Chapter 20
Screams, shouts, curses.
They all echoed with a vengeance out of the ballroom and into the halls. In the distance, the Relaclave city bell began ringing. Three heavy pulls on the rope, the hammer of the bell swinging in response. One long pause, then three more deafening peals laying waste to the security of the Crown.
Elysia scrambled to her feet, the tulle of her dress ripping in the process. She could feel the vibration of stampeding feet out in the hallway—likely the guards rushing to find the king. Time for me to go.
There was only one reason this specific bell pattern was ever engaged. It wasn’t the mellow noontime chime that happened daily or the merry ring of celebration. It was sharp and deliberate, meant to catch every ear and turn every face to the castle.
Treason was afoot within the city. The Crown was under attack.
Within minutes, the entrances to the castle would be sealed, and no one would be exiting or entering.
Garrison pulled out a long, thin dagger from inside his black and red jacket. He looked down the hall into the eye of the hurricane, then back to Topp. “Do something with her. Her head’s not on right and we don’t need her getting trampled. Then find me.”
The sound of groans and retching overtook the screams. Elysia grimaced, knowing the worst was yet to come. Mouth set in determination, the king walked out the door, when suddenly he clutched his own stomach, his back rounding as he let out a throaty grunt. A look of confusion marred his face. But there wasn’t time for questions, not when the treason bells were ringing. Straightening, he barreled down the hall and out of sight.
That’s my cue. But before she could cut away, Topp grabbed hold of her elbow, not bothering to look back as he broke into a run, pulling her along. Her feet complied given her choice was to either run or be dragged behind him. She stumbled, glancing over shoulder, cringing at the sound of bile splattering and pained cries echoing.
Topp’s grip tightened, his voice hard. “ Move , Elysia.”
Guards pounded past, sweaty and red, forcing him to shove through like they were going upstream. Elysia yanked against Topp’s hold, but his grip was a manacle. He shot her an annoyed look.
“Knock it off, will you?” His eyes were distracted, though, searching the surge of oncoming men.
One hand on her, his other snapped out, grasping a guard by the collar of his shirt. The man lurched back, his momentum cut short by Topp’s hold. The prince dragged them both now, barking out an order to the man.
“You’re with me, Lewis. Now keep up.”
The guard changed course without a blink, taking up the rear and watching their backs.
A quick glance told her it was one of Topp’s usual guards, one of the few he allowed near his rooms and even sometimes had a drink with in Relaclave. Frustration scrunched her face. The doors were being sealed, and it looked like she was about to be stuck with a babysitter. Great.
Elysia huffed, lungs burning and feeling cross from the unexpected exertion. She considered herself reasonably fit, but sprinting up several flights of stairs into the turret where Topp lived would knock the air out of anyone. Unless your name was Topp, of course. The man didn’t appear winded in the slightest. Ridiculous.
Elysia leaned against the cool wall, panting. She hated these stairs. Stone and unforgiving, only a masochist would make you run up them. Topp ignored her heavy breathing, his eyes darting around like whoever had poisoned the court might appear out of thin air.
Shoving a key into the door for his rooms, he unlocked it. Arm suddenly wrapped around her waist, he herded her inside in front of him. Snarling one last order, he followed her in. “Lewis, man the door.”
And with that, he slammed the door shut. Lights flicked on, a soft hum filled the room as they warmed.
His fingers, still covered in a dead man’s blood, were on her neck in an instant, gentle and efficient as he examined her. He stepped back, seemingly satisfied.
“Stay. Here.” He bit the words off, giving her a look before spinning around to leave.
Elysia stared at his back in bewilderment. The words were out before she could stop them.
“Excuse me?”
Topp stopped, his olive shirt rippling like water against his back as he breathed. Turning, his eyes latched onto hers, body taut like a bowstring. Her heart stilled. She had thought it a trick of the light earlier, but his green eyes were practically aglow in the evening light. She swallowed but did not move.
His voice was the sound of an animal pushed past their patience. “Tell me, was it for your father? Or just some harebrained vigilante justice for the House’s woman? Why did you go after him, Elysia?”
Two long strides and he was there, hands grasping her wrists firmly. His brows drew together, incredulousness lifting his voice. “Do you have any idea how many women have met the undead gods because of that man? And you, you?—”
He broke away from her, wrenching open the door like he couldn’t stand the sight of her for one more second.
