Chapter Twenty-Five #2
I’m drenched in blood. Bright sprays of it, darkening to crimson in hard, drying patches. A warm trickle runs down the length of my ribs, and I reach a hand to my side. Pain claws up my rib cage, and I bite back a gasp.
My fingers come away stained red.
Wolf’s eyes darken. “You are hurt.”
“I said I’m fine,” I whisper again, and press a hand to the bright, slashing pain down my side.
His jaw clenches, eyes flickering over my face before he leads me through a servants’ door set into the back of the castle and down a tangle of halls where the floors are as much faded stone as dirt.
No one bothered to put marble here. At the end of one, he taps along the wood panels of the wall until a hollow sound answers back.
Wolf digs both hands into the edges of the paneling so a whole section of it cracks just enough to reveal a hole wide enough for one person where the panel meets the floor.
Memories of the maps he brought me weeks ago flare in my mind. The way the lines seemed to be sketched over older, faded ones—as if the castle were built on top of itself, the halls and corridors redrawn time and time again.
What stood here before Castle Mount?
Wolf’s knowing green eyes fix on mine. A question heats the space between us—
Are you afraid of me?
I can practically hear him ask it.
The pain in my side doesn’t touch the stubbornness my mother always loved in me.
I ignore the hand he offers and climb through without bothering to wait for him.
Shadows fall over rough-hewn edges of yet another hidden tunnel. A faint drip, drip, drip echoes in the distance, and the smell of damp stone surrounds me. Wolf climbs through a moment after, nudging me aside so my back presses against the stone of the narrow space to make room for him.
I wait until he clicks the paneling shut, hiding us from anyone who might walk by outside, and lower my voice. “I saw the vial.”
He tenses but hides it quickly. “I told you, it’s for the nerve damage… and it should be enough until you’re able to kill the king.” Wolf’s head tilts in the darkness. “I’ve noticed he’s still breathing.”
For fuck’s sake. “Been a little busy. Trying not to die, and all that.”
“How’s that working out?”
I snort, our eyes catching in the dark.
The wry sound pulls at the hot sear down my side. I wince and turn away from him, so he can’t see the pain twisting across my face.
I feel, rather than see, him shift around me along the rough edge of the wall—and the warmth of a near touch hovering at the small of my back before it vanishes.
“Sorry.” There’s a thread of real regret softening the roughness of his voice.
Wolf twists past me and leads the way deeper into the tunnel stretching out ahead of us. A faint light glows from somewhere deep inside the tunnel, and there’s just enough of a haunting glow to make out the way his tense gaze keeps shifting back to watch me.
I draw in a breath. “I wasn’t talking about the vial of antidote.”
Even in the shadows, I see the muscles across his shoulders and neck go taut. How both hands brush the hilts of the dozen blades sheathed up and down his ribs, and the short sword down his side that’s compact enough to draw in tunnels just like this.
The path begins to climb, the incline subtle but enough to make the breath come quicker from my lungs. “I saw the vial of magic.”
Wolf shoots a glance back at me. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“It looks exactly like the one you gave me for my sister.” I fight the strain on my aching limbs as the incline gets steeper. “How do you have more of it? I’m not a fool, you know.”
Tell me about the Seven Wells, I want to urge him.
Tell me the truth.
He arches a brow. “Yet twice in two weeks, I find you nearly dead.”
“Because of a deal I made with you.”
Is that… amusement flaring in his eyes? Or frustration? Both?
“Don’t worry.” Whatever flickered through his green gaze shutters in the next heartbeat. “The Assay will be over soon enough.”
My stomach roils at the thought of the third—and final—test.
There’s been no letter from the High Queen’s secretary, no clue for when the Test of Strength will be. And Old Ones, I’m not ready.
Not with my hands still like this.
“What do you know about it?” My voice sounds small in the swell of the flickering darkness. I force steel into it, if only to calm my own thundering heart. “The last test.”
“Nothing.” There’s a tinge of rough regret behind his words as he rakes a hand through his dark hair. “And not for lack of trying.”
I can’t help but wonder what that trying actually entails.
I can’t imagine him letting go of his secrets, that hard shield he keeps around himself. But if what Cashel said is true, maybe he did once. And he paid the price.
Wolf navigates the tunnel by what seems like memory. There’s no way to tell which direction we’re going apart from the growing burn in my calves and thighs from the steepening incline, and I muffle a hiss of pain at the sear down my ribs as I try to draw a deep breath.
His hand twitches at his side at the sound, inching back just a fraction before he clenches it and runs those long fingers over the rough walls.
Eventually, the incline evens out. Wolf runs his hand along the hollowed-out stone a few feet in front of me and pushes back a scrap of fabric that rustles at his touch.
Shards of light scatter in long lines over the stone underfoot.
My eyes protest, then adjust as he waves me closer to his side.
“Hurry.” Wolf holds the fabric back as I follow him out. “This part of the castle’s pretty much deserted now, but you never know who’s slinking around.”
“Adulterers and assassins,” I mutter under my breath, and his lips twitch.
“Excuse me?”
Heat rises up the back of my neck. “Nothing. Just… inside joke.”
A flicker of curiosity flares in his eyes. “With Talon?”
“Cashel,” I answer bluntly, and those eyes flash. “Weren’t you the one who said I’m exactly his type?”
“That’s not what I—” He lets out a heavy breath, then grits his teeth and throttles whatever thoughts churn behind his eyes. “Never mind.”
Satisfaction curls through my core at the rare glimpse of him unsettled.
The corridor he leads me out into is empty and as still as midnight.
Motes of dust tickle my nose. The iron candle holders mounted on the sides of the narrow hall are coated in thick layers of grime, and slats of wood haphazardly cover a leaded glass window at the end.
Jagged slashes of light manage to bleed through.
Wolf leads me toward where the wall—scarred by the marks of conflict, the long slashes of heavy swords—opens into a narrow, twisting staircase.
My stomach clamps at the steep pitch of the steps, a spiral disappearing up into the darkness, with narrow slices of light breaking the shadows every ten feet or so.
Wolf takes the steps like they’re nothing.
He lingers, though, waiting every few moments for me to catch up since the staircase is too narrow to climb side by side. He’s watching me, just close enough to reach out if I ask for a hand.
“What floor is this?” There’s no hiding the strain in my tone, or the flicker deceptively close to concern in his eyes as he glances over his shoulder to me, slowing his pace ever so slightly.
My thigh muscles burn, pushing me up the final steps, and the spiral climb ends in a tight alcove.
It’s barely large enough for two to stand in front of a wooden door the color of faded green ink that waits with a simple iron latch and a heavy brass knocker almost identical to the one on the Whisperers’ safe house in the merchant quarter.
Wolf pauses at the door, gaze darting to me and forehead creasing in a frown.
After a moment, he reaches under the neck of his leather jacket and pulls out a thin chain with a key he fits into the knob, and shoves his shoulder against the door.
With a groan, the wood yields to him.
Green eyes find mine, and the flicker of doubt there—of fear—steals my breath.
He offers out a hand, and there’s nothing mocking in the way he looks at me. No dare or challenge. Instead, there’s only a question, silent but wavering in the dusty air.
Will you trust me?
I swallow down the brush of matching fear wrapping around me, try to ignore the trembling warmth gathering low and insistent in my core, and bring my hand to his.
Surprise flares in Wolf’s gaze. His rough, warm grip tightens around mine.
And I let him lead me through.