Chapter 40 Boots
Boots
The room is too quiet for what comes next.
I do not wait in it. I cross to the wardrobe and pull it open, my hands moving through the fabric without care for order, taking what will endure rather than what was meant to be seen.
The weight of the children presses low as I bend and reach, pulling at my center in a way that shifts my balance and forces me to brace briefly against the frame before straightening again, my breath tightening as I continue.
Wool. Leather. Anything that will survive the path ahead.
Behind me, Syle appears without announcement, a bundle already in his hands.
He sets it down for Colsar, the fabric dark and clean, shaped with quiet intention.
Colsar looks at it once, then begins changing without pause, replacing what little he has with something built for movement, the fit exact in a way that feels anticipated rather than measured.
He does not question it, and there is something in that lack of hesitation that steadies the space more than any reassurance could.
I strip away the last of my gown and pull on the heavier layers, the fabric dragging over my skin as I work it into place.
The weight of the children forces me to adjust again, my stance widening slightly as I secure the next layer, my breath shifting as I move through it instead of fighting it.
I reach for the golden staff where it rests and hold it for a moment, feeling its full weight in my hand before drawing on the thread of glamour that answers to me now.
The structure yields under my control, folding inward until it shortens and narrows, the gold compressing into something that fits cleanly along my side.
I secure it at my hip, the balance of it working with me instead of against me.
Colsar steps in front of me and lowers himself, his movements direct as he reaches for my boots.
I shift carefully as he pulls them into place, the pressure low in my body forcing me to brace against the edge of the wardrobe while he tightens the laces with controlled force, securing them so they will hold.
His hands remain there for a moment after he finishes, and when he looks up at me I see it.
It passes quickly, but it is there.
He is measuring me as I am now. Not as I was, not as I will be, but as I stand in front of him, carrying more than my own weight, slower than I should be, exposed in ways that no amount of strength fully erases.
"Stop worrying," I say, quieter than I intend, but even enough.
He rises, his attention still on me. "I just spent six months out there," he says, his voice low, controlled in a way that holds more than it gives away. "I know how dangerous it is. And how cold."
"This will be a different route," I say, my voice more certain than I feel.
Colsar’s expression does not change, but something in him accepts the statement for what it is rather than what it promises.
When we open the door, Syle is already waiting. He moves ahead of us, already positioning himself to lead.
Syle’s voice cuts through my mind. “Two corridors are already blocked. They’ve been taken.”
We don’t hesitate.
A sound carries faintly from somewhere ahead, uneven and wrong in a way that does not belong within these walls.
Colsar's hand closes around mine.
We move quickly, our pace controlled but urgent, Syle guiding without looking back, his path direct as he leads us through turns that narrow and angles that cut away from the main corridors.
Once, a figure appears at the far end of a passage. A servant or a guard, I cannot tell which. They go still when they see us in a way that feels less like respect and more like calculation. For a moment I think they will move toward us.
They step back instead, disappearing into a side passage without a word.
We keep moving.
The air changes as we near the east wing, cooler, less traveled, the structure older, and the passage narrowing as Syle turns and presses his hand against a section of wall that looks no different from the rest. At first nothing happens.
Then something shifts.
The wall opens, revealing a narrow descent behind it, darkness waiting below.
We step through.
The passage closes behind us, sealing out the last of the light from above, leaving only the dim glow lining the descent. The steps angle downward, uneven in places, forcing me to focus on each placement as the weight I carry pulls against my balance.
Syle moves ahead of us, guiding the path without hesitation as the passage curves and narrows, his presence the only constant in the dimness.
Colsar adjusts his pace beside me without comment, his hand in mine, his position shifting slightly to account for each change in the terrain as though he has already mapped it without needing to see it.
We descend in silence, the sound of our movement carrying farther than it should, each step echoing faintly through the enclosed space.
Then Syle slows. Subtle at first, just enough that I catch the change in rhythm ahead before he comes to a full stop. He turns, his expression unreadable in the dim light, but his attention fixed with a clarity that leaves no room for misunderstanding.
He stops and turns, meeting my eyes. “This is where I leave you.”
I look at him briefly then pull him into a hug. "Thank you, cousin." He smiles at me sadly and says "We will see each other again. And Enovar will meet you soon—”
“I am funnier than him anyway.” I jump as Enovar appears next to him.
Colsar snorts at that, an exceptional show of warmth from him.
Enovar looks between us once, something passing through his expression that does not fully surface, then steps back, giving space rather than taking it.
"The path will hold," he says. "Follow it as it bends.
Do not deviate unless forced. The first safehouse is not far once you reach the lower passage. "
Colsar nods once.
Syle's attention returns to me. "Use as little power as possible. You are easier to find than you realize."
"I know,” I say aloud.
For a moment no one moves. Then they disappear.
The passage stretches ahead of us, narrower now.
Colsar's hand tightens slightly around mine as we continue forward.
The air feels different the deeper we go, closer, carrying the faint trace of something I cannot place.
The path bends again, widening just enough before narrowing once more, the uneven ground forcing me to stay aware of every step as the weight I carry pulls against me.
For a time there is nothing but the sound of our movement.
Then something changes. It is a difference in the way the air carries, in the way my awareness shifts without clear cause.
I do not slow, but my focus sharpens, reaching outward in a way that feels more instinctive than anything else.
Colsar senses it at the same time I do, the change passing between us without the need for words.
His hand adjusts around mine, carrying a heightened awareness, his attention aligning with mine as we move.
No one speaks as we continue forward, our steps falling into a quiet rhythm that draws us deeper into the passage.
Ahead, somewhere beyond the reach of what we can yet see, something moves.