by E. A. James
“Adrik,” Leonie scolded softly, shaking her head.
Adrik didn’t look back at her, his eyes focused on his task.
The guard shrunk away and stood by one of the doors, the others standing along one of the tower’s large windows.
A moment later, Adrik turned around and held three sheets of paper in his hands. “I found them.” His eyes scanned one page, and then the next one, and then the last one. “Two guards—Ahmed and Wallah—were scheduled to stand in front of her door between ten o’clock and midnight. No one is scheduled after them. The same is true for the two guards stationed outside my door, but they left a few minutes after Ahmed and Wallah.”
All the guards present went stiff, eyes wide.
The guard coordinator stuttered. “That—that can’t be right.” He approached Adrik and reached for the papers. “May I?”
Adrik cocked an eyebrow—or shifted his stony brow accordingly—but he did hand the guard the papers.
He went through them quickly and paled. “I…I can’t believe such a huge oversight was made.”
Adrik crossed his arms, frown deepening. “I don’t think it was an oversight.”
The guard coordinator went even paler.
Leonie waved at them to obtain their attention. “Who assigns the guards their duties?”
“The royals send assignments and they are doled out by coordinators,” the guard said, wheezing a little. He sucked in a breath and gawked at the papers.
Leonie’s face scrunched. “There isn’t a captain of the guard or anything like that? The chain of command goes straight to the royals?”
The guard coordinator nodded.
“Princess Froda,” Adrik said, lips curled in a snarl.
Leonie lowered her gaze and shook her head. “But…Mathsus didn’t answer my prayer. She had proved me to be the fool. What would killing me gain her?”
“I say we ask,” Adrik said. He turned to the guards. “Where is she?”
The guard went rigid, shoulders raised and gloved hands clenched into tight fists. “No,” he choked out. “No, she would never do such a thing. She’s an opinionated person, but she would never stoop to assassination! That’s absurd.”
Adrik got into the man’s personal space and shoved the papers against his chest. “Where are Wallah and Amed then? Perhaps they won’t be cowardly in the face of truth.”
The guard flinched. “I…I don’t know.”
Adrik spun around and returned to the glass shelf, his large hands looking through all the papers once again.
“We have our honor,” the guard said, shaking his head. “We’re an honorable people—accepting, tolerant, noble. What you’re suggesting…”
The rest of the guards stayed quiet, their gazes locked on Adrik.
Leonie shifted in her seat. “I pray that you’re right,” she said softly, her fingers patting her bandage. “I wish to prevent chaos, not cause it.”
Adrik turned back around slowly, several papers crumpled and crooked in his hands. He glanced over them and blinked rapidly.
Leonie's chest went cold. “Adrik? What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I can’t find today’s schedule, but these…” He walked up to her and dropped some of the pages in her lap. “They show Amed and Wallah guarding the dungeons for the past several months.”
“So?”
Adrik shook his head. “There hasn’t been anyone in the dungeons long term for over a year. The Kingdom of Sallimor has only reported having minor crimes committed within it.” He looked at the guards. “Unless I’m mistaken and you lot have a horde of murderers you’re hiding.”
“No!” the guard cried. “But—but it’s not unusual to have guards stationed in places such as that. Security is security.”
“Fine,” Adrik said, glaring. “But is it normal to have the same two guards on the same exact shift for several months until last night, when they were ordered to guard a Young Duchess’s door for a couple of hours?”
Leonie glanced through the papers and found that this was indeed the case.
The guard’s mouth hung open, and he turned to his fellows. They just shifted on their feet and fiddled with their fingers.
Adrik’s glare deepened. “Take us to the dungeons.”
Leonie nodded. “That’s a good idea. If nothing else, we must clear this mess up.”
The guards relaxed a little, though he was still a shade too pale to be comfortable with this course of the conversation. He clasped his hands together tightly, breaths heaving out of him.
Leonie grunted as she stood, papers falling to the floor and her feet swaying. As Adrik rushed to her side—his arm a solid pillar for her to lean against—she said, “Come on. Now. Take us there.”
In the palace courtyard—in the very center of it where the ground was made out of stone rather than foliage—there was a wide wooden door with several key holes all over its smooth surface. Sunlight gleamed over the door and the bronze key holes, and it seemed to glow a blinding gold.
The guards marched up to it, the guard hanging back with his lips pressed tightly together.
A few guards moved to the side, turned, and tilted their heads back. The other guards continued on to the door, their gloved hands taking out various shaped keys from their respective pockets. Then they all went to specific spots on the door and pushed their keys in the right places.
Leonie, with Adrik’s aid, limped up to this ground-door as the guards pulled it open. A stairwell led downward into pitch blackness.
