Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
T he cellar’s crystal-cold air chilled Neve to the bone.
To warm herself, she paced the cramped alcoves and walkways, her boots quiet on the packed-earth floor.
The chances of her mission succeeding felt painfully slim. What if she had to use her killing ability? What if she had to use it on the queen ?
If Neve’s life was threatened, she mightn’t have a choice. Her persistent nerves had less to do with her safety and more with maintaining control over her deadly magic. The image of Eleksi’s life-drained face was burned into her mind’s eye.
In the shepherd’s hut, he’d taken her by surprise with his confession about killing the wrong man. Somehow, she didn’t imagine the cool, calm Eleksi to have doubts about anything.
She wanted to know more about him. Incredibly, he already knew her worst, most shameful secret, and he seemed unfazed by it. It was a new experience, to feel like she could be herself around somebody. Like perhaps her darkest secrets didn’t make her irredeemably damaged after all.
Eleksi thought he was a monster, but that wasn’t what she saw when she looked at him. What if her self-perception was faulty, too? Perhaps she ought to be learning about her abilities instead of shunning them.
In her restless state, Neve’s pacing became faster. On the lowest and quietest level of the cellar, she forced herself to stop and breathe. The barrels of wine were tapped, and she fetched a lathed wooden cup from atop a barrel and poured a measure of the burgundy liquid into it.
The wine was warm and spicy on her throat as she gulped.
Drinking in excess tended to addle a mage’s mystical energy. So, with a fair amount of reluctance, she put the cup down. Showing up drunk to her own corpse-confirmation would be a poor idea.
As she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, a peculiar noise caught her attention.
There was a dull, repetitive thudding nearby, without apparent cause. In an attempt to locate the sound, she took a few steps forward. The thuds became quieter.
Slowly, she turned and progressed along the walkway while the sound became louder, before it began fading again. She walked backward one step at a time until she found the spot where it was loudest.
Perhaps it was the strange acoustics of the underground, but the noise seemed to come from behind the wall, which held shelves of wine bottles. When she tried to find a route through the maze-like walkways to reach the noise, she couldn’t.
Was an animal burrowing into the ground? Or perhaps she was simply losing her mind.
Pressing her ear against the shelves, she strained her hearing. The entire wall suddenly gave way, swinging forward and nearly making her fall. A concealed door led into a room the size of a wardrobe, with rocky walls.
“What the blazing hells are you doing?” came an enraged male voice from inside.
Looking as shocked as Neve felt, a gray-haired man wielding a shovel glared at her. His face was heavily bruised. There was a mound of dirt at his feet, and a single candle flickered from the corner, emphasizing the deep lines of his face.
What had she managed to stumble upon? Should she run? Apologize? Blast the man with magic?
“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” she said, backing into the hallway. “I heard noises and came to investigate. Please, continue with your . . . activity.”
“Investigate?” He raised the shovel higher. “Who are you?” he demanded with a heaving chest. He seemed half out of his mind with fatigue and fear. “Who sent you?”
“No one sent me.” She pressed her palms together in a prayer position, hoping to reassure him that she meant no harm. “I heard you by chance.”
The man took a menacing step toward her and she resolved that she’d have to either run or use magic on him. But she didn’t want to leave the cellar, because how would Eleksi find her? And she needed to conserve her magical energy.
A disembodied voice spoke.
“Papa?”
The voice was high and thin—belonging to a child, Neve realized. Her gaze traveled from the shovel to the mound of dirt, and finally, to the deep crevice in the earthen wall behind the man. Comprehension dawned on her.
“You’re trying to burrow through,” she said in amazement.
The man ignored her, speaking at the wall.
“I’m here,” he called. “I’m coming. Please hold on.”
He returned his attention to Neve, his pale face streaked with dirt and sweat. “I don’t have time to waste. If you mean to turn me in, I beg that you delay.”
“I won’t turn you in. Of course I won’t.” She paused. “But what are you doing? Is that a child?”
“Aye. My son and daughter.” He looked her up and down and turned back to the wall, seeming to decide that Neve was not a threat. Or at least, not a bigger threat than whatever he was dealing with. “They’re locked in the dungeons and I’m freeing them. If you don’t mind, you’re in the way.”
Without waiting for an answer, he leveled a blow at the crater in the wall, making his shoulders jar. A small wedge of earth fell to the pile. The man would be here forever at this rate.
“Would you like me to try?” she asked.
He glanced back. “Not meaning any disrespect, but you don’t look any stronger than I am.” His breath caught as he inhaled dust, causing him to splutter. “But, perhaps I could use the help.”
Stepping past Neve, he handed the shovel to her. In the hallway, he leaned forward on his knees and struggled for breath. He was clearly exhausted, and only desperation was keeping him upright.
