39 LONNIE
UNDERNEATH
Bael looked up at me from where he sat on the floor of the filthy cell. Mud caked his clothes, and a deep gash ran across his chin.
Still, the moment he saw me, his yellow eyes lit up and a wide grin stretched across his face. The prince sprang to his feet and rushed toward me. “What are you doing here?”
Without waiting for my reply, he extended one muscular arm through the bars and dragged me forward.
Our lips met with urgency, our bodies pressed against the cold metal bars separating us. I shook with a mixture of fear and desire as I poured out all my emotions into that one desperate kiss. Every inch of my being longed for this moment, and as we finally connected, it was like a floodgate had been opened, releasing all the pent-up feelings of terror, longing, and relief that had been building inside me.
This was more than just a kiss. It was a release, a connection, a promise of everything to come.
“How are you here?”
he asked again, pulling back to look me dead in the eyes.
“I’ll always find you,”
I replied with a smile.
He grinned back. “How did you get into the castle, though? Are yo?—”
I pressed my fingers to his lips to quiet him. “I’m fine, and the rest doesn’t matter right now. Where’s Scion?”
His smile slipped from his face faster than a flame winking out. He pointed vaguely to the right, down the darkened hallway behind me. “I don’t know, little monster.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
He looked pained. “He stopped responding to me.”
My heartbeat jumped again, my excitement at finding Bael immediately clouding with fear. I pulled out of his grip, and ran down the rest of the hallway in the direction he’d pointed. “Scion?”
I yelled. “Where are you?”
Several cells down, I found him.
But, it was not the same happy reunion I’d just had with Bael.
Scion’s cell seemed darker, as if the prince were shrouded in his own illusions. He looked in worse shape than Bael had been, either because the king’s guard had used more force, or because he’d fought harder to escape—I couldn’t tell which. As I approached, he looked up at me, but his silver gaze held no recognition.
“Scion?”
I demanded, rattling the bars of his cell. “My lord!”
His silver eyes met mine, the magnetic pull of them tainted by the pain etched around their edges. “Go away,”
he muttered. “You’re not real.”
“Like hell I’m not.”
My voice cracked as I desperately clung to the prison bars, my knuckles turning white from gripping them so tightly.
What the fuck was going on here? What could’ve possibly happened to change him—confuse him—make him not know me? “Please,”
I pleaded, tears pricking at the backs of my eyes. “It’s me.”
He turned away from me, showing me a back that had clearly been whipped with Source-forged steel. “Get the fuck out of my head.”
“Don’t do this to me.”
I choked, real tears pouring down my face. “I fucking hate you for this.”
His back stiffened, and he slowly turned back around. “Say that again.”
For a moment, I couldn’t fathom what he was getting at, but then I understood. “I hate you,”
I insisted, ignoring the pain that burned my throat. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”
His gaze finally lifted and met mine again, and I saw recognition spark in his silver eyes. “Rebel?”
“Yes.”
He murmured something too fast for me to hear, his lips moving rapidly as he jumped to his feet and rushed toward me. I reached through the bars, and held on to him, never wanting to let go again.
He pressed his forehead to mine through the bars, and finally I was able to make out what he was saying: “I love you. I love you, I love you.”
Tears still streaming down my face, I finally laughed. “I’m going to get you out. Both of you.”
I scanned the room, searching for any object that could break open the cell doors. A key on a hook, a lever, even a rock would do.
My hands shook as they skimmed over damp walls, tracing the lines of mortar between stones, hoping for some hidden mechanism, some secret lever to reveal itself beneath my desperate touch.
“Stay calm,”
I muttered to myself, the words a mantra against the rising tide of panic. “There has to be a way.”
My fingers traced the cold, unyielding iron of the cell doors, the chill seeping into my bones as I let out a frustrated sigh. The keys, if they even existed, were nowhere to be found, and the locks were unlike any I’d seen before—imbued with a magic that repelled every attempt at picking them.
“There’s no point,”
came a voice, ancient and gravelly like stones tumbling down a mountain. “You’ll never find a way out.”
I whirled around and my gaze snapped toward a neighboring cell where another prisoner sat in the dark. He looked like nothing but eyes glinting out of a pile of hair and rags, and I wondered how long he’d been down here.