She stopped right in front of the top step, a shiver dancing over her flesh despite the heat in the air. She bit her lip and squinted, but nothing in the darkness came into detail. Inhaling shakily, she took one tentative step in front of another until she was on the top step.
“I’ll keep an eye out,” Adrik whispered. “You’ll be okay.”
“So will you,” she whispered back, eyes blazing with stubborn determination.
Together, they descended into the darkness, the guards trailing behind them. The lower they got, the cooler the air was and the more solid the steps felt beneath her feet—no chips, no cracks.
The sunlight above her—behind her—was like an angelic ghost whispering at the back of her head. Leonie’s neck ached, the urge to turn and stare into the light twisting into a physical pain. The front of her tickled, anxiety squeezing her veins and tormenting her mind. It was like walking through a sea of blackness, footsteps behind her obscuring the sounds in front of her.
She released a quivering breath, her hand ghosting over Adrik’s chest. She couldn’t feel a heartbeat beneath his rough exterior, and she tensed.
“It’s okay,” he repeated.
“I know,” she said.
Softer, orange light flickered some distance beyond.
Leonie’s right foot tapped the flat ground in front of her. No more steps, just a small source of light far ahead.
She breathed easier and moved faster. At least now, the goal was visible, and the footsteps behind her reminded her of the support she had.
The light was one torch of many, lighting several rows of rusted iron bars—empty cells, vacant chains. The torches created blacker than black shadows, light squirming over the walls and floor.
Leonie peered into each cell as she and Adrik walked past them. And sure enough, they were all empty. “Wait, where are the guards?” She looked down the long hallway, distant bars blurred in her vision. “Ahmed? Wallah? I’m the Young Duchess of Asawiss, and I wish to speak with you.”
One of the torches crackled.
Leonie sucked in the chilled, still air; her blood roaring past her ears. “Come on,” she said, limping forward. “Maybe they’re…” She shook her head.
“They could be hiding,” Adrik said. “If they’re truly a part of something nefarious, that is.”
She glanced at the guards behind her. “Check each cell.”
“For the men?” one of them asked.
“For anything—a clue to their
whereabouts, anything.”
They nodded. And as they backed up and entered various cells, she and Adrik continued onward. Her eyes scanned the bars, the bricks, the chains—her insides clenched. “Why is this place so big if it isn’t needed?”
“I’m sure it was needed, once,” Adrik said. He canted his head toward her, his temple a breadth away from her own. “In truth, it bothers me when a kingdom seems perfect, like this one. Often, it means secrets are being too well kept.”
“That’s a very pessimistic way to look at it.”
“I think you mean realistic.”
“According to you.” She turned to him, her head rubbing against his and sending warmth down to her torso. Her mind spun and her heart beat quickly for a few seconds. Then, she whispered, “There’s good in this world—enough good that you shouldn’t write it all off because of bad experiences.”
“You realize you were nearly murdered in bed last night.”
“And then I was rescued, and it was good people who came to my aide.”
His eyes brightened, even as his eyelids lowered.
Heat bloomed within her, leaving her breathless. She inhaled his earthy scent and closed her eyes. Perhaps it was pathetic to want what she couldn’t have, but he felt so solid against her—his voice rumbling through her flesh, his smooth eyes so dark and enticing—
“What’s that?” Adrik whispered.
She jumped, blushing for some reason. “What’s what?”
He pointed to the cell to her left. “That triangular brick.”
She forced herself to pull away from him and look where he pointed. Through the bars, below the high-hanging chains, there was a yellowish brick in the center of the wall. It was a crooked triangular, the surface jutted.
Leonie glanced to the cell at her right. No triangular brick.
She and Adrik entered the left cell, the door creaking as she pushed it aside. Her fingers slid over the bars until she stumbled against the back wall, her palm pressing against the triangular brick. It moved a little, to the side.
Adrik placed his hand on her lower back.
She curled her fingers around the triangle, her nails digging into the stone creases around it. She pushed the brick, tugged at it, and then she twisted it slightly.
It turned.
She twisted it halfway around, and then the brick popped out. She pulled it out all the way, dropping it to the ground and blinking owlishly at the new gap she had just created.
Staring back at her, was a wrought iron latch – presumably for the door that must lay hidden beyond.
“Guards!” she called as she grabbed the latch and lifted it.
The entire wall groaned, sinking backward a few centimeters.
Leonie released the handle and furrowed her brow. “Is that all it does?”
The guards rushed into the cell behind her. “Young Duchess?” one of them said.
Adrik—his hand still on her lower back—shifted forward and used one hand to push against the wall. It sank further.