Lewis balked, his hand posed to rap on the rich walnut wood. “Sir, Benedict just reported that almost every person in attendance has taken ill. Even the king has fallen.”
Another guard loomed over Lewis’s shoulder, sweaty and out of breath.
Topp looked back at Elysia, his eyes narrowing in sudden suspicion. “You know, Lewis, I feel a touch of it myself. Benedict, you’re with me. Lewis, you’re staying here.” Grabbing his favorite hatchets off the wall, he slung on a leather harness and stuck them in. Worn steel glinted against the green of his shirt, and Elysia swallowed. Forget looking royal, he looked like a warrior of the woods.
“No one comes in or out of this room until I return, and that includes Miss Parker.” He glared at her knowingly before facing the guards again. “Benedict, go ahead. I’ll be right behind you.”
The guards complied, and Topp stalked out, whipping the door shut without looking back.
Elysia stood there alone, unease filling her chest. Guilt was such a sticky, inconvenient emotion. One she didn’t have time for tonight. A twinge of pain ran up her back into her neck and she grimaced.
Her father’s anger was a gross, misplaced thing. Logically, she knew that. Emotionally, that was a different story. But Topp —he was not so far off in his conclusions that she was playing some sort of lone, dangerous game. That she was in over her head and leaving a trail of destruction throughout Relaclave.
She should have pretended to be sick—but he’d dragged her up here so fast, and she’d been worrying about escaping instead of him. Fuck. That was a mistake. But it was too late to fix it now.
She pressed a firm hand to her sternum, but it did nothing to quell the uncomfortable feeling that she might be wrong about Topp. He’d beaten a man to death. Stuck up for her to her father and the king. Put his hand on her head and gently stroked her hair.
Elysia bit her lip, not wanting to think about it anymore. Looking around Topp’s chambers, she frowned, noting the utter state of disarray. He wasn’t usually this messy. Blankets, clothes, food. It looked like a toddler had been set free without supervision.
She picked up a fuzzy coffee-colored blanket, tossing it onto a chair. Two things could be true at once, she reminded herself. His feelings for her and whatever his plans were that she knew nothing about. Even if he hadn’t meant to, he’d told her himself that she couldn’t trust him. The reality check that was her conversation with Gage reinforced this truth. Topp had helped find and brutally eliminate her kind. It was as simple as that.
Whatever his feelings for her may be, it did not and could not matter more than that truth.
Elysia picked up a marine blue shirt and held it to her nose, breathing him in. Still clutching the shirt, her eyes drifted to his bed in the next room over. Between his scent in her nose and the familiarity of these rooms, a warm nostalgia rocked through her.
A longing for the days when this had all been easy. Days spent in a happy haze. Days when she was able to forget about her father and the curse all because she’d be seeing him later that night. Blissful delusion.
They had known each other since childhood. Been together since she was twenty. What did it say that neither of them was willing to trust the other?
She dropped the shirt—she didn’t want to know the answer to that question.
Besides, she needed to focus on her own plans, never mind his. She should be elated right now. Tonight had been a magnificent disaster. No one would point the finger at her about Scarzan, seeing as how the entire court watched the prince kill the man. Which meant no one would be the wiser that she had poisoned the entire guest list. Her debt was paid to the House, and with the entire castle distracted, she was free to pursue what really mattered: those idiots and their secret little rebel group.
Once more, her only true fear was the prince outing her. And that’s for me to worry about later. She paused, a decision settling like a rock in her gut. She would talk to him. After tonight, she would talk to him. She didn’t have to trust him to talk about what he already knew—and she deserved some answers. Like what he intended to do with her.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow, she would seek him out. Dangerous hope flickered in her, and tonight, she let it be. If he dashed it out tomorrow, then so be it. Tonight, she would hope.
That settled, Elysia slipped a hand beneath her skirts, popping open the small pouch attached to the holster for her knife. Conch shell from Mari in the palm of her hand, her brows rose in surprise. Empty before, it now housed a tiny slip of paper. She ran her thumb over the smooth shell in wonder.
It’s magic. She never allowed herself to think much about magic. What Kava used to be like, what it could have been like. But here was someone’s magic, right in the palm of her hand. Ever so carefully, she wiggled the paper free. Scribed in black ink was a simple message.
