“Prince Arlen has done unforgivable things for which his sentence is death. Immediate arrangements must be made.” His words made her knees go weak. However, she managed to remain upright.
Angie grabbed onto the door frame for support as she watched him disappear down the hall.
“Inside,” Zeke demanded.
He was a quiet one. His tall, lithe frame bordered on lanky and awkward, yet he moved as silently as a tiger. Angie knew she was trapped. She’d never outrun him or outmaneuver him. She’d have to find another way out. Arlen was depending on her. She hadn’t been raised a quitter. It wasn’t a trend she was going to begin either.
She followed her captor’s orders and slipped into her designated bedroom and stepped several feet into the room. As soon as she was out of the way of the door, it swung shut behind her. Angie heard the telltale metallic grinding of the lock being turned over.
Momentary panic set in, but she had to keep her head. Logic and methodical execution of a plan would be her only ally. She eyed her room. It was a lot smaller than she’d thought. A single four poster bed with green covers stood against the furthest wall. Windows above the bed lit the room. Other than her bed, there was an armoire and a dressing table with basic hygiene utensils laid out as if she were going to perform surgery. It was nothing extraordinary and actually, pretty basic for a royal household. She made a mental note to learn more about the Fae’s way of life after everything calmed down again. She focused on the business at hand.
They’d locked her away in a god damn castle like some spoiled, helpless princess. Well, Angela Broussard was far from helpless. She had skills and a temper that tended to peak when it came to situations involving the opposite sex.
Didn’t old castles like that have secret passageways or hidden doors connecting rooms? She eyed each wall and corner carefully, trying to determine which was more likely to hold a way out. The problem was that they all looked the same.
She didn’t have time to search for an invisible solution when Arlen’s life was on the line. He couldn’t wait for her. She pulled her messy bun down from its perch high on her head. Running her fingers through her hair, she found the answer to all of her prayers.
Between her thumb and forefinger, she held a small black bobby pin. She had dated some questionable characters over the years, and one had a small problem with breaking and entering. He’d taught her everything he knew about picking locks. Ironically, picking a lock was what had caused their split.
Kneeling in front of the door, she pressed her ear to the cool wood. She couldn’t hear any movement outside her room. Angie pulled and contorted the pin until it resembled something she could use. When it finally met her relatively low standards, she checked for signs of life outside. She wasn’t going to jeopardize her escape.
Silence.
Stealthily, Angie jammed the twisted pin into the lock’s mechanism. Patience would be the key. Picking a lock was a task that could become frustrating very quickly, so with a deep breath Angie set to work.
She pressed the top pick into the bottom part of the mechanism and pressed on it. Shimmying the other half of the pin, Angie tried to manipulate the pins into their set positions, believing she had the correct key. One by one, they clicked into their proper places until she had the last one remaining. It was proving to be considerably more difficult than the others to move. It felt like it had been far too long without a good oiling. Locks could seize without lubrication and render her efforts useless.
“Shit! Come on,” she pleaded, hoping whatever higher power there was out there was listening and would take pity on her cause. She just needed to finally catch a break.
Angie froze.
She could’ve sworn she’d heard something in the hall. Pulling the pin out of the lock, she pressed her ear against the door and strained to hear anything going on outside. The sound of footsteps grew louder and more obvious. They sounded light, unlike a man’s heavy booted steps and there was more than one person. Soon, she heard the feminine whispers of the interlopers. It wasn’t a language she could understand, but gossip was an international language for which there was no mistaking. She made out Arlen’s name among the lilting words.
Angie wagered the pair of women were household staff, perhaps house maids or laundresses. Images of a Downton Abbey style household made her grin. The help always seemed to live vicariously through the higher class members of the house and with a King like Lorik, she could only imagine the things people there heard or saw.
The voices slowly ventured out of range of Angie’s ears and she waited a moment, in case anyone else happened to pass by. She heard nothing besides the sound of her stifled breathing and without delaying another second she dove back into the lock with renewed fervor.
The second time, someone above had heard her pleas and lent her a helping hand. Without much resistance, each pin slipped aside and when she came to the last one, she shimmied it just right. The lock popped open with a victorious click.
Twisting the knob, she jerked the door open and poked her head around the doorframe.
The coast was clear.
She was pretty sure she could find her way back to where she’d last seen Arlen in the throne room. The castle wasn’t particularly complicated or difficult to navigate. If anything, Angie thought it was a little on the predictable side. However, she doubted they’d keep Arlen there. They probably took him somewhere like the dungeon for holding. How soon could Lorik move forward with an execution? If he felt the need, he might not wait.
The dungeon it was.
There had been several sets of stairs they’d passed along the way and two had sets going down. Angie focused on those. The throne room had been one level down from the bedrooms. Angie had counted the rooms as she’d passed them, determined to find her way back.
She’d passed seven rooms on the second floor before arriving at her gilded cage. Like a little map, she checked each room off as she passed them in reverse followed by a left turn.
