Chapter 39
CHAPTER 39
B locks from the parlor, Eleksi and Davron were intercepted by Riella and Jarin.
“There’s been a raid,” said Riella urgently, her hair in tangles. Jarin’s nose was pouring blood and face was mottled with purple bruising. “We tried to stop them,” she said. “We fought.”
The siren had pulled Davron and Eleksi into the alleyway as a ruby dusk settled over the city.
“We considered following them,” said Jarin, his face creased with guilt. “But we know where they’re taking Neve and Amelie. We thought it better to convene with you first. I’m so sorry.”
Eleksi shook his head. “I never should’ve left Neve. It’s not your fault.”
“I was foolish to believe Meliohr would not have found them.” Pacing the narrow space, Davron growled. “I did think we’d have more time, though.” He turned, his gaze resting on the golden turrets of the palace in the distance. “Let us go, then. To the palace. We rescue Amelie and Neve, and liberate my uncle from the jaws of that Garstang vampire.”
Together, the four traveled swiftly through the darkening streets toward the palace. Eleksi didn’t dare speak aloud the horrifying possibility that Neve and Amelie might not be alive. But given Davron’s scowl and frantic speed, the same concern dwelled on his mind.
“We shall enter the palace via the tunnels,” said Davron, quickening his long stride. “I know one that surfaces in a courtyard near the dungeons.” He grunted. “Unless it has been filled in.”
“It hasn’t,” answered Eleksi and Jarin, both at once.
The prince managed a wry half-smile. “My cousin found knowledgable allies, it would seem.”
“Friends,” corrected Riella. “We are Neve’s friends, and we are lucky to know her. She and Amelie are alive, I am sure of it.”
“I want to believe that,” said Davron as they carved a line through the bustling early evening crowds on the street. “But how can you be sure?”
“If a swift death for Neve was Meliohr’s wish at this stage, she would’ve done it at the parlor, quietly, with assassins,” said Jarin. “I’d wager she knows you’re back, Davron, and wants to lure you—the heir—to the palace.”
“Using Amelie and Neve as bait,” replied the prince.
“Aye. The very public ambush on the parlor was about ensuring you heard of it.”
“Message received,” said Eleksi in a waspish voice. “If Meliohr wants a fight, she will have one.”
What he didn’t share with his new friends was that if Meliohr murdered Neve, he’d no longer care about preventing diplomatic catastrophe with Morktland. He’d mount the queen’s head on a spike for the whole city to see. And if Reynard set foot in Klatos, Eleksi would do the same to him.
With every passing minute, the city streets became more abuzz with rumors of the raid and the prince’s return. The element of surprise was well and truly lost to them. Eleksi was relieved, in a way. It meant he didn’t have to exercise restraint when it came to violence.
They entered the tunnels under the gathering dark of the night, Jarin lighting the way with a torch, and ran the distance to the palace.
“We’re nearly there,” he said when the passageway began sloping upward.
“Once inside, we shouldn’t split up again,” said Eleksi. “That was our error at the parlor.”
“Agreed,” said Riella. “From now on, we fight side by side.”
Regret churned Eleksi’s stomach. Contracting the Spider Kings en masse had seemed like a good idea at the time, but events were progressing faster than foreseen. Leaving Neve may’ve been a critical mistake.
The group climbed worn stone steps single-file to a trapdoor. Davron threw open the door and they emerged into an overgrown greenhouse. Rows and rows of plants spread freely over the shelves and floor, and vines slithered up the smeared glass walls toward the ceiling.
Through the glass, an opal moon glowed in the sky.
The greenhouse sat on a lawn opposite a courtyard, which was brightly lit and populated with columns of armed and uniformed men standing at attention. The sight filled Eleksi with dread.
Riella squinted. “Those aren’t royal guards. Their uniforms are blue and white. Are they Zermetic soldiers ?”