“Shut up,”
I snapped. “There has to be a key somewhere.”
“No key,”
he chuckled dryly. “It’s only the king who can open the doors.”
“Well how does he do that?”
I demanded.
“Blood,”
he replied bitterly. “Royal blood.”
The words resonated within me, setting off a flicker of hope in the darkness of my despair. Without hesitation, I reached for the dagger in my boot and sliced my palm, smearing my blood across the lock of Scion’s cell.
Nothing happened. The door remained firmly shut, mocking my efforts.
“Fuck,”
I growled, bitterness coating my tongue.
I was no true royalty; my blood was as powerless here as I was.
“Let me try,”
Bael spoke up, his voice cutting through my defeat.
“Why?”
I asked. “I’m wearing the damn crown and it didn’t work. It has to be Gancanagh’s blood.”
Bael looked at me, his eyes widening. “I know.”
Oh. Oh.
I rushed over to him, my excitement rising once again. I passed him my dagger and he cut his own hand, and smeared it over the lock as I’d done.
I held my breath, watching the blood trace a path over the intricate carvings of the lock. There was a moment of silence, so profound that even the whispers of the castle seemed to pause in anticipation.
Then, the door began to groan, a sound that seemed wrenched from the very bowels of the castle itself. As the door yielded, inch by grudging inch, I could almost sense the reluctance in its movement. Bael’s hand remained pressed against the cold metal, and with a final, resentful creak, the cell door swung open.
“Yes!”
I screamed, practically giddy from success. I rushed into the cell and threw my arms around Bael. He held me tight for a long moment, and once again I felt tears pricking the backs of my eyes.
Quickly, Bael moved to Scion’s door, repeating the blood ritual. Again, the castle relinquished its hold, and the door opened.
I didn’t hesitate. My arms flung wide, I rushed forward, embracing them both in a tangle of limbs and emotions. We stood there for a long moment, before Scion pulled away.
His dazed gaze had mostly cleared, but he still looked a bit wild, untethered. “Let’s not celebrate yet,”
he growled. “We’ve still got to get out of this damned place.”
His statement was like a rock falling into the pit of my stomach.
A wave of guilt washed over me, realizing that I’d been so focused on getting my mates back, I’d completely forgotten about the other person I loved.
“Wait, we can’t go yet,”
I insisted. “Have either of you seen my mother?”
Bael cocked his head to the side, bewilderment in his eyes. “Your mother?”
I nodded, already pulling away from them to peer into the other cells. My heart sank with realization as I checked those at the end of the row.
She wasn’t here.
I’d already gone past every cell in this place, and Bael and Scion were practically at the end. The only other person held deeper than them was the old man who’d known how to open the door.
My gaze landed back on the old man. “Are there more cells somewhere? Another room perhaps?”
The man rose to his feet, more gracefully than I would have expected possible. He chuckled darkly. “You have a lot of questions, girl.”
“Yes,”
I said desperately. “Can you help?”
He moved toward the bars. “Let me out, and I’ll help you with whatever you like.”
My eyes widened as we came face to face, and I realized that he wasn’t old at all.
A strikingly young, handsome face emerged from a tangle of waist-length hair and an unkempt beard. His hair was so matted and filthy that it could have been any color, but his violet eyes shone with clarity even in the darkness.
I hesitated. “Why are you in here?”
“Let me out, and I’ll tell you.”
“Tell me now,”
I demanded.
He laughed again. “I would, but it’s a long story. I’ve been here for nearly seven-thousand years.”
That…couldn’t be right. He was mad, or confused, or…something. Wasn’t he? A shiver traveled up my spine and I shrank back. “No…”
“Wait!”
the man said desperately calling me back. “I could help you.”
“Do you know where my mother is?”
“No,”
he admitted, as his eyes flicked to the crown on my head. “But I could still help you. Wouldn’t you like to know where that crown came from? Would you like to know how it’s supposed to be worn?”
“I—”
Before I could answer, the sound of sudden footsteps pounded behind me, and the mysterious prisoner yelled in alarm. “Behind you!”
I whirled around, my eyes frantically scanning the room for the king, or perhaps the guards, but instead they landed on the figure of the veiled queen sprinting toward us.
For a moment, I’d completely forgotten she was there. Apparently, that had been a deadly mistake.