Leonie pushed her entire body against the wall, her hands snapping to her bandage when her wound flared. Fortunately, Adrik’s strength—combined with a few of the guards’—made up for her weakened state, forcing the wall down a few meters before the right edge of it was liberated from the frame. It swung inward like a massive door, revealing a corridor also lit by torches.
“What was that?” Froda’s voice echoed down the corridor from…somewhere. “You, go investigate that noise.”
“Hurry,” Leonie whispered, gritting her teeth as she forced herself to speed up—out of Adrik’s arms.
Their footsteps clattered down the corridor as much quieter footsteps echoed down from an adjacent hallway.
Leonie swerved around into the mouth of this adjacent hallway, her body hunched over herself but her head still raised high. She came face-to-face with the two guards—presumably Ahmed and Wallah—their faces going slack with shock as they froze.
She stepped back, eyes wide. “What’s happening here? Explain yourselves.”
Their hands snapped to the hilt of their swords.
Adrik angled himself in front of her, his chest puffed out and his hands clenched into large fists.
The guards behind her unsheathed their own swords behind cries of surprise.
Ahmed and Wallah flinched, leaning back on their haunches. Ahmed’s hand lingered on his sword, but Wallah raised his hands in surrender.
Adrik growled at Ahmed.
Ahmed sighed, his hands falling to his sides before he—with obvious reluctance—raised them in surrender, as well.
“Take us to Princess Froda, I heard her voice echo down the chamber,” Leonie said. She came to lean against Adrik’s arm, her eyes hard on the two guards. “Now.”
They traveled down several hallways—small, cramped spaces with dust and cobwebs coating their ceilings.
And then they turned right, into a large room with tall poles that burned a bright unnatural blue on their tops. The walls glimmered like opaque glass, the area spacious except for two beds in the center. Princess Froda, eyes closed and arms crossed over her chest, rested on the right bed.
A boney, starving man lay chained in the bed beside her. He stared blankly at the ceiling, the side of his agape mouth. His inner arms had been slit open, tubes jutting out of it and leading into…
Leonie blanched, morbid curiosity forcing her to take one step after another toward the horrifying sight.
The tubes went beneath Froda’s back and head. Her fingers tapped her clavicle at a slow and steady rhythm, a black and red glow emanating from her fingertips. It was such a soft glow—Leonie nearly didn’t see it.
One of the guards hissed a curse.
Froda’s eyes snapped open, red sparkling in her irises before it faded away. She sat up and bared her teeth at them. “I knew—I knew your heresy would condemn this world. You have no idea what damage you’ll wreak on us all.”
Leonie gaped. “What? What are you talking about?” She glanced at the poor starving man and her heart lurched. “What are you doing to him?!”
She rose in a graceful swift, the tubes still linking to the back of her being. Her hair flowed past her shoulders, her dark eyes alert and her thin mouth unmoving. She didn’t even glance at the man who was dying beside her. She just glared at Leonie. “Your ignorance dooms you.” She raised her gaze to the guards. “Arrest them. They’re sentenced to death for treason.”
Adrik stiffened, stepping back so that he stood partially behind Leonie in the event the guards to their rear followed her instructions.
The guards did nothing.
Froda’s face contorted with rage. “Are you deaf?! Arrest them!” She swiped her hand toward Adrik and Leonie.
Still, the guards did nothing.
Mind reeling, Leonie’s eyes darted between the man and Froda. “Release him, Princess! I don’t have to understand much to know that you’re killing someone!” She moved forward, reaching for him.
Froda stepped up and snarled. “You know nothing! You and my father—so alike, so foolish.”
Adrik huffed. “If you must carry on in a foolish manner, at least be informing. Explain yourself, if you’re even capable.”
Froda reddened, eye twitching. “You—you Gargan filth. You—” She growled out gibberish. “King Gier’s idiocy is an insult to this kingdom! Our people are smarter and stronger than others. We know how to educate, how to protect, how to lead—we need to be guiding the world in the right direction, not letting these other kingdoms squander by their own destructive nature.
“But Gier only ever cares about Sallimor. He only ever focuses on Sallimor and their success, as if the outside politics can never affect us.”
She scoffed. “And insultingly, the man keeps living! He wrinkles and wrinkles into a twisted goblin, but he doesn’t die!”
Leonie’s mouth fell open, her posture rigid and her heart freezing over. “I…what?”
“Only I know what Olnorma ne
eds!” Froda seethed, fingers curling like she was clawing the air. “I know how to unite us under one banner! I know how to ensure peace and equality amongst us all. But I’ll never get the chance to do any of it so long as my father has the throne to himself.”
She glanced at the starving man. “Sacrifices are necessary to ensure my power. To ensure righteousness. Gier’s life has gone on long enough. It must end, and it must end by someone with true greatness—someone who can’t be defeated.”
