Courtesy of Rachel, who’d been under the impression that we wanted the clothes for exercise, all of us were dressed for battle. Laurie wore what looked like tactical pants, and a tight, cowl neck sweater clung to his hard body. He’d brought the sword that Tabitha delivered to him in her dragon form, and it hung off his hip in a black leather sheath. His hair was braided back, a detail that had me darting looks at him every few seconds. I’d never seen it braided before. Gil wore a long-sleeved shirt and the same pants as Laurie, his feet protected by thick combat boots. As for myself, I was in a zip-up sweatshirt, black exercise pants, and black tennis shoes.
I longed for a Glock in my hand, but asking Rachel for one hadn’t seemed prudent. She definitely would’ve gotten suspicious then. I’d considered asking Laurie to fetch it, but the fact that he hadn’t offered seemed telling. Getting stabbed with a holy blade had really done a number on him.
The realization still bothered me, even now, as we made our way through the shadowed tunnels on a rescue mission that could go wrong in a hundred different ways. This thought had also occurred to Gil—the air was thick with his anxiety and the bond churned. Laurie led the way, keeping whatever he felt expertly hidden behind that formidable mental barrier of his. None of us attempted conversation, but that didn’t mean it was silent.
Despite its change in leadership, other things about the Unseelie Court had remained the same. For instance, the sounds were still disconcerting. Behind one door there were furious whispers, arguing back and forth… but it was only one voice, one speaker. He became more incensed with every moment, and I quickened my pace, eager to pass. Behind another door came humming. Low, off-key humming, broken now and then with a strange giggle. Behind yet another was the undeniable sounds of sex, flesh slapping against flesh. Laurie didn’t smirk back at me or make a comment. This, combined with the straight line of his shoulders, gave away his own tension.
At long last, we stopped at the crack in the wall that would lead down to the dungeons. I never thought I’d be glad to see it, but the sooner we got this rescue over with, the sooner we could leave this House of Horrors.
“Remember,” Laurie started, facing me.
“…only summon you if I’m dying,” I finished. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”
“I know you do.” He stepped closer and skimmed his finger along the side of my wrist. Such a small touch, and already my heart was racing. A strand of hair had come loose from his braid. I stopped myself from reaching for it, conscious of Gil’s presence. Laurie had no such qualms, and his voice floated around me like a second caress. “Don’t hold back, Firecracker. Show these people who you really are.”
Sparing me from a response, he removed the torch from a nearby sconce and held it out. I took it automatically, and my cheeks burned as I darted a glance at Gil, wondering what he thought of our brief exchange.
The vampire looked back with a tense expression, his jaw clenched. He didn’t care about Laurie—he was anxious about letting me go into the dungeons alone. I winked at Gil and switched the torch to my other hand, using my right to hit him in the arm. “Hey, I’m hard to kill, remember? You would know.”
“A fact I haven’t forgotten, by the way,” Laurie put in, giving Gil a warm smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Gil didn’t react to the threat. He barely spared Laurie a glance, in fact, and I couldn’t remember the last time someone was so unswayed by him. I bet it’s annoying the shit out of Laurie. I had to suppress a smile at the thought.
“If something goes wrong, I’ll know, and I’ll come,” Gil promised me.
He said it like a fact, without any of the human nuances or gestures usually accompanying words like that. I struggled to hide a frown. Would Gil be so concerned if he didn’t have a spell on him? Guilt and worry battered at my mind, and as always, my first instinct was to run from them.
“I’ll see you soon,” I said. Turning from Gil and Laurie, I went down the stairs without hesitation.
My breathing was loud in my ears. I reached the bottom before I was ready, and I moved the torch forward, casting light over the rows of rusted bars along one side of the narrow, seemingly endless space. I didn’t see a single person, but I could hear them. Down here, the quiet was more pronounced. It was disrupted by the occasional cough or groan.
Every muscle in my body felt like a taut violin string as I tried not to think about my own time behind those bars. The plan. Stick to the plan, Fortuna. I took a few steps and stopped, looking left and right. Where was the guard? Why hadn’t anyone come yet? Damn it, everything hinged on the Guardian. I faltered again and looked in the opposite direction. Maybe we’d arrived in the midst of a shift change…
“Well met, Lady Sworn.”
The voice came from the cell closest to me, and I knew I’d heard it before. I stopped and searched for the owner, straining to make out details within the dimness. The shape of the figure sitting there was also vaguely familiar. It was one of the council members, I realized a moment later. The one with all the doctorate degrees and the kind, gray eyes. He’d always been kind to me during those wretched meetings.
“Eamon?” I stepped closer to the bars. “What happened? Why are you down here?”
The faerie didn’t move, but his response came out of the dark. “I made a grave miscalculation during an interaction with our new queen, and I questioned one of her new policies during a dinner party. She had her Guardians arrest me on the spot. Treason, I believe the official reason was. Lady Yarrow committed the same sin.”
Lady Yarrow was another member of the council. I was about to ask him about her fate when I heard a shuffling sound. I knew it hadn’t been made by Eamon. Frowning, I took a step forward and peered into the next cell. I almost didn’t recognize Lady Yarrow, who’d been wearing a pearl-encrusted gown the last time our paths crossed, her hair done up in ringlets. She didn’t say anything to me, and I shifted back to Eamon’s cell, chewing the skin off my lower lip as I thought.
No wonder Micah had been so wary of crossing Viessa—she’d already made an example of these two. The new queen was a paradox. One day she was employing young women and providing them with generous salaries, and the next she was throwing people into the dungeon for daring to speak against her.
She reminded me… of me.
The revelation wasn’t a good one. I swallowed and refocused on Eamon’s silhouette. I wanted to tell him that I’d fix this. Get him out of this mess. But I still hadn’t managed to save the person I’d actually come for, and I didn’t know if we’d pull this plan off, even without the added complications of trying to free two other prisoners.
I couldn’t leave him like this, sitting in complete darkness. There was an empty sconce nearby, and I slid my stolen torch into the metal ring. The flame’s gentle light reached into Eamon’s cell. I shifted back into his line of sight, knowing I had to move on. “I’m sorry,” I said, surprised that I meant it. “I’m sorry she put you in here.”
Despite his circumstances, the faerie lord still addressed me as if we were facing each other across a table. I could hear his polite smile as he answered, “Fret not, Lady Sworn. Having power doesn’t eliminate danger; it only increases it. I knew there were many risks when I accepted my bloodline’s chair.”