Neve swung the shovel at the wall, making another chunk of dirt fall to the pile. After two more swings, enough earth came away to let through a whistle of air. The child’s voice was clearer and louder.
“Hurry!” said the boy. “The guards will return soon.”
Neve swung the shovel.
“Why are they in the dungeons?” she asked the man, concerned at how young the boy sounded. Imprisoning children was against the law in Zermes.
“I betrayed the Crown,” said the man, coughing. “I worked in the kitchens. Helped our network get a message out of the palace for the king. Before I could pass off the message, I was caught by guards loyal to her. They bludgeoned me and my wife. Took my kids as punishment.”
“Her?” Neve stopped mid-swing, whipping around to face the man. “You mean Queen Meliohr?”
“Aye, the very same. She only keeps the kids alive to ensure our silence.”
Neve’s insides burned with rage. Of course a woman who sent assassins after her husband’s kin would’ve committed other crimes. There was far more at stake than Neve’s life—anyone who might oppose Meliohr was at risk.
Directing her ire at the wall, Neve swung the shovel harder. Another drift of dirt fell away, revealing the frightened, grubby little face of a boy.
“Please,” he begged Neve. “They’re coming. I can hear them on the stairs.”
Galvanized by the sight of his child, the man snatched the shovel from her. She backed away while he took a huge swing at the wall, grunting with the effort. But the crevice wasn’t widening fast enough—the children would never get through in time.
A girl screamed on the other side. The sound ignited magic inside of Neve, searing and potent. The vivid red energy swelled in her chest and yearned for release.
She lifted her hands, her fingertips flickering with black and red light.
“Get out of the way!” she said to the man.
The magic changed her voice, making it unearthly and deep. He looked at her in alarm, then promptly dropped the shovel and squeezed past her into the hallway. She heard the little boy urge his sister back from the wall on the other side.
Neve directed a surge of pure destructive energy from her chest, down her arms, and through her hands. The ball of red and black light collided with the wall in an explosion of rocks and dirt. Brute-force magic was less precise than casting a specific spell, but when the goal was to blow apart a rocky wall, brute force did just fine.
Coughing, she covered her face with her arm. The man was already pushing his way back inside, reaching for his children. She’d created a gap large enough for them to climb into.
The little girl put her hand through as the guards’ furious shouts came from within the dungeons. The man gripped her skinny wrist and pulled. A filthy, barefooted girl squeezed through the crevice, followed by the boy, who was equally dirty and nursed an injured arm.
A guard’s face, contorted with anger, appeared at the gap. “You’ll hang for this, Danior! You and your brats!”
Neve put her arm around the girl’s shoulders, drawing her away from the tiny room. The man called Danior did the same with his son, and pulled the concealed door closed behind them. Muffled shouting continued from the guards for a few moments, then stopped.
With a chill, Neve realized that meant the guards had abandoned the hole to give chase. They’d know the gap led to the cellar, of course. It was only a matter of time before they arrived.
The girl shivered against Neve, and the boy winced as his father inspected his arm.
“The guards will be here shortly enough,” said Danior to Neve. “But they’ll be delayed by our folk.”
“Your folk?” Neve squeezed her eyes closed momentarily, disoriented and dizzy from casting magic.
“Those of us who’re loyal to the Nikolaou family,” he explained, helping his son to stand straight.
Neve forced her mind to work. “You said you ferried a message for the king,” she said as she hurried after Danior and the children up the walkway. “I don’t suppose you can tell me what the message said? I, um?—”
She bit her lip. Although she felt sure she could trust Danior, revealing that she was the king’s offspring could put him and his children in even more danger.
“Aye, I can tell you.” He gave a humorless laugh. “I may as well shout it from the rooftops now. The message came from King Leonid and warned Prince Davron to stay away from Klatos at all costs. But Meliohr’s men intercepted me. I was supposed to meet with the prince’s esquire down at the docks, last moon cycle. Red-haired Velandian chap. I’d wager they passed off their own message to the esquire and he was none the wiser. Gods only know what it said. Meliohr’s been monitoring the king’s correspondence since before the wedding. Blood-sucking leech, she is.”
Neve’s head reeled. Prince Davron was in terrible danger, and he possibly had no idea. If Meliohr had sent an assassin to kill Leonid’s illegitimate daughter, what measures would she have taken against the prince and rightful heir to the throne?
A servant carrying a torch hurried down nearby stairs toward them. Her gray hair was in a tight bun and her gaze was sharp. She glanced at Neve before addressing Danior.
“We’ve a cart ready for your departure. You’re safe now. Come.”
Danior picked up his daughter, and then turned to Neve.
“I owe you. I shan’t forget it.” He inclined his head at the woman. “If she needs anything, Laurel?—”
He faltered, his eyes moving past Laurel and widening in fear.