We waded into the icy water, the river freezing me up to my waist. The watery underground passage was narrow—barely enough for two to walk side by side. Morcant and the selkies led the way.
In the dim light, dank air enveloped us. Up ahead, the faint glow of magical glowing orbs led the way, and I pushed ahead until I had just enough light to follow the reflections in my mirrors. I kept glancing at my wrists, checking the advancement of the main assault, breathing a sigh of relief every time I saw Roan unharmed.
We trudged on, half-frozen by the water, our labored breathing echoing off the crumbling walls. The underground river seemed to go on forever, the water still up to our waists. So this is how people ended up with trench foot.
As we walked, the cold began to numb my muscles, and my teeth chattered uncontrollably. At one point, Abellio turned to give me an encouraging smile. Of all of us, he seemed like the only one who relished this trek, his eyes shimmering in excitement.
As we walked, I caught a glimpse of Elrine, blood streaking her face, her features contorted in pain. Then Odette, aiming a silvery bow into air, her mouth wide in a banshee death scream. The rebels had managed to position several ladders on the walls, but all of them had been repelled, rebels flung to their deaths. Drustan’s writhing darkness seemed to be causing the worst damage to the defenses, but its tendrils had begun to recede. He was getting tired.
Then Morcant cursed, and I looked up to see the enormous blockade standing in our way—a wall of enormous boulders.
The selkie guide shook his head. “This wasn’t here before. Where in the gods’ names has this come from?”
Had the ceiling collapsed?
“Stand back.” Morcant held out his hands to the sides. “I’ll start clearing this away.”
As we shuffled backward, sloshing in the icy water, dread crawled up my gut. Something was very wrong. Morcant raised his hands, and fiery white light shot from them, hitting the rocks. They crumbled—revealing more rocks. And large barrels, and discarded furniture.
This blockade had been built by someone. And that meant the king knew we were coming.
A strange sound echoed in the tunnel—a terrible, keening wail, quickly joined by another. And another.
All at once, the tight space around us echoed with wails that pierced me to the marrow.
The screams of banshees.
My heart was ready to burst free from my chest, and our own men began to scream in pain. One suddenly disappeared, dragged underwater, flailing. I yanked a flashlight from my pocket, casting my beam back on the water I glimpsed movement—a scaly creature swimming between us, slashing with her claws. Some of the rebels began to thrust their swords into the water. One hit something, and a head rose from the river—a scaly, green-skinned woman, her eyes vacant and her hair a tangle of river-weeds.
“Nymphs,” Morcant snarled.
The banshees screams grew louder, deafening now. From the other end of the tunnel, they were moving closer—a whole troop of them. Twenty, maybe more. I dropped my flashlight, then pulled my gun and one of my stilettos free from the belt.
“Move!” Morcant screamed.
Oh shit. Explosions coming.
Along with the other rebels, I flattened myself to the rocky tunnel wall. Morcant raised his hands, pointing them at the incoming banshees. Bright rays of light blinded me, and one banshee fell, no longer screaming, but the rest moved on like phantoms. Cold fear burned through my nerve endings. I aimed my gun, using the line of sight to take several shots at the wailing women. Another floundered and fell; a third lurched backward as my bullet hit her in the shoulder.
And the water around us churned.
Something snaked by my foot and I reflexively jumped back, swinging my stiletto down. It sunk deep into the meat of one of the nymphs and she raised her head, her eyes burning with fury. She wrenched free, taking my stiletto with her. I shot at her, pulling another knife with my free hand. I had no idea if I’d managed to hit her under the murky water.
“It was a trap!” Morcant roared by my ear. His face morphed, now nearly completely feline, canines bared. “Tell Roan!”
Half our crew were now trapped between the rubble blockade and the incoming banshees. Morcant grappled with a banshee, his hands glowing bright as he wrapped them around her neck.
Screaming in frustration, I pulled out a mirror, letting my mind bond with it as I stared at Roan, blood-soaked in battle. As the cool mirror washed over my skin, I felt a sharp stab of pain just below my ribs.
