Chapter 38
The stone stairs below the castle seemed to groan under Ellaryn’s weight with every step.
The air was damp and thick with the metallic tang of iron and despair.
Chains rattled faintly in the distance, and each echo made her stomach roll.
She had to see him—had to remind him that she was going to get him out of there.
“Sailen…” she whispered, her voice soft, trembling despite her best control.
From the shadowed corner of a cell, a small figure stirred. His dark eyes, wide and glimmering with exhaustion and fear, found hers immediately.
“Ellaryn…” His voice was barely audible, trembling. He pressed his tiny hands against the cold cage, searching for warmth through the iron.
“I’m here, little one,” she murmured. “I’m here.”
He blinked rapidly, and a shaky smile flickered across his face. “Are you getting me out?” He asked, hope wide in his eyes, and Ellaryn’s heart sank.
“Not yet.” She whispered, keeping her voice steady despite the lump in her throat. “But soon,”
Sailen’s lips quivered; a sob caught in his throat. “You keep saying that.”
Ellaryn pressed her forehead lightly against the door. “I know,” she whispered. “I know, but this time I really mean it.” She forced a smile through the tears welling in her eyes.
He sniffled and hugged himself, trying to shrink into the shadows. “I just… I just want to be outside. In the sun. I want to feel it on my skin. I’m so cold, Ellaryn. So cold all the time.”
She smiled softly, a single tear escaping down her cheek. “I know,” she said. “I know. But until then… I have a story for you. About a brave prince.”
Sailen’s eyes widened, curiosity flickering through the fear. “A prince?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Do you want to hear it?”
He nodded eagerly and focused intensely on her.
“Once, there was a prince—”
“Was he handsome?” Sailen interrupted, voice holding an innocent curiosity. Ellaryn’s lips twitched.
“Yes… almost painfully so.” She admitted, her cheeks tinting at the thought. “With hair so blond it shone like spun gold and eyes so blue they’d make even the sky blush.”
“Whoa,” Sailen muttered as though he were imagining it for himself.
“Anyway, this prince was banished from his kingdom by an evil man. An evil man who murdered his family in cold blood and stole his people for himself, ruling with fear.” She said, and Sailen gasped.
“He was young, too young to fight back, too weak.” She continued. “So he waited. And waited. Trained until he was strong enough to claim what was his. To end the suffering the evil man inflicted.”
“How did he do it?” Sailen asked.
“He had courage… so much courage, and a plan,” she began to whisper.
“He entered the impossible city… his home, and found a friend who would help him to draw out the evil man’s weaknesses.
Together they searched, and they searched until they had the strength and the knowledge to fight.
They faced the cruellest man in the land, and though he tried to take everything from them, they never gave up.
They fought for each other, and for everyone who couldn’t fight for themselves. ”
Sailen’s trembling eased slightly, his small fingers brushing against hers through the bars. “Do… do you think they won?”
Ellaryn’s lips pressed together. “I think they will,” she said softly. “But the fight isn’t over yet. And right now… you have to keep your hope alive. That’s how they win.”
He nodded, a tear rolling down his cheek. “I… I trust you, Ellaryn.”
Her chest ached, the weight of the world pressing on her shoulders. “And I’ll protect you,” she whispered. “Even if it costs me everything.”
For a long moment, they stayed like that—the cold stone between them, the walls, the shadows, but the warmth of that small hand against hers carried more hope than any light could.
Finally, she stood, giving his hand one last squeeze.
“Stay safe,” she whispered. “Keep your hope alive. I’ll come back for you.”
Sailen nodded, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “Promise you’ll stay with me when you get me out?”
Ellaryn swallowed hard, the weight of the lie pressing against her chest. “I promise.” She smiled, knowing that if things went to plan, she wouldn’t live long enough to keep it.
* * *
On her bed later that night, Ellaryn watched the sun sink behind the wall as darkness crept over the city, orange sparks flickering to life in the streets below.
When she was satisfied most of the city would be asleep, she slipped from her room, light on her feet, her black cape blending her into the shadows.
She reached the kitchen and silently thanked the quiet—it was empty.
Fast. In and out. No questions. No witnesses. That was her plan.
She checked the cupboards, gathering what she thought Arielle would need. Not too much—any missing food would draw suspicion, and a thief in Cinders risked the dungeons or worse. Not too little either; she didn’t know how long Arielle and the baby would have to stay hidden.
Milk. Arielle had said milk. She was relieved—it gave her a place to start. Babies weren’t something she had experience with, except the few she’d had to haul to the King over the years. She found a glass bottle sealed with a metal cap, about a litre or two—enough for the small baby.