It was the first set of stairs, these went down from there, but didn’t go any lower than the main floor of the throne chamber. Every corridor was laid with carpets which helped to keep her progress hidden. She hadn’t passed anyone which she thought was odd. She hadn’t seen many people on her way up, but there’d been a few. None had raised their gaze enough to meet hers, so she doubted she’d be recognized. Yet, even those people had disappeared.
She counted the suites again as she came to the next hall. It was a short one with only three apartments before turning a corner into a much longer hall. At the end of the corridor was the throne chamber, but there were twenty-four rooms between her and it which didn’t account for the stairs.
One, two, three, four…still there were no signs of life. The stairs going to the lower levels were two suites away. Angie tiptoed to pass them and started down the stairs, but stopped when she thought she heard shouts in the distance.
She couldn’t make out what was being said or pinpoint where it was coming from, but it gave her an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach that had her climbing the steps back to the top. Checking both ways, she rounded the corner towards the throne chamber. There had been window outside it where she could get a better visual. That was what she was aiming for.
The closer she got to the cavernous hall, the louder the chanting became. No guards were present at their station, nervous energy bounced in her gut. The noise was coming from outside. Angie sprinted the last few yards to the alcove where the window sat and almost threw up at what she saw.
Outside, there was a large courtyard overflowing with villagers. In the middle of the yard, a dais had been erected. It was surrounded by at least three hundred angry citizens, all shouting for blood. There wouldn’t be a proper trial for her mate, they were going to kill first and ask questions later.
She couldn’t make out the executioner or her lover among the faces in the crowd. That was a good sign. It would make things so much more complicated if she had to rescu
e him in front of a psychotic king and an angry mob.
Angie heard voices coming from inside the royal hall. One was Lorik and the other she had never heard before. She was mere feet from the entrance and was sure to be seen if she stayed put. Panicking, she bolted for the nearest stairs. She hit the bottom step at the same time the doors creaked open.
“Sir Cranagh will be here within the hour, Your Majesty. Crowds are already gathering with news of the traitor’s capture.”
“Very well. Please notify me of his arrival. I’m eager to put this behind us.” Lorik’s voice faded down the hall as they passed her hiding spot.
Angie hoped the King wasn’t going to check on her. She held her breath and clung to the shadows, sending up silent prayers they wouldn’t notice her. Angie hugged the wall tightly. Her heart pounded in her chest and in her head as she refused to exhale.
She heard the sound of liquid sloshing and turned slowly to face the source of the sound. It was too dark to see much further than a few feet. Angie carefully shuffled along the wall, venturing further into the darkness. The echoes of liquid being poured stopped and so did Angie.
“Hey! What are you doing down here?” It wasn’t a voice she recognized and she instinctively took a step back, away from the sound.
She heard clothing ruffling and turned to run. A hand closed around her upper arm like a steel trap and pulled her close. It was a guard. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!
Angie tried to squirm out of his grip, but it was impossible. He was too strong.
“No one’s supposed to be down here. You’re coming with me,” he said as he pulled her in the direction of the stairs. She jerked as hard as she could, making the guard stumble trying to force her along with him.
The sound of metal jingling caught her off guard. Her captor was jerked off his feet and slammed against the metal grate behind him. Angie could barely make out the arm squeezing the guard’s throat. It was an inmate, however, she couldn’t see who it was. The man was kicking and trying to buck out of the prisoner’s grip to no avail. After a a couple of seconds the man fell limp and was dropped to the floor. Angie stood still, making sure she stayed out of the prisoner’s reach. She glanced at the stairs and sidled along the wall away from the unconscious guard and dangerous prisoner. She’d ventured further than she had realized. Angie took a few steps and was determined to get out of there.
“Angie? What the fuck are you doing down here? I thought I told you not to do anything stupid?”
Angie almost came out of her skin as she jumped at the voice. Her breath came out in a woosh. She turned to see Arlen locked away behind a metal grate. It reeked of grime, waste, and other things she couldn’t stomach discovering.
“Ar? I had to find you! We need to get you out of here. I heard them talking about needing to wait for someone to get the show started.”
She stepped back, searching for a way to get him out. As she had descended into the holding prison, the structure of the building had changed. It was no longer the brick and mortar castle, but more of a cave. The cell was built into the sheer rock face of the castle’s foundation. The typically weak edges of the grate were buried in stone and inaccessible. She knew that being Fae came with come perks, like being much stronger than humans. However, even Arlen wouldn’t be strong enough to break through solid stone.
The lock wasn’t like anything she’d ever seen before. It was padlocked shut, but there was no keyhole. Picking it was not an option.
“Baby, I need to you help me here. I’ve never seen anything like it. How does this work?”
“Angela, listen to me. You need to go. If Lorik finds you down here, it’s game over. There’s no way to unlock it. Only the person who locked it can reverse it and I doubt that even your best charms could convince Lorik to let me walk out of here.”
Angie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He was giving up. After everything, he was just accepting it. Well, there was no way on God’s green earth she was accepting his choice.
“Arlen…whatever your last name is! You listen here, mister. I am not leaving this nasty ass dungeon without you. Now is the time you put up or shut up. If you love me, you will get me out of here,” she demanded unrelentingly.
