Chapter 30
Chapter
Thirty
KADEN
Sneaking through the forest, our small group stays away from the main road, taking refuge through the thick trees. It’s taken five days to get this far, when a simple two days’ ride is sufficient. But the roads are blocked, and the Humans are scared. We had to tread carefully.
This part of Neevea is always so cold, damp, compared to my home. A guard behind me trips on a wet leaf, the sound small but enough for us to pause, and wait to see if we’ve been detected.
I had rather leave Zeke behind to protect my family, but it was an order I couldn’t refuse. Together, with two more guards, we traipse through the darkness, eyesight keen without the moon overhead to light our way.
We narrowly avoid two scouts, and a group of soldiers relaxing by an open flame. They’re outside the walls, looking for oncoming attacks. He doesn’t even bother to hide those in the Crimson Army colors, blue and red uniforms meshing together. Despicable.
We end at the gates we rode through all those weeks ago, staring up at the barricaded walls.
I try to focus on the task at hand and not the niggling worry at the back of my skull over Max’s safety. I have to hurry this and return to her.
“Mal’s intelligence was sound,” Zeke compliments, judging the height of the iron door. “They’ve hidden inside.”
“There must be a way in,” a guard calls behind me. Drayn, he’s been vetted by my uncle and one of the few guards I could trust with my life. Most were still loyal to Zelos.
“There is,” I agree, looking for another opening. “How else do the soldiers come back inside after their shifts?”
The last guard, Henrik, stands watch, looking out to the abandoned grounds. During our time here, this area was full of citizens, stalls and sellers. Now, it’s a barren patch of dirt, where not even the crows scavenge.
“Make it quick,” he warns. “Those guards are due for another walk about.”
Sliding my hand along the gate, it sizzles on contact from the iron. I ignore it, fingers pulling into any crack I can find.
It takes a few moments, following a crack in the wall, until I find an unseen door, cut into the stone. Only those who know where it is would be able to find it.
Holding the door open, my guards file in first, leaving me last. Not a moment too soon as we hear the stomps of boots coming around the corner.
Inside, the hall is dark, dank, smelling of old mold and mud. This is the barest level, right on top of the ground. It’s nothing more than a passageway and poorly tended.
“Our last visit here,” Zeke begins, “the throne room was directly in front of the gates. The halls on either side had many different routes.”
“Where was his office?” Drayn asks.
“Top floor,” I answer, remembering a certain blue-eyed kitten and her sharp words. “But he didn’t keep anything there. He only had maps and official correspondence.”
My siblings and I checked the entire castle for any information on a weapon. He hid everything too well that had I not stumbled upon Max using her magic, we would have returned as failures.
“Where would he keep his personal notes?” Zeke looks to me, then the area. “I would assume his office but you’ve already searched there. Perhaps his bedchambers?”
“The dungeon,” Drayn responds. At all our curious looks, he shrugs. “No one goes into the dungeon unless needed. Guards are limited. He could easily hide notes there, in a spare room, or a moveable rock in the wall. Wherever it’ll fit. No one would know.”
“It’s not a bad idea.” I clamp a hand on the younger Fae’s shoulder. “You three head to his chambers. I’ll take the dungeon.”
“My heir,” Zeke cuts me off, two steps from exiting into the halls. “You should have someone with you.”
“Captain.” I sigh, stepping around him. “Where is the most danger? Infiltrating the king’s bedchambers in the middle of the night, where he is most likely asleep or in the dungeons, where no one goes but a few guards?” My magic can handle that.
Knowing he won’t win, Zeke nods at my logic.
“Fine. But be careful. Half past the hour, we’ll regroup.
” He glares at me and I can’t help but smirk.
He’s always bossy when we’re on a mission.
Comes from decades spent dealing with my antics on various missions.
“Not a moment longer. If you’re not back here, I will come get you. ”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way, Zeke.” Of all the people, I trust Zeke with my life. We fought together, he trained me and when I needed to purge all those who had taken advantage of Fee, he helped me find them.
As my uncle’s lover, he’s as close to family as one can be.
I salute, darting into the halls to the left while the three males go right.
Twisting through the halls, I make it to the dungeon door with little fuss. There are no guards stationed inside, which tells me most are outside the walls or on the top, patrolling. That gives us an advantage.
Taking the steep stairs, the scent of decay and refuse hits me like a physical slap. The dungeon is pitiful, with leaking, crumbling ceilings, and holes in the floors. There are no lights down here, just a simple torch or two, most cells black inside.
The most unsettling part is the quiet. I expected one or two guards, the rattling of prisoners in chains, perhaps a few calls for help. My magic flares along my back, submerging me into the shadows to further hide, but there is nothing to hide from.
Is Griffin running a lax operation or are there no prisoners to guard?
Hunched close to the wall, I inspect the cells as I go, seeing all of them empty. Further back, almost to the end, is one cell in particular. The bars are old, made of iron and rusted from neglect. But something compels me to stop, to stare into the blackness and wait.
My beast purrs in my chest as if it can sense something hiding in the dark.
Inhaling, I smell the old blood, the stained urine, and the death that clings to the wall. There’s moss and mud and the scent of rodents in the shadowed alcoves. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Something shifts in the darkness and then, in the far back, I see a pale hand.
I watch the hand move, shaking with effort as it tugs a blanket closer, barely more than a scrape of fabric. The chill down here is wet, grotesque and that cover is not enough to fight off sickness.
Whoever this is, has been here for some time. There are no footprints, no signs the doors have been opened. They’re left to rot in this prison. Left to die.
“I knew you’d come,” he grunts.
“Knew I’d come?” Unlikely. No one would think I’d come back to Griffin’s castle willingly.
The man pulls himself off the ground.
I wince, looking up at him. He’s tall, lean, skin so thin it’s stretched over his bones. His thick black hair is long, hanging in limp dirty strands. He’s more ghoul than Human, swaying to my side as if his feet forgot how to walk.
Given the condition of his accommodations, I’m surprised he’s alive. What did this man do to get such treatment?
He leans against the bars, long limbs hanging over the edges. He has welts and blisters from the rats who share his cell. What a miserable existence.
“Seti told me you’d come.”