Thick smoke and the cloying smell of blood instantly replaced the smells of claustrophobic tunnel, and I tumbled to the ground. Darkness had fallen, and screaming fae surrounded me, some shooting bows, others charging forward with a battering ram. An arrow sank into the ground inches away from me. For a moment, the shock of the battle raging around me stole my breath.
“What are you doing here?” Roan stood above me, eyes gleaming cold, antlers high above his head. He dragged me up, blood streaking his body. “What’s happening? Why isn’t the gate open?”
“It was a trap!” I shouted above the clash of swords. “They knew we were coming!” We’d missed something. Branwen had been locked up, unable to pass on information… and yet somehow, the information had been leaked.
An enormous fae charged Roan, gripping an axe, and Roan whirled. He cut his blade through the fae’s neck, blood soaking him. The fae’s head splashed into the water, his body crumpling, and Roan turned to me. “Where’s Morcant?”
I shook my head. “He was in the tunnel. He’s trapped. They’re all trapped.”
I forced myself to focus, looking around me, gripping my gun. The attack was in chaos. Our troops were breaking up, the ground littered with dead and wounded fae. Wine-dark blood stained the earth, seeping into the soil.
“We have to retreat, Roan!”
He looked around us, his raw rage icing the air. He grabbed a battle horn tied around his neck, and raised it to his lips. When he blew it, my eardrums nearly ruptured. The sound of the horn echoed across the battlefield. Three short bursts.
Immediately, the fae charging with the ram dropped it, shields still over their heads. They began to retreat. Others turned from the walls, stopping to help the wounded up. I glanced at the sky, where Drustan’s darkness still enveloped the battlements.
“Drustan will buy us time to retreat,” Roan said. “Come on. Hurry!”
I turned from the fortress, but as I took a step to run, I stumbled to my knees, my head swimming. My side burned with a sharp pain.
Roan gripped me under my shoulder, helping to pull me up. “What is it?”
“I think I’m hurt.” A cloud of darkness whirled in my skull, and I gripped my side. I raised my hand, finding it streaked with blood.
Roan slipped his arm around my waist. “I’ll help you. We have to get out of here.”
I leaned on him and we moved away from the fortress, moving further from the range of the arrows as he pulled me along. Roan’s musky scent engulfed me.
“Did Abellio make it?” Roan asked.
“I don’t know. We got separated. Where’s Elrine?”
“I lost sight of her. I last saw her when…” Roan’s voice faded away.
When I looked up, a fresh wave of fear slammed me in the chest. About two hundred yards away from us, a line of fae rode for us on enormous horses, all heavily armored. The moonlight washed over them, casting them in an eerie blue light. The sight stopped the rebels in their tracks
“Who are they?” I breathed.
“That must be the king’s cohort.” Roan’s voice sounded hollow. “The one he sent to the border last night.”
Fatigue smoldered in my muscles. Looking around me, I felt doom closing in on me. Injured, with no horses, no wings. The king’s troops were swooping in for a massacre.
“Everyone, into the forest!” Roan roared. “Run!”
Panic crackled the air around me, and the rebel horde turned for the trees. I stumbled, leaning into R
oan. We just had to make it to the edge of the forest, where the horses would struggle to follow us.
I fought past the pain that splintered my ribs, rushing for the forest. But even if we ran at full speed, we’d never make it. The horses were closing in on us, their hooves making the earth tremble. There was no way we’d survive. Gripped with pain, my knees buckled. I wasn’t leaning on Roan anymore. Where was he? I stumbled, wheezing as I ran, my muscles screaming.
I glanced over my shoulder.
And there was Roan, running away from the forest, heading directly for the king’s troops. He lifted his sword above his head, charging—completely alone. He was running to his death.
My world tilted. What the hell was he doing? I froze, clutching my bleeding ribs, staring in horror. The oncoming death horde was less than fifty yards from him, eyes gleaming in the dark. Forty feet now.
Something ancient and dark vibrated over the turbulent landscape. Wind whipped around me, pushing me forward, and darkness gathered above Roan’s head, blotting out the moon.
The darkness of a storm. Roan’s storm.
