In the dead of night, Ree’s chest rose and fell slowly as she slept.
Me? I was wide awake, pressing my ear against Helgar’s door. The buzz saw sound of his snoring penetrated the thick wood. The cold stone floor chilled the bottoms of my bare feet.
Now that I actually had Wren’s medicine in my hand, I was desperate to deliver it with every fiber of my being. After watching one of House Leus’s unsworn get cut from their team—literally cut; they had sliced his palm open with a dagger and sent him home—I knew my days here were already numbered.
Sure, I could wait, train, possibly even become a knight. But Wren was struggling for breath now. The thought of her hacking and coughing, the gut-wrenching sight of her ribs pushing out against her skin as she wheezed—I had to act now. After all, I had the cure right here, and there was no way I could sleep without trying to give it to her.
I was going to search for my bestie in this creepy fortress. I just had to open the bloody door first.
I’d been practicing on the lock for about two hours already, using an unlocking spell and a lot of trial and error to work through all the possibilities. It was a byzantine locking system, probably made by Victorian engineers who’d known exactly how to trap people inside.
I shivered a little in the thin clothes the Institute had given us. The shirt was flimsy, and I still didn’t have a bra. Not to mention that I only had one outfit.
Magic thrummed inside of me as I reached again for the door’s locking mechanism with my mind. I shifted the gears and cogs, twisting them with my magic until—click.
I exhaled and closed my eyes, whispering a silent prayer of thanks to Taru.
I snatched the bag of herbs from under my pillow, then stood before the door a moment to gather my thoughts before I opened it.
I couldn’t go through the Nathair’s room. Slipping past him wouldn’t be easy. I had a feeling he didn’t miss a thing, even when he slept. Plus, he made me think of blood and gore and other terrible things. Helgar, on the other hand … he seemed like he was halfway in another world already. Add in a sleeping charm, and he’d be completely knocked out.
Carefully, I pressed my ear against the door again, listening to the sound of Helgar’s snoring. Reassured, I held my breath and pulled open the door as quietly as I could.
Slowly, I stepped in just a little, keeping the door open behind me. I padded quietly on my bare feet.
Helgar’s room smelled like the sea. A huge shark’s head hung from one of the walls, its mouth opened wide to reveal its many rows of razor-sharp teeth. Weapons lined the walls, and bottles of booze cluttered every surface. A barrel of ale stood next to the bed, the stink of it invading my nostrils. On top of the barrel, a glass of beer had been spilled on its side.
So, he was off his trolley, which was good news.
Lightning flashed, and I jumped a little. Rain hammered against the floor-to-ceiling windows and thunder shook the glass.
Helgar rolled over in his bed, and I froze for a moment. Once he settled, snoring again, I muttered a sleep charm to deepen his rest. My chest buzzed with magic; as soon as the charm was complete, I tossed it at him like a ball. He stirred when the magic struck him, but an instant later, he was snoring even louder and slower. The magic curled around his tree trunk of a chest.
With a racing heart, I skimmed close to the wall, keeping in the shadows. Then, growing bolder, I hurried along the wall and reached the door. His wasn’t locked, and I inched it open. Carefully, I slipped outside and into the corridor, shutting the door carefully behind me.
Shadows writhed over the dark stone here. A few torches lit the hall, but they were spaced far enough apart that darkness claimed most of it—not the worst thing, given that I was trying to escape notice. Thunder grumbled through the stone.
Tiny problem. I wasn’t exactly sure where I was supposed to go. In fact, I needed divine intervention for this one.
First, I chanted the Ancient Fae spell for navigation. A tiny silver ball no bigger than a penny hovered in the palm of my hand. Then, I mouthed another silent prayer to the Storm God, believing the magic could do with a little boost.
“Taru, god of storms. I don’t know my way around here. I need to find the dungeons … please show me the way.”
The ball then shot out of my hand and sped down the hall to my left.