Below the docks where the sailors roam, but never does a fish swim.
Her hand flung down to her side, message in hand. They could not be serious. She’d poisoned the entire godsdamned court and this was their idea of giving directions? The paper crumpled in her hand. There was nothing but air and water beneath the docks! All this and they couldn’t bother to give her a proper address.
Grumbling, she pulled out the coin Rollie had given her, hoping they were connected. Coin in hand, she began to pace, stress driving her to movement. Suddenly, a small ball of fur lunged, tiny bandit fingers swiping like an expert thief. Elysia shrieked, darting back from the creature. Breath coming quick and fast now, it took her a moment to realize what had happened. A raccoon had just stolen her ticket for entrance.
“You little asshole!”
She bounded after it, but the small raccoon scuttled away. Prize secured, it dove onto Topp’s sheets, making small pleased noises as it rolled.
For the love of the undead gods. That’s why it was such a mess in here. Elysia rubbed the edges of her eyes, smearing makeup she had forgotten about. The creature was holding the coin up to the light like it was gold. In anyone else’s chambers, a raccoon mugging you would be unexpected. But not here. Not in Topp’s rooms.
She had always found it charming. Coming into his chambers and finding a new creature to adore. The passion he lacked for politics could be found tenfold when it came to rehabilitating animals. Squirrels. Birds. A fox once—but he’d had to move the fox to its own special pen after it marked and tore up every square inch of his rooms. He hadn’t minded, though. No, he had sympathized with the beast, always commiserating with it about what it was to be locked inside. Both a little wild, only one allowed to be.
But that raccoon had just stolen her coin.
She stalked softly toward the bed, trying to mimic whatever ease it was that Topp carried within him. The raccoon watched her with big black-rimmed eyes and a tilted head. It plopped back onto its haunches, and Elysia realized that it only had three limbs.
“You’re very nimble and extra cunning, aren’t you, little friend?” she murmured, creeping closer. A red collar with a wooden tag adorned its neck. Because, of course, he had given it a collar. Such a weird man. Grabbing a piece of fruit off a plate that had likely been Topp’s breakfast, she broke it open and waved it enticingly.
“Come here,” she breathed. “Nice and easy.”
The raccoon squinted and appeared to be considering her offer, but instead of dropping the coin from its one good hand, it merely stuck out a bottom foot as if she would place the fruit there. When she didn’t, it bared its little fangs and hissed.
By the gods. She was going to kill Topp. Elysia shook her head.
“Greedy thing, aren’t you?”
She dropped the fruit onto the bed where the creature gladly used its bottom foot to shove juicy chunks of fruit into its mouth. Fist in the air, the coin gleamed between its small black fingers.
New plan. She wasn’t Topp, born to woo woodland creatures. And she didn’t have time to be nice .
Ripping open his wardrobe, she snatched a rough-spun cloth bag from the bottom. It smelled like hay and animals. She did not have time for any of this. Glancing to the bed, she found the raccoon immersed in licking its dripping, sugared foot.
“Sorry, buddy.” As fast as she could, Elysia snatched the raccoon up by the scruff of its neck. It dangled there in surprise, blinking at her. “You’re just a big, thieving cat.”
She shoved it into the bag.
The screech it emitted next was unlike anything she’d ever heard.
It was the sound of two starving cats tearing each other apart over garbage in a smelly alley. She dropped the bag with a curse. The raccoon promptly shut up and rolled out to a sitting position where it glared at her with baleful eyes.
She was about to give up and leave without the damn coin, when her eyes caught on what she realized was a long skinny leash resting on Topp’s nightstand. Red and leather, it matched the collar.
Leash in hand, she raised her brows at the raccoon. Once more, she lunged, grabbing the collar even as the raccoon thrashed, throwing its small, fat body around. Tiny vicious claws swiped out, leaving thin red lines along her arms. Scratched and out of breath, Elysia stood up with a grin.
“Got you.”
The racoon hissed, jumping into an offensive posture.
Elysia glared right back. “You’re nothing more than an overgrown cat, and I’ve had to bathe and deal with cats aplenty.”
The tag on its collar caught the light. Crudely carved, it spelled out a name. Lina.
“Well, Lina”—Elysia smiled dangerously at the squat ball of fur—“I do believe we have somewhere to be.”