I stumbled closer to him, grasping my gun. I needed to get to him—I didn’t know what I would do, just that I was gripped by an overwhelming desire to protect him.
“Roan!” I shouted, stumbling toward him. This was madness, utter and complete madness, and yet I had to press on.
The horses were nearly upon him when lightning struck. Some tumbled to the ground; others reared to their hind feet. Another bolt seared the sky, thunder cracking the air. The wind whipped over my skin, a hurricane gale, and it knocked me to my knees. Dirt and debris whipped over my skin, whirling around Roan. He stood in the eye of the storm, sword raised, and I tried to fire at the troops surrounding him. I had no idea where my bullets were going.
A sharp crack of lightning speared the sky, touching down in the king’s troops. The soldiers fled, horses panicking—but not all of them.
“Roan!” I screamed over the wind, rushing forward. Maybe I could reach him.
A group of full-plated riders galloped at him, and he swung for them, his sword whistling in the air. Lightning cracked the sky, blinding me, and I felt something sever. That flame—the warmth I’d felt in my chest—snuffed out, and darkness welled from within. My connection to Roan was gone.
And the shadows pulled me under.
Chapter 27
I lay on a damp, bumpy floor, pain fracturing my ribs. Complete and utter darkness enveloped me, and I reached up to grasp the blindfold covering my eyes, but I found nothing there.
Either I’d gone blind, or the earth had swallowed me up.
“Roan?” I whispered.
My voice sounded strange in my ear, cracked and weak, and it echoed around me, as if reverberating from nearby walls. What had happened? I remembered seeing Roan running at the cavalry, and then the dying of the flame in my chest—that connection between us. Panic threatened to engulf me. Had he died? Please, no.
“Anybody there?” I asked, desperate now, my voice trembling.
Only the sound of dripping water answered me. I pushed myself up onto my elbows, my side pulsing with pain. I felt around me, my fingers tracing the ground—damp, curved stone. I traced one of the stones. I bit my lip, and felt it over and over until I realized what this was. Cobblestones. I was lying on a cobblestone floor. To one side, I could feel a rough stone wall formed from rectangular blocks. A thin layer of sludge covered the grouting between the blocks.
I tried to stand up, but a wave of dizziness hit me hard. I sucked in deep breaths, trying to manage my pain until the dizziness passed. I crawled on my knees, moving along the floor, but hit a wall almost instantly.
I needed to figure out the counters of this room. I kept circling the floor, tracing the wall until my fingers brushed against metal—a smooth surface, three feet wide. A door. I traced my hands over its surface, feeling for a handle or even hinges, but there was nothing. I shoved at the door, unable to budge it an inch, then slammed my fist into it. A thud echoed over the room, and beyond that, nothing happened. I kept crawling and feeling around me until certainty sank into my mind; a heavy, poisonous knowledge. I was in a cell in the king’s dungeons. I couldn’t imagine a scenario in which this would end well for me.
I slumped to the floor, despair clawing at the back of my skull.
On the plus side, I probably wasn’t blind—just sitting in complete darkness, somewhere under the earth. No light—no reflections. I was completely trapped in here.
I forced myself to my hands and knees, trying to block out the stabbing pain in my ribs, and crawled over the floor to see if I could find any tools at my disposal. As I scrambled around the cell, I tried to feel that warmth in my chest, my connection to Roan.
Nothing. Please, Roan. Please let me know you’re okay. I couldn’t lose him.
After fifteen minutes of desperate fumbling in the darkness, I gave in to the certainty that I had nothing. They’d stripped off my bracelets, armor, weapons, and shoes, and I now wore only tattered, drenched leather leggings and a water-logged shirt. I was in a cramped square cell, about six feet across. When I managed to stand up, leaning against the wall, my head cracked against the ceiling. It was only four feet from the ground, which meant I couldn’t stand. They’d probably designed it this way on purpose to elicit a sense of claustrophobia. And it worked, making me feel that the walls were closing in, that I’d be buried alive among the dark and vicious things that crawled underground. I curled up on the floor, breathing fast and heavy, shivering.
I had no food bowl, no water. A tiny hole in one of the corners was probably supposed to be a toilet.
