Cold spills through my veins. But now it’s there because I want it to be. Protective, powerful, like a Fiordenkill wind that drives enemies away.
“You’re right,” I say, holding his gaze. “I trusted wrong this whole time.”
23
After the Silver Prince leaves me alone, I head straight down to the tunnels.
When I reach the juncture, four Byrnisian guards are already there, Sal’s human crew gone. One Byrnisian is stationed in front of each of the three tunnel mouths to Fiordenkill, Byrn, and Solaria, and one stands in front of the tunnel to Tiria, a dead world, where the Prince must be keeping Brekken and the Solarian beast.
I don’t recognize the guards from the summit, but everything about them says professional. They hold metallic staffs with sharp ends, and they look at me when I enter. Behind three of them—the tunnels to Fiordenkill, Solaria, and Tiria—a dull steel web stretches over the tunnel mouth, blocking the way. The Prince might not be able to close the door to Fiordenkill, but he can stop anyone from coming or going.
Anxiety makes sweat prickle my palms, but I stand straight, trying to sound calm and authoritative as I address the man guarding the opening of the Tiria tunnel.
“I’m Madeline Morrow. The Innkeeper. Here to see the Fiorden prisoner.”
The guard is a tall man with white hair and a greenish cast to his skin. He steps forward and regards me skeptically. His staff glitters in the low light as he leans down, and I can’t help but tense, the memory jumping into my head of the Byrnisian man in the antique shop, the wind magic that whipped up out of nowhere and flung me against the wall.
I can feel the magic coming from the guard now, as well as from the other guards at my back, which is strange because before this summer, magic never felt dangerous. But I raise my head so the guard can see my face. I try not to let my worry show, though I’m nothing but fear inside.
For Marcus. Havenfall. The Solarian girl, Sura. Taya. Brekken.
He examines me for a moment, and then stands back wordlessly. He lifts the staff an inch and taps it against the stone floor, and the metal barricade blocking the Tiria tunnel mouth starts to retract, the strands of iron snaking back into the stone.
The part of my mind that’s still me, that’s not numb with shock and fear, wonders how that works. Do the Byrnisians control the metal in the mountain too?
The glitter of a key ring on the guard’s belt catches my eye. I’ll need his keys to break Brekken out.
“Will you walk down the tunnel with me?” I ask the guard. I don’t really have to fake the tremor in my voice.
The guard’s jaw tightens in exasperation, but he nods and walks beside me into the dark tunnel. Staying half a step behind him, I reach surreptitiously into my pocket until my fingers find the enchanted spoon. When I was drowning, calling on the magic felt instinctive, but now I have to concentrate to call up the wind magic the little girl captured and channeled into the spoon. I will a wind to start up, and a short, strong gust sweeps up the other end of the tunnel.
The guard tenses and he steps forward, his hand going to the sword at his left hip. It’s my chance. I already have my dagger in hand, and I reach out with it, cutting the leather cord that secures his keys to his belt and grabbing them when they fall before they can make a sound.
For a split second, just a moment, I feel a rush of power. We come into sight of the bend in the tunnel, and I touch the guard on the arm. “Thank you. I can take it from here.”
I clench my left fist tight, hiding the stolen keys. How long do I have before he notices?
The guard appraises me. “All right. Careful—the Solarian’s cell is down here, too. You’ll have to pass it first.”
Alone, I walk into darkness. The metal grate reappears behind me, locking me in. There are no torches, and it’s becoming harder and harder to see with every step. The temperature drops, too, and I shiver, my clothes clinging to my damp skin.
Up ahead, everything is quiet. Is Brekken really down here?
As the light from behind me fades to almost nothing, I put my hands out, guiding myself along the wall. My eyes adjust slowly, just enough for me to see the vague shape of the tunnel. Deeper, deeper, until—
Stone turns to metal under my left hand, and I know this is another iron web. Something moves behind the bars, paler than the dark stone, and I stop. My heart is in my throat and my hands are shaking.
In the darkness, I can hear ragged breathing, but I can’t tell if it’s mine or someone else, something else.
I see a light emanating from its cell, a light so faint as to hardly be there at all. As I approach the metal bars, I see it’s from a plastic star, like a night-light or key-chain lamp. It’s lying on the ground on the other side of the iron web. Lying between the paws of the Solarian.
I think distantly of the Solarian delegates that summered at Havenfall in centuries past. How sometimes they’d run through the woods in their beast forms, and other times they’d be all but human, sleeping in the same little eaved rooms as everyone else, eating in the dining hall, talking politics, dancing in the ballroom. Not monsters at all.
The beast is watching me. There’s something so aware in its posture. In how it holds its left foreleg tenderly close to its body. In its eyes.
Those eyes that look so. Damn. Familiar.
And just like that, something clicks. One more tectonic plate groaning into place, just a fraction of an inch, but in that instant my whole world warps.
My knees give out. I catch myself on the gate, threading my fingers through. The Solarian fills my vision, the only thing in the world.
“It’s you.” My words stumble out, a ragged whisper. “It’s you, isn’t it?”
The Solarian blinks. Black, blue, black again. Immeasurable sadness in the look she gives me.
And then smoke streams over her body, dark as ink, coming from nowhere I can discern.
When it clears, Taya is lying on the stone.
Her hair spills over the ground, the lightest thing in this dark tunnel.
She is naked, battered, and when the strange smoke dissipates, her eyes are closed.
I don’t even realize I’m moving, unlocking the door with the guard’s keys. Although my mind is still blank with shock, I yank my T-shirt over my head and drop it by her. In my jeans and cami, I run farther down the hall, softly calling out to Brekken.
There’s a moment of nothing, then the snick of a match flaring and an oil lamp flickers to life. My heart jumps so violently I almost think it’s going to tear out of my chest as yellow light illuminates the contours of Brekken’s face.
He’s sitting against the far wall of another makeshift cell. He drops the spent match and looks up at me.
“Shh,” I say, moving up to the iron net separating Brekken from me, and I put my hands on the cold metal, too finely woven to put anything more than fingers through. I unlock the cell door. “Your cloak,” I gasp.
He doesn’t argue, his face pinched with worry as he swings off his fur cloak and opens the door to hand it to me.
Taya has raised herself into a sitting position by the time I get back. She looks terrible, gaunt and so pale, with bruises marring her face, torso, and arms and legs. But there’s a determination in her expression like nothing I’ve ever seen, hard and permanent as if carved out of marble, and a faint glow lights up her eyes like oil slicks. Black, no color, and every color at the same time.