For a panicked moment, I thought I was going to lose sight of it, but the ball stopped at a corner, waiting for me. As I approached, it zoomed off again, but I paused. I’d hidden myself a bit with magic, but an ancient creature could scent me fast. If I turned the corner and ran into the Nathair, he’d kill me on the spot, probably with more sadism than he’d employed to test my magic. Still, there was no going back now. The only way out was with Wren. One way or another, my unsworn days would end tonight.
Fear whispered over my skin as I stalked silently down black halls, all of them identical. Was this spell actually working, or was I being led on a merry chase? I had to take it in faith that the ball was leading me down the right path.
Faint voices echoed through the hall ahead of me, and I froze where I stood, tightening my grip on the herbs. I had to use the little ball for navigation, but it was also a liability if anyone saw it.
My muscles tensed as the ball of light suddenly ducked to the right, into a dark passage that jutted off from the main one.
Then, at the far end of the corridor, shadows darkened the floor as two men approached from around a corner. Not wasting another second, I lurched into the passage and followed the light. It zipped ahead of me, moving quickly. I quickened my pace.
It was at the end of the passage that I noticed the spiral staircase heading down. A faint blue glow radiated from below. I took the first step down, listening for the sound of footsteps. Nothing but the slight umbling of thunder. I kept going down the stairs.
Already, I could sense suffering, thick in the air and tinged with the smell of blood and cortisol. The emotional weight of the prisoners pressed on me like rocks on my chest. How was Wren doing down here? Because I could hardly breathe.
I felt more determined than ever to get the herbs to her.
Steeling my resolve, I picked up my pace and hurried down the steps, the air growing warmer as I went further down. Beads of sweat began to pop along my forehead, the back of my neck. My mouth went dry, and no matter how much I licked my lips and swallowed, I couldn’t be free of the sensation.
Noises floated up from the bottom of the stairs, making the hairs on my arms stand on end. The sound of steel on steel, maybe? Like two knives scraping against each other.
Was someone fighting down there?
My fingers had a death grip on Wren’s medicine by the time I reached the bottom. Peering around the corner at the foot of the stairs, I found a long corridor lit with torches of blue fire. It looked like it stretched on a hundred feet at least, and the light wavered over barred cells.
It wasn’t the sight of a pair of thin hands dangling out of one of the cells that made my heart beat a little harder. It was Oren, sitting on a stool, sharpening one of his blades with a whetstone.
With his back to me, at least he couldn’t see me. His blond hair shone in the torchlight. I shoved the herbs into my pocket.
I wasn’t sure if he was the Institute’s jailer or if he just enjoyed torturing people. Whatever the case, this made things a hell of a lot more difficult—and I risked discovery as soon as he turned around. Still, Wren and I had been through worse. I could handle this.
Perhaps a sleep charm was in order.
Shutting my eyes, I concentrated on summoning another soporific spell. The Storm God’s power filled me, and my ribs vibrated as the charm coalesced inside of my hand. I stepped into view and tossed the spell at Oren’s enormous back.
When it hit him, he stiffened, then slouched and fell altogether with a resounding thud. The sound of his whistling breathing filled the air, his chest heaving.
Quietly, I crept toward him, my eyes locked on
his unconscious body. I had no idea how long he’d be out for, but I didn’t need long. I just needed his keys, and then to find the cell with Wren in it.
When I reached him, I knelt beside him and pulled the keys from his belt. Faster than an unlocking spell. He moaned a little in his sleep.
As soon as I had the keys, I sprang into action, rushing into the hall of cells. I scanned quickly, one cell to the next. Most of the prisoners were demons—vamps, hellhounds, horned creatures from the Shadow Hell. Some were fae with delicately pointed ears. All of them stared at me as I whooshed past their cells.
Fire demons, trolls, forest witches—one cell after another of supernaturals. None of them Wren.
My heart slammed against my ribs as the prisoners started to make noise.
Where the hells was Wren?
“Hey!” someone called out in a harsh, raspy voice; the voice of someone who hadn’t sipped water in days. “Hey, you! I need water.”
Focus, Cora. You’re here for Wren.