Roan. Where are you? Are you there?
I slowed my breathing, trying to marshal the rising panic, to think clearly. What the fuck had happened? I’d been running to Roan, my gun drawn. The king’s cavalry had closed in around him, a storm roiling overhead, and then I’d felt my connection to him sever. I had probably lost consciousness from blood loss, and the king’s guard must have found the ‘Mistress of Dread.’ Right now, I was probably buried in a dungeon in the bowels of the fortress.
My heart was ready to shatter into a million pieces. How had everything gotten so fucked?
The king had known. He had known everything. Someone else—besides Branwen—had been spying. A traitor among the rebels had served us to the king on a silver platter. That was the only answer that made sense. But who?
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the sound of footfalls echoed off the walls. A guard, maybe, coming to deliver food? I could use this. The moment the door opened, I’d have a glimmer of light. I would lunge at the guard, and use the reflection in his eye to jump away. Get back to London. Maybe try to find Nerius, see if he knew what was going on. Assuming he wasn’t the one who’d betrayed us.
Just on the other side of the metal, the footsteps stopped, and the sound of a clicking lock echoed off the stone. I positioned myself against the wall, ready to pounce when the door opened.
“Wait,” said a deep voice. “The torch.”
“This an absolute bloody nuisance, you know that?” another grumbled.
“We have our orders.”
A moment of silence, and then I heard one of them say, “I can hardly see the door now.”
“Neither will she. That’s the whole point. No light, no escape.”
A cool draft chilled my skin as the door opened, but that was it. My stomach sank. No light, no escape.
“Food,” a gruff voice said.
Something clinked against the floor, and I tried to gather the strength to lunge for one of the guards, but pain fragmented my chest. I could hardly stand. A few moments of blinding agony later, and the door shut, the lock clicking. With each footfall down the hall, a little more of my hope disappeared.
I blindly felt around the floor until my fingers brushed against a clay cup and a piece of dry bread. I drank the water in the cup, letting the final drops splash onto my tongue. I wasn’t hung
ry enough to eat the bread, so I decided to save it for when hunger ate at my gut.
I closed my eyes, desperately searching for that warm flame. Roan. Where are you? Only a sharp, gnawing emptiness greeted me, and a wave of grief threatened to wash over me, but I couldn’t fall apart now. If I wanted to survive this, I needed to keep a clear head. I let my mind ice over, glacially cold. Think, Cassandra. Concentrate.
My fingers tightened into fists. They hadn’t killed me, which meant they needed me for something. At some point, they’d make a mistake, and time was on my side. At some point, anyone could get complacent. Putting out the torch and igniting it later in the pitch black is a hassle. Eventually, they might decide to leave it. All I needed was one reflection.
A disturbing squeaking sound pierced the silence, and it took me a moment to realize what it was. I grasped blindly for the bread, but it was already gone—stolen by a goddamned rat. I cursed, slumping back against the dank wall. Nothing to do but wait for the next meal.
For now, I needed to figure out who our traitor was. I breathed in, letting my mind roam back over everything I’d seen; the visions from the rock, the parchments. I thought over the events of the past days, taking apart each moment, looking at it from different angles.
Clarity comes in the strangest moments. Alone in the darkness, I suddenly knew why the missives we found in that safe felt so strangely familiar. Slowly, the seed of an idea took root, and a new theory began to bloom.
Branwen had never been the traitor. She had been framed.
Chapter 28
By the time the guards showed up with food again, I was starving enough to tear through the dry bread immediately. Listening to them talk as they moved past my door, I learned with a sinking sense of dread that they’d found a way to manage the torch hassle. They just didn’t bring me food often, skipping my door every other meal.
After eating, I spent what I thought was a few hours sleeping on the rough, bumpy floor, and the time began to pass in a disorienting blur of sleeping and staring into the darkness. When I slept, I dreamed of food—Branwen’s meat pies, a vat of creamy macaroni and cheese. After what I thought might have been a few days, I began to dream of food when I was awake, too. I could feel myself losing weight, my ribs jutting from my body.
Agent of Darkness (Dark Fae FBI Book 3) Page 21