by Jayne Castel
Asher swept his right hand before him, struggling to gather the Light. However, keeping the cloak aloft had drained his reserves. The weak rays of sunlight, filtering into the tunnel, refused to respond.
It was over.
17
Poor Liars
MIRA STEPPED INTO the hall and glanced across at Asher, their gazes fusing for a heartbeat.
Say nothing. The message in his eyes was clear, and Mira would heed it.
They walked across a wide space, their boots sinking into thick sawdust. The hall smelled of freshly milled timber, iron, and male sweat. It was an austere space with no adornment on the walls. A huge hearth dominated the center of the hall, with long tables either side, and there was a raised platform up one end. This was a man’s domain; there were no feminine