“I know you can hear me!” a woman’s shrill voice. “You have to get me out of here!”
“I’m looking for Wren!” I called out in a panic. “If I find her, I’ll try to let you all out, but—”
“There’s no Wren here!” A husky male voice.
A melodic voice trilled. “Who’s that? Who’s there?” Also not Wren.
Soon, a cacophony of voices filled the air. Loud enough to wake the dead.
“Let us out!” they clamored, none of them Wren.
I clamped my hands over my ears. I had to stay focused on Wren. I was here for her, not the demonic prisoners.
“Water!” someone croaked.
I gritted my teeth, rushing on through the cells. Water, at least, I could help with. And since I was now getting better at multitasking—
I hurried on through the corridor and chanted a spell for rain, invoking Taru’s blessing. Storm clouds gathered in the cells and moisture filled the air until heavy drops began falling. I took care to create rain only over the cells themselves, leaving Oren dry at the other end.
Desperate with thirst, the prisoners fell silent as they lapped up the water and collected it in their hands.
I was nearly at the end of the line of cells now. Wren had to be here. The scrying mirror had showed me this very fortress. I’d never failed at scrying before. Which meant I was about to….
The final two cells were empty, and my heart sank. She wasn’t here.
What in the hells? There must be more cells. Another level, perhaps.
Rain hammered down on me, and I ran to the nearest cell. A red-skinned demon sat in the corner, arms crossed, looking extremely put out.
“My species doesn’t drink water,” he grumbled. “I’m getting wet for nothing.”
“Where are the other cells?” I asked frantically.
“Dumb twat,” was his only response.
“Dumb twat!” the other prisoners began to chant, over and over, banging on their bars. They’d all gone mad down here. “Dumb twat!”
I started searching again, just in case I’d missed a cell, but I was running out of time. My heart was a wild beast. Had she died here?
I thrust my fingers into my hair, trying to think clearly. Oren should be stirring by now, though he was still as a rock.
Okay. Fine. I’ll find the other cells in this place.
I broke into a sprint, but by now, the prisoners were screaming again, demanding to be set free. Their cries screeched in my ears, loud enough to raise the dead. At least Oren didn’t seem to be moving.
“Let us out, you dumb twat!” they bellowed.
I sprinted past Oren—almost.
As I reached him, his hand shot out, and he snatched my ankle. My blood turned to ice, and I slammed against the hard stone.
The bastard had been waiting for me to run past.
His eyes were wide open as he climbed over me, and there was fire inside of them. “Going somewhere?” he asked, his voice a hungry lion’s snarl.
I punched him hard in the jaw, but it didn’t seem to faze him. He gripped my fist and twisted my arm. Then, he head-butted me, and pain shot through my skull.
My vision went dark for the briefest of moments. In the next second, Oren was up, his boot on my neck. He pressed down, crushing my throat. I couldn’t chant a spell to save my life.
Literally.
“Well, well,” he said. “This is an interesting turn of events.”
Can’t breathe, I mouthed as he killed my capacity to take in air.
“What’s that? I can’t hear you, but I hope it’s a good answer for why you’re in here making rain clouds. Do you care if the prisoners have water, perhaps?”
My lungs were ready to explode.
He glanced across his shoulder. “You gave them water. Did you come here to help someone in particular?”
I tried to cough, but even that was a stretch. Already, I was starting to lose consciousness, my vision darkening around the edges, but I had to hold on.
“It doesn’t matter,” Oren said. “I think I’ll execute every last one of our filthy prisoners tonight, just to be sure. How about I tie you up to watch?”
Oh, screw you, psycho. I was done with these power-hungry bullies. If my friend Aenor were here, she’d be carving out his heart right now.
Rage exploded in my mind, brighter and hotter than lightning. I gripped Oren’s foot, then twisted it hard. He fell with a boom.
I summoned my magic and slammed him with a pain spell from my fingertips. He grimaced, body contorting, shaking. He was trying to reach for the dagger at his waist. I wouldn’t give him the chance.
