CHAPTER 24 #3
His father put a hand on his shoulder to steady him and watched him closely. Sebastian forced back the rising scream in his throat. She was alive. For now. Recognition passed across Tobias’s face.
“You look like I did,” he said quietly. “When I realised I loved your mother.”
Love? Is that what this is?
Sebastian froze. His father never spoke of her. Tobias reached into his cloak and pulled something from the inner pocket. A dagger. Familiar. Ornate. Not court-forged – not easily traced. He set it on the ground between them and slid it forward.
“I can’t be seen helping you,” he said. “Not yet. But you’re not as alone as you think.”
Sebastian stared at the blade in shock. This wasn’t just a dagger. It was a message:
Go. Save her. I can’t help you – but I won’t stop you.
Hope ignited in his chest again. Raw and sharp. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like.
Tobias straightened. “A judge from Caldris is on his way. The Council demanded oversight. You shouldn’t be here then.” He met Sebastian’s eyes. “Don’t waste this.”
He paused at the doorway. “Try not to die, Sebastian.”
And then he was gone. But Sebastian heard his father’s voice before the door closed.
“He’s not talking. No food. No water. No visitors. Let him sit in the dark and reflect on what he’s done. That ought to loosen his tongue.”
Tobias’s voice was cold, commanding. And entirely convincing.
“I’ll question him again myself in twenty-four hours.”
His father was buying him time. Time to escape undetected. Sebastian twisted, scooped the blade into his bound hands, and sawed at the nightshade. The cords resisted at first – stubborn, venom-laced – but cut by cut they began to fray.
Couldn’t have untied me yourself, Father?
He didn’t have a plan. But he had a blade in his hands and her name burning in his chest.
Hold on, Kara. I’m coming.
After what felt like hours, the bindings loosened enough. He wrenched his wrists apart, the nightshade rope falling in damp strands to the floor. He brought his hands forward, the skin bloodied and raw.
Didn’t matter.
Magic. I need my magic.
He opened his palms wide and tried to summon it – the familiar heat, the crimson that always answered him.
Nothing. Just a faint pulse – too far away.
Shit.
Two days under nightshade. Of course it hadn’t come back yet. Magic took time to recover. He couldn’t wait. She couldn’t wait. He clenched his fists.
I’m not going to fight my way out of here without it.
He scanned the room. The window. He crossed to it, shoved it wider, and leaned out. Two hundred feet of sheer stone wall. No handholds he could see from here. Just smooth black rock.
Fuck. That’s a long way down.
No guards in sight. Why would there be? No one would be insane enough to attempt this. He checked for anything he could use – rope, cloth – but there was nothing.
Looks like I’m climbing.
He hauled himself onto the ledge. His hands, slick with blood from his wrists, slipped on the moss-covered stone.
Wind tore at him. He gritted his teeth, lowered himself down.
After only two steps, his foot slipped. He slammed into the wall, gasping, broken ribs screaming, and his grip faltered.
For one horrible second, he was hanging by his fingers alone, feet scrabbling against smooth stone.
Don’t fall. You fall and she dies.
His boot caught on uneven rock. He clung to the wall, panting, heart hammering.
This is going to kill me.
But staying will kill her.
Keep going.
His muscles burned, and his arms screamed with effort, but he kept going.
Another inch. His fingers found cracks in the stone – barely deep enough.
His boots scraped, searching, until they caught on jutting bricks.
He released one hand. Reached lower. Found another hold.
The wind kept trying to pry him loose. Sweat dripped down his face from anxiety and effort. But he didn’t let go.
Magical strength would be really fucking useful right now.
But his crimson was nowhere to be found.
He grunted in frustration. When his boots finally hit solid earth, he nearly collapsed, legs shaking.
But he couldn’t waste a second. He slipped around the guard towers, keeping low.
The stables weren’t far, the faint scent of valmares lingered in the cold night air.
He knew his way around here with his eyes closed – this part was easy.
He eased the door open. Inside, the familiar warmth and soft nickering.
His fingers found a saddle. A fresh cloak. And finally... a blade.
I’ll kill anyone who stands between me and her.
He pulled the crimson cloak tight around him, and ran his hand along the mare’s flank. She snorted, but didn’t shy.
Good girl.
He mounted in silence. Fast and efficient.
His father had given him a twenty-four hour head start. He wasn’t going to waste it. He tried not to think about the distance. How far away the City was. The ticking clock on Kara’s life. He urged the mare forward and disappeared into the dark.
He would make it.
He had to.