“That they are,” replied Davron, an uneasy note in his deep voice. “During peacetime, which we supposedly are in, they patrol our borders and assist when natural disasters strike. For them to be called to the palace and put in formation is . . . unusual.”
The soldiers weren’t the only anomaly. Servants moved in harried groups, whispering to one another and disappearing into doorways. At second glance, Eleksi realized some were carrying weapons. The entire place had an air of jittery anticipation.
“I believe Meliohr called the soldiers home to quell a possible rebellion,” said Jarin. “It’s been brewing for some time. News of your return, Davron, has galvanized people.”
The prince was silent for a moment, watching the servants with a complicated expression of fear and pride. How must it feel to return home after a decade, only to find the palace under oppressive rule from an enemy? And to have the opportunity to fight to reclaim it?
The soldiers let out a synchronized roar, elicited by a commander beyond Eleksi’s line of sight.
“Come,” said Eleksi, pushing through the glass door and starting across the dark, dewy lawn. “Neve and Amelie need us.”
They slipped into the palace on the ground floor, joining the growing streams of servants. Royal guards were attempting to order the palace staff back to work, to no avail.
“—breaking out,” one servant man was saying to another. “They’re sending more guards to the dungeons to shore up defenses.”
Eleksi and Davron looked at each other, then quickened their gaits. Once the prince was recognized within palace walls, bedlam would ensue. They had to reunite with Neve and Amelie before that happened, and it was only a matter of time before a long-serving employee peered closer at the gigantic scarred man hiding beneath his hooded cloak.
The prince eyed the guards warily. “They are avoiding engaging the servants in combat for now,” he muttered. “But we can’t rely on that to last.”
If he felt glad to be back inside his home, he did not show it. He paid no attention to the plush surroundings, nor the vast oil paintings on the walls of his ancestors. Amelie was clearly his only preoccupation.
“Nikolaou!” came a ringing yell from a corridor on the right.
It was Perris, the head royal guard, his uniform sharp and his dark hair slightly askew. He was flanked by two of his men, who stood with weapons half drawn in the middle of the blue-carpeted corridor. Servants hurried around them, reacting to hearing the Nikolaou name with a mixture of puzzlement and glee.
Davron strode toward Perris, with Eleksi, Riella, and Jarin right behind him.
“Where are they?” demanded the prince, his gargantuan fists clenched. “The two women abducted on the queen’s orders.”
Perris lifted his chin haughtily. “They are being held securely. We will release both women if you present yourself to Queen Meliohr. I am to bring you to Her Majesty.”
“Oh, I am looking for her, too,” said Davron in his sonorous voice. “But first, release the prisoners who languish in the dungeons at her behest. All of them.”
“It was him,” said Riella with a snarl, pointing a slender finger at Perris. “He’s the one who dragged Neve from the parlor unconscious.”
“Tell us—” started Davron.
But Eleksi had already made a decision, and carried it out.
In one swift movement he’d flown at Perris, his black cloak billowing, and cut the man’s throat open with his golden dagger. Scarlet droplets rained down on the carpet and splattered the paintings on the nearest wall. Perris fell to his knees briefly before pitching forward, dead.
“Gods,” exclaimed Davron. “You are faster than fast.”
The other two guards drew their swords. But instead of advancing, they backed away, eyeballs popping with alarm.
“Be calm,” said Eleksi coolly to the men as he wiped his blade clean on the back of Perris’s uniform. “Tell us what we want to know.”
“They’re in the dungeons,” said one guard, his mustache quivering. “The women were taken to the dungeons.”
“And Meliohr?” prompted Davron, taking a threatening step forward.
“We don’t know, I swear it,” said the other. “Perris was the only one she trusted. We’ve not seen her since midday. She heard of an assault being mounted on the palace, and hid. But not before her armed forces arrived. They prepare for combat in the courtyard. Combat with you .”
“So we saw,” replied Davron drily.