“Where are the other cells?” I asked in a quiet hiss. “Where’s the rest of the dungeon?”
He grunted incomprehensibly. Screw it. I could find them on my own.
Turning around, I bolted back up the stairs. I kept my head down and ran, taking the stairs two at a time on my ascent. My hands were shaking, but I gripped tightly to Oren’s dagger. It was the only weapon I’d gotten my hands on since arriving.
As I ran, I summoned the navigation spell. The little silver ball popped into my hand, glowing bright.
“Show me to Wren,” I said, frantic.
The ball shot into the air—then stopped.
“Lead me to Wren,” I repeated, maybe a little too loud.
It simply hovered there, vibrating like it was about to explode. Either she’d been shielded with magic, or….
I didn’t want to think about the other possibility.
I had to deal with what was in front of me. The sphere wasn’t leading me to Wren, and I had to get out of here now. My legs started shaking at the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs behind me.
Bloody hells.
I took off again, careening toward the narrow passageway I’d taken on the way here. I gripped the dagger tightly and slipped into the shadows. I called up my pain magic once more, and Taru’s power electrified my body.
When Oren ran past, I shot him with magic again—a powerful electric shock to his whole system.
He convulsed. Blue light illuminated his veins and electrified his nerves, lit up his skull.
“Where’s Wren?” I snarled. “Where are the other cells?”
A moment of clarity in his eyes as his body vibrated with electricity. “Wren?” he grunted. “Oh, she’s here. But she’s not in the dungeons.”
What in the hells? He must be lying.
I didn’t understand. But he’d distracted me enough that I missed the blade coming for me.
He caught me in the side, just as I shifted. The pain was white hot for an instant, then it turned cold—ice cold.
“But you won’t find her,” he said, twisting the knife a little, “because you’re about to die.”
I slammed his stolen dagger into his throat, then ripped it across his neck. Blood sprayed all over me, and he fell to his knees.
I’d severed his larynx, and his ravaged throat emitted only a gagging noise. I br
ought the knife back again, then plunged it under his ribs, into his heart, stopping it completely.
Oren fell back on the floor with a thud, and I stared down at my own blood-soaked body. I’d seen my fair share of blood before, but I couldn’t say I’d ever bathed in it like this.
Holy hells. I still had no idea where to find Wren, and I was now stuck in the middle of enemy territory with a dead body on my hands.
My lungs constricted. Any knight who stepped out of his room right now would smell the hot blood all over me, and the Nathair’s claws would be in my throat within seconds.
Chapter 17
I backed away from Oren’s corpse. This wasn’t exactly like finding a dead body in our shop—those cold slabs of evil. By the time they’d been laid on our wood floor, their bodies had turned blue and stiff. This one streamed hot blood, and I had a nagging doubt in my mind that maybe I shouldn’t have killed him. Any knight who stepped out of their room would scent the coppery smell immediately and come running.
Second of all, Oren had been a loyal servant of the Storm God. Would Taru smite me over this? Was I as mad as the kings of Edinnu?
I shook my head. No … this had been self-defense. Anyone could see that. He was going to kill me. In any case, I couldn’t stand here mentally arguing with myself. I had to hide the body—fast.
I still had the knife in my side, and I was bleeding fast enough that it was making me dizzy. Pain shot through my gut, and I did not relish the thought of pulling it out. Still, I didn’t have much of a choice.
Gritting my teeth, I gripped the hilt and counted to three. I yanked the dagger out of me. Wincing, I lay it down on the floor quietly.
Blood … everywhere. My blood. Oren’s blood. I’d made quite the mess on the hunt for Wren.
Okay, think, Cora. Think.
One thing at a time. Heal belly. Hide body. Clean up the mess. Return to room without anyone noticing.
I pressed my hand to my side and muttered a healing charm, focusing my magic on the wound. It tingled over my side—slow at first, then picking up speed over my ribs and stomach. My body was shaking, but the spell started to work. After only a few seconds, the knife wound began to close.
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