She had to laugh a little that Topp sincerely thought putting a single guard in front of his door would keep her from escaping.
“ Stay in the room, Elysia,” she mocked . Snorting, she kicked a half eaten apple out of her way. Like a door and a guard would stop her. As if she didn’t know there were three separate exits from his room.
The main door. The window—which would be a death trap without the proper equipment for wall scaling. And the exit into the one place she had been traversing for years, the tunnels.
Elysia heaved, putting all her weight into moving the low slate table that sat in the middle of his living space. Books about animal welfare and a stack of paper with barely legible scrawls went flying. With a final grunt, the table was out of the way. Flopping the heavy brown and burgundy rug in half, she stared at the stone floor.
“There you are,” she whispered. Dropping to her knees, she pried at the ancient stone. She hadn’t used this exit in ages. It wasn’t exactly subtle. But she’d discovered it one early morning, when Topp had left her warm and satisfied in his bed. Snooping was in her blood, and he should have known better than to leave her alone if he didn’t want her going through his things. She wasn’t sure he even knew this existed. People really should pay more attention.
The stone gave way, revealing old rusty hinges and a pitch-black hole. Everything in her wanted to slam the stone down, and try her luck with Lewis at the door. She hated this route. Several floors up in a turret, it wasn’t easy getting down to the tunnels.
She stared down into the hole, scowling. A barely human sized crawl space crunched between the floors of the castle. And she had to take a fucking raccoon with her.
Elysia stood back up and brushed herself off, her stomach dropping at the sight of the clock. Soot and storms, it was getting late. She hastily grabbed a plain black cloak from Topp’s wardrobe, throwing it on over her ruined dress. The smell of rain and earth surrounded her, but she pretended not to notice.
“Alright, Lina, it’s time for us to go.” Elysia picked up the leash and tugged until the raccoon lazily hopped forward, still refusing to relinquish its new prize coin. Hopefully, it would give up and drop the coin before she had to drag it very far.
“Good, good,” Elysia muttered to herself, coaxing the raccoon closer and closer to the gaping hole in the floor.
She tossed a piece of fruit down the hole, assuming bribery was the way to this creature’s heart. Lina dove through the air like an arrow, nearly tearing off Elysia’s arm out of its socket and pulling her down into the hole.
“Well, then,” Elysia shook out her arm with a wince. Grabbing several handfuls of grapes and berries, she shoved them into the cloak’s pockets. And with that, Elysia eased herself and a candle into the small tunnel.
Propped up on her elbows, she reached up out of the crawl space and pulled on the rug until it flopped over. Rug in place, she carefully took hold of the stone cover, easing it down until its weight and gravity were too much for her arms and the stone slammed down with a terrible, scraping sound. Her fingers barely dodged its fall.
Heart beating faster, Elysia double checked the leash and candle and then began scooting on her ass and elbows down the crawl space. “Come on then, Lina. We’ve got a meeting to crash.”
The raccoon hopped along easily enough. Short in stature and with an animal’s eyes, it was having a far grander time than her. Given that it wasn’t straining at the leash, it seemed like Topp had likely been training the creature to walk like a pet beside him. Looking at its furry rump bob up and down as it moved, she almost couldn’t blame him for wanting to keep it.
Elysia scooted slowly, sending the heel of her foot out cautiously each time. At the right spot, the warped wooden boards would drop out completely. There was a rope to cling to—but she hadn’t known that the first time and ended up with a broken wrist and bloodied face. This time, she would be using the rope.
Lina came to a sudden halt, squawking when Elysia’s foot accidentally pushed up against her fur. Elysia peered into the dark.
“Well, aren’t you clever,” she murmured.
The raccoon preened a bit as if it could understand, and Elysia prepared to drop through the levels below. Once upon a time, the drop had started in the servants’ closet in the upper floors of the turret and was used to send laundry down to the lower levels. Efficient and smart, it allowed the servants to avoid breaking their backs on the turret stairs while staying out of sight.
Now, several remodels later, someone had gotten creative. The rope wasn’t on a pulley anymore, but instead tied to the thick beam above. She didn’t know which crazy Blatz ancestor made the crawl space, or maybe it had been a servant who needed a route for thieving, but damn if she didn’t love and hate them at the same time right now.