Eleksi recognized he ought to have extracted Meliohr’s location from Perris before killing him. But something came over him when he learned the guard was the one to hurt Neve. He could not tolerate the man who committed such an act to take another breath.
“Uh, apologies for my haste,” he said to Davron.
But the prince dismissed his words with a wave of his hand. “I understand you completely. We will find Meliohr, fear not.”
“Give me your sword,” said Davron to one of the guards.
After a moment of hesitation, the man removed his belt and passed the weapon to Davron, who put it on.
He turned, heading in the direction of the dungeons. Riella gave one last withering glare at Perris’s body and followed. As the group walked away, one of the guards called out.
“The west tower.” His gloved fingers fretted at the golden fringe of his uniform. “We don’t know Meliohr’s location. But we do know the king is in the west tower.”
Davron glared at the man for a moment. The guard dropped his knee and inclined his head to bow to the prince. The other guard looked around nervously before doing the same. At their feet, Perris’s blood pooled outward, darkening the carpet to burgundy.
Davron acknowledged their gesture with a stiff nod, then continued on his way.
Through a gray stone archway, chaotic shouting surrounded the entrance to the dungeons. Palace workers armed with knives and rocks and hatchets were pushing against a line of royal guards, who held up shields and barked at the angry people to disperse. Beyond the guards, the black iron door to the dungeons was firmly closed.
Eleksi and his friends joined the fray, trying to push their way to the front.
“Free our families!” shouted the workers, throwing loose rocks that collided with shields and guards’ helms. “You cowards! Traitors to your people!”
Someone hurled a large chunk of stone across the line, hitting a guard in the side of the face and making him stagger. The other rebelling servants roared in approval.
As the crowd pressed forward as one, Eleksi felt himself be borne as if on a wave. The guards reacted in kind, striking out at the servants with their weapons and shields.
“Let us through!” bellowed Davron.
As loud as he was, his voice only added to the deafening cacophony. They would have to fight their way to the front, like everyone else. Eleksi prayed no guards were frantically relocating Neve and Amelie in response to the gathering siege. Although, the royal guards were on the verge of overwhelm—surely they’d spared precious few men to remain inside the dungeons.
Another roar erupted from the crowd and Eleksi craned his neck to see what had caused the reaction.
Under the shifting firelight, the iron door opened, and his heart felt as though it would implode from happiness and relief.
Neve stood in the doorway, beautiful and deadly in her black robes, her lips blood-red and her cheeks flushed. Her dark eyes roved the crowd, locking with Eleksi’s in moments. They shared a smile through the raging mayhem.
Behind her, Amelie beamed and waved at Davron, who let out a cry of relief.
The breaching of the dungeon door filled the crowd with fresh determination. They pushed forward with feral screams, overwhelming the line of guards. Neve and Amelie darted out of the way, pressing themselves to the stone wall and edging sideways until they could be reunited with their group.
Eleksi ran at Neve and picked her up, holding her tightly in his arms.
“Thank the gods you’re alive,” he said into her cinnamon-scented hair.
He set her down and looked her over, noting with immense relief that she appeared unharmed. In fact, she positively vibrated with vitality and power. Something had happened. Something . . . magical.
She looked up at him, the corner of her mouth curving into a knowing smile.
It was only then he noticed the necklace she wore. Silver with dark red stones. Where on earth had that come from?
But there was no time for questions. The confrontation between the workers and the guards had turned into a full-blown riot. Reinforcements poured in for both sides, from all directions. Regular, plain-clothed residents of Klatos joined the ranks of the servants, intent on freeing their imprisoned family members.
“Where is Meliohr?” asked Neve, looking from Eleksi to Davron in worry. “Please tell me you know. We need to end this.” She glanced around at the growing melee. “Or many people will die.”
“We don’t know yet,” said Davron, pushing his hood off. “But we will find her. First, we need to get to the west tower. There is someone you should meet, Neve.”