetry, drawing the eye up and down the towering space.
Every level mirrored the last—identical walkways, narrow cell doors.
Distant voices and the faint clatter of chains were nearly swallowed by the sheer height of the space.
Crispen’s cell was two from the end of a narrow corner, just before the walkway flipped around to the other side. A guard would be positioned there, would see them coming. Zanna only hoped he’d ask questions first before calling for help.
Sure enough, as they neared, a figure approached. A torch lit the guard’s face just long enough for her to recognize Revik Tagg.
Her stomach twisted.
“You know him?” Kurtz asked from behind her.
“Unfortunately, yes,” she whispered. “He’s smaller than most guards, but has a crude fixation on me.”
“Can we use that?”
The thought made it feel like worms were crawling over her body, but she swallowed hard and said, “I’ll try.”
“Then I’ll hang back a bit,” Kurtz said.
Wonderful. Tagg strode toward her, his gait casual, but his dark eyes gleamed in a way that made her cringe. She stopped and forced herself to hold still as his gaze roamed over her.
“Well, now, Anna Tankel, this ain’t your floor.” His grin was all teeth. “Decided to take me up on my offer at last?”
What would Mistel do? Zanna curled her lips into a playful smirk, pretending his very presence didn’t turn her stomach. She traced a finger down the front of his uniform. “Couldn’t stop thinking about it. But…maybe somewhere a little more private?”
His smirk widened. “Knew you’d come around.” He leaned in, the stench of ale thick on his breath, and reached for her waist. “Couldn’t resist me, huh?”
Kurtz cleared his throat.
Tagg stiffened, and Zanna stepped aside so the man could see Kurtz clearly.
His eyes narrowed. “Who’s that?”
Kurtz moved before Tagg finished speaking. Quick and brutal, he drove his knee into Tagg’s gut. As the guard doubled over, wheezing, Kurtz struck the back of his head with the pommel of his dagger.
Tagg crumpled.
Zanna wiped her damp palms against her tunic. It was over.
Kurtz nudged Tagg’s unconscious form with his boot, then grinned at her. “Well done, eh? That was rather enchanting.”
“Shut up and keep watch.” Zanna knocked hard against his shoulder as she shoved past and yanked the keys off Tagg’s belt. She found the fifth-floor master and shoved it into the lock. The bolt groaned as it slid back, and she opened the door.
Inside, a man slumped against the far wall, his wrists and ankles shackled, his face thin.
Crispen West.
His head lifted at the sound of the door, and he blinked as he took in Kurtz, dragging Tagg inside. “What—?”
“No time.” Zanna crouched to unlock the chains around his wrists. “We’re getting you out of here.”
When she moved to his ankles, West rubbed the raw skin of his wrists. “Where are you taking me?”
“To Cole,” Kurtz said, offering him a hand up.
The boy’s name lit up West’s eyes. “You’re friends of my son?”
“Best friend he’s got.” Kurtz pulled West to his feet. “Now, stick close and keep quiet, eh?”
Kurtz led the way out, and Zanna shut the door behind them, leaving Tagg as the new occupant of the cell. Good riddance.
They moved quickly, back to the stairwell and down, their escape unhindered. Zanna fell a few paces behind, continuing to glance back to make sure they weren’t seen.
Up ahead, a voice cut through the quiet. “Well, well.”
Zanna froze and pressed herself against the wall at the bottom of the stairs.
She carefully stole a glance around the corner.
At the far end of the passage, Verdot Amal stood in the dim torchlight, arms crossed as if he’d been expecting them.
Six guards flanked him, swords drawn and fixed on Kurtz and Crispen.
Zanna held her breath, willing herself to remain unseen.
“This is disappointing, Chazir,” Verdot said. “You’d think thirteen years in the Pit would have left you with more sense. But you always choose the wrong side, don’t you?”
“The only disappointment here is you,” Kurtz said. “Selling men like cattle? You won’t get away with it.”
“You’ll think twice about that when you pledge your service to the Hamartano women as their newest eunuch.”
“Never going to happen.”
“You’re a pawn, Chazir. You always have been. You think I didn’t know you sent Fiora Lingel to me? You walked straight into a trap. Again.”
“What do you mean, again?”
“I think you know.”
Zanna wished she could see Kurtz’s face. Though he faced away from her, she noticed him straighten and square his shoulders.
“You know what a maggot is, Verdot?” Kurtz asked.
“It’s a parasite. Born from filth. Lives off rotting flesh.
Well, maggots turn into flies, they do. Buzz around, spreading filth wherever they land, thinking they’re important.
But in the end, they’re just carriers of decay.
That’s what you are, buzzing about in the shadows, feeding off the ruin of others. ”
“Fancy words, but I’m not the one foolish enough to walk back into a prison.”
“If you’re going to kill me, get on with it, eh?”
Verdot tsked. “Considering what Jaelport is paying these days for eunuchs, that would be a waste.” He gestured to the guards. “Take them.”
Kurtz lashed out as the nearest man approached, landing a solid punch. West tried to fight as well, but in his weakened state, he barely got in a blow before being forced to his knees.
Zanna tensed and ground her teeth, wanting to run out and help them, but they were terribly outnumbered, and if she was going to do any good at all, she needed to be free and stay that way.
It took three men to force Kurtz to the floor and wrench his hands behind his back.
“Throw them in the holding cell,” Verdot said. “They ship out in the morning.”
“You think this ends with you selling me off?” Kurtz yelled.
Verdot walked away. “It ends when I say it does.”
Zanna’s heart pounded as the guards dragged Kurtz and Crispen away. Every muscle in her body screamed to act. She couldn’t just let them be taken. Not like this. But what could she do?
Without a second thought, she turned and headed for the stairs leading to the underground tunnel.
She needed to get help.