Elysia blew out the candle and inched closer to the edge. She paused, looking between the raccoon and the rope, unsure of how to proceed. She barely managed to drop the leash when Lina took a great jump and caught the rope, swinging back and forth in the air.
“Going somewhere? Maybe you could just toss me the coin then.”
Lina bared her teeth in reply.
“Right.” Elysia prayed the rope could hold her and jumped the short distance. Her hands slipped on the worn rope, flesh burning as she slid. Shit. Her knees snapped together, clamping the rope between them, bringing her to an abrupt and jarring stop. Forehead dipping against the rope, she paused, dangling in the dark. Stale air surrounded her, not even a whistle of fresh air creeping in from outside.
The rope swayed gently, and Elysia blew out a nervous breath. Scrunching her body like a worm, she made quick work of the obstacle, not wanting to be on the rope any longer than necessary.
Down, down, down, she went.
Until she came to the old servants’ closet. Releasing the rope, she landed in a crouch. Fingers on the dirt covered floor, relief came with a long drawn out exhale. So much better. She stood, rolling out her shoulders, and snatching up Lina’s leash. Out the servants’ door and into the tunnels, it was only a short walk to the stairs that led to the castle grounds.
Elysia paused with her hands on the circular grate that would lead outside.
Tunnels .
Cold moisture dampened her hands as she gripped the iron grate. She looked out through the diagonal cross sections, letting the night air hit her face. What if there were tunnels or something like it beneath the docks? She had scavenged through countless homes, businesses, and buildings in the south side. And what did they all have in common? Hidden doors. Tunnels. Cellars with escape hatches.
Were tunnels beneath the sea so farfetched?
She didn’t think so. Not when magic tugged on her bones in a land where it shouldn’t exist.
The grate stuck, mud and moss sealing it to the ground, but she shoved, wiggling it side to side, loosening the debris until it gave way. Lugging herself out onto the cold, wet dirt, she lay there catching her breath, staring at the grim sky.
Gods, she regretted not being able to change into trousers or leather training pants. Bits of muck and gravel stuck to her bare skin, slimy and sharp they clung and dug, but it didn’t matter. How she looked was irrelevant. She just had to make it to these people in one piece. Hope rose for the second time that evening, now a small flame in her chest. Not enough to warm her, but enough to make her carry on, foolish and headstrong until her brutal end.
Elysia, still holding the long line of Lina’s leash, began pulling until she could grab the creature by the scruff out of the grate hole. “Sorry, friend.”
She offered a grape as a peace offering. Snatching the grape with her foot, the racoon still clung to the coin like it was her life’s treasure. The mist and wind whipped the loose strands of Elysia’s hair. Standing there in the bitter dampness, her eyes caught on the torches held within iron sconces lining the walls of the castle grounds. Flames danced, refusing to cower even with the mist.
What am I doing? I can’t bring a raccoon.
Mouth firming, she looked down at the fat, furry creature. “I can’t take you.” She pulled out a fistful of fruit and held it out, palm flat. Lina pounced and so did Elysia, ripping the coin out of her impressive grip. The raccoon screamed, but Elysia ignored it, untying the leash, so it wouldn’t strangle itself.
Crouching, she looked at Lina seriously. “Topp will have my neck if anything happens to you, so just be good, will you? Weasel your way back into his rooms.”
Coin finally in hand, Elysia looked up at the moon. A purple haze drifted past its pale yellow face.
Midnight moon, foggy and bright
Best to stay inside
Lest you meet your ruin tonight
The old children’s rhyme played in her head. It was just a silly thing—something mothers said. A reminder that nothing good ever happened in the wee hours out on the cobbled Relaclave streets. But the words were pins and needles beneath her skin tonight.
Elysia broke the trance of the moon, setting off at a brisk pace. She walked out of the castle grounds, pointing her feet in the direction of the sea. Nursery rhymes couldn’t stop what was in motion this evening. She allowed herself one more glance at the moon’s face, shrouded in warning.
She knew what she needed to do, but the coin burned against her palm, a reminder of how difficult these people had made this for her. They could have just helped her, but instead, they had made it practically impossible. Jump, they said. Giving her hoop after hoop.
Resentment, thick and oily, ran through her—fueling her every step. She was going to get into this meeting even if it killed her.
She had no idea just how likely that was.