She felt bad using their special bond as a weapon, but sometimes a person has to save another from themselves. All is fair in love and war and all that jazz. That’s what she told herself anyways. It was best for him, even if he grew to hate her for it.
“Ruthless. It looks good on you. As for the lock, I don’t have a way out. For your sake, I wish I did, but I don’t know a way out of this. The Fae have spent hundreds of years developing impenetrable technologies.”
He looked as lost as she felt. Refusing to accept defeat, she began her search for something large enough to use as a club. Maybe she could break the lock, the hinges, or something with it.
Arlen seemed to be the only prisoner for the time being. She worried briefly whether she’d occupy a cell close to him if they got caught. Who was she kidding? If they were caught, Arlen would be killed on the spot. She’d be on her own, unless what the King had said was true and she’d die right along with Arlen.
“What are you doing?” he asked, eying her strangely as she made her way away from him and further into the dark pit of the dungeon.
“You’ll see. Just keep and eye out for anyone who might be coming down here.”
Angie grabbed ahold of the guard’s leg and tugged him down the row of cells, deeper into the prison. Once she was sure no one would hear him if he woke up, she dragged him into one of the cells. Rifling through his pockets, she tried to find a key to the lock or another padlock. His pockets were empty though. She needed to find something to get Arlen out.
She went cell to cell, searching. Each was empty until she got to the second last one. At the base of the cave’s face was evidence of a prior prisoner’s attempt to mine their way out. The light was too dim to make anything out clearly, but she was almost certain there was a large rock broken off. She entered the cell and squat down next to it. She followed the crack around the edge of the stone. It had been broken out and put back securely like someone had been trying to hide it. Had that prisoner made it out? Or had he met his end?
With a quick jerk, she pulled the rock free. It was as dark as slate and nearly the size of a softball. It would have to suffice.
She grabbed the stone and made her way back to Arlen.
“Anyone pass by upstairs?” she asked.
She knew they were running out of time. Someone would come for him soon.
Arlen shook his head. “Nope,” he said, popping the P at the end when he realized she probably couldn’t see him.
Angie lifted the rock above her head and slammed it against the padlock. It ricocheted off as if it held a force field around it, preventing any threat from getting close. She didn’t believe it at first. So, she slammed the padlock over and over again and each time she failed to make contact.
“Angie, stop! Someone’s coming,” Arlen hissed.
She raised the stone to swing it again just as his words registered with her brain.
“Shitake mushroom!”
Angela pulled the tiny boulder to her stomach and scanned the immediate area for somewhere to hide. A few feet from Arlen’s cell was an end wall, she ducked around the corner and crouched as low as she could. From there, she was enough out of sight that she wouldn’t be noticed, but she could still keep an eye on anyone who was coming into the dungeon. That’s what she hoped for anyways.
Within a handful of seconds, the lanky guard who’d brought her in stepped off the bottom step and right up to the door of Arlen’s cell.
“Get back from the door. You know the drill,” he barked, his hand at the ready on his weapon.
Arlen didn’t glance towards her hiding spot. He understood what she needed from him. He had to keep the guard talking.
Distraction.
“Zeke, been a long time, old friend.”
“You
’re no friend of mine, traitor. Now get back before I make you move.”
“Those are some harsh words for someone who saw what my father was doing, what he’d become. You know me better than that, Zeke.”
“Yeah, I sure thought I did. I’d never have thought you were capable of the horror you rained down on all of us. Fuck man, your own sister? No, I don’t know you at all. Now, get the fuck back. This is the last time I’m asking.”
Angie took the opportunity while the pair were occupied with their conversation to slink out from her hiding spot, carrying the rock along with her. Her muscles ached with the strain of wielding the heavy object, but she’d only have to one more time.
Hopefully.
She secured her grip around it and took each step as silently as she could. He hadn’t noticed anything amiss yet and she prayed he wouldn’t either.
“So that’s what Lorik’s been telling people. That I killed them all. How rich.” Arlen’s humorless tone was bitter.
Angela could tell he was bothered by others laying his sister and mother’s deaths at his feet.
“It’s the truth,” Zeke answered, slipping the key into a previously invisible keyhole. Instead of twisting it, he left it there and placed both hands over it. With a bright flash of blinding light, the padlock snapped open and fell to the ground. That was Angie’s chance.
His back was still to her as she moved up right behind him, never making a sound. He unsheathed his blade, keeping it trained on Arlen.
“Alright, now. Slowly, place your hands above your head and step out here,” he ordered, pointing to the spot right before him.
Right as he stepped backwards and began to turn towards her, she swung the heavy mass through the air.
It connected with the side of Zeke’s head with a sickening thud. The guard crumpled to the floor in a heap without making a peep. She dropped the stone like it was diseased. She couldn’t believe it. What had she done?
As soon as Zeke went down, Arlen sprung into action. He grabbed up the sword and pulled the man down the row into a cell further back from the door.
Broken (The Voodoo Revival Series Book 3) Page 14