She added an apple, some bread, a tin of canned meat, and a bottle of water, closing the satchel with a careful tug. It would have to last. She’d have to tell Arielle to ration it.
As she made her way down the hall, Damien’s voice sliced through the silence.
“Well, if it isn’t Ruin.” He chimed, making Ellaryn freeze. His smirk was infuriating, his presence suddenly heavier than the shadows around her.
“Fuck off, Damien,” she said, body stiffening, every instinct on high alert.
He feigned offence. “That’s no way to talk to a knight.” He pushed off the wall, eyes flicking to her satchel. “Going somewhere?”
Ellaryn shifted, forcing nonchalance. “Just… a walk.”
“You and your walks,” he muttered before leaning close, the hint of a threat in his tone. “Remember your scarf… don’t want to catch the Blight.” He snickered and brushed past her.
Ellaryn let out a quiet, shaky breath.
Something about the encounter had felt… different.
She glanced back, catching Damien’s wink before forcing her gaze forward. Just an arsehole like always. Right?
She kept walking, each step measured, until she reached the bottom of the castle steps and let the darkness swallow her whole.
Arielle jolted upright as Ellaryn entered the small space. The wail of the baby cutting through the tunnel, sharp and urgent. She found herself cursing under her breath. If anyone knew about these tunnels, the two of them would’ve been discovered long ago.
“Here.” She handed Arielle the glass bottle of milk.
“Oh, thank the Gods,” Arielle murmured, cradling the baby with shaking hands. His face was bright red, tears streaking down, screams tearing from him. “I can’t seem to calm him.”
Gingerly, Arielle guided the bottle to his lips. The instant he tasted it, the crying ceased. He licked eagerly, focused entirely on drinking, as if the world beyond the milk didn’t exist.
Ellaryn’s eyes drifted around the room, only now realising the chaos unfolding around them. Papers littered the floor, the poster board lay toppled, books were scattered across the shelves.
“What happened in here?” she asked, voice soft but curious.
Arielle took a slow breath, surveying the damage. “It was him,” she said, voice tinged with awe. “Hungry and angry… then everything started flying.” Ellaryn noticed Arielle’s hair was no longer neat—loose strands framing her face, lop-sided from the ordeal. “He really is… something else.”
She glanced down at the baby. There was an innocence in his eyes, a careful curiosity as he studied Arielle. A small smile threatened to break across her own face.
“He really is,” she agreed quietly.
Arielle looked up, her walls briefly lowered, then quickly hardened again, face set.
“These are for you.” Ellaryn lifted the bag, handing over the food and bottle of water and Arielle’s eyes lit up.
“Thank you,” she whispered, taking them carefully. Then, looking at the baby, she added, “Can you hold him while I eat? I need a moment—and if he doesn’t get more milk, he’ll cry the place down again.”
The request made Ellaryn freeze, eyes widening. “Oh… I—I don’t know how.”
“Please,” Arielle urged, desperation flickering in her gaze. “I’m starving, and he still needs me. Just… sit down and hold him carefully.”
She hesitated but noticed the desperation in Arielle’s eyes, so she gave in and nodded.
Arielle gently lifted the baby into her arms, showing her how to support his head.
“Like this. Keep him close. It helps if you sit.” She guided Ellaryn to a chair, then picked up the milk, gesturing for her to let him drink.
Ellaryn watched, careful and uncertain, her arms tense at first. The baby’s tiny fingers curled around hers, and his eyes, bright and trusting, met her own.
As she settled him against her chest, her gaze softened, tracing the curve of his cheeks, the way his lips latched onto the bottle, and the quiet stillness he brought to the chaos around them.
For a moment, Ellaryn allowed herself to forget the world outside the tunnels—the danger, the King, the mission. Here, in this small room, with the baby in her arms, there was only this fragile, fleeting peace.
“You’re good with him,” Arielle said softly, watching Ellaryn handle the baby.
She tore her gaze from the child and met Arielle’s eyes. “Oh… I’m not.”
“You are. He likes you,” she insisted, taking a small bite of bread.
Ellaryn shook her head, a wry, tired smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah… well, he shouldn’t. I’m a mess.”
Silence stretched between them, heavy and fragile, until Arielle broke it. “I always wondered… about your relationship with the King. Whether you… enjoy your work, or if you’re forced.”
Ellaryn said nothing.
“People would talk about you at the hospital,” she continued quietly. “They’d say you were evil. I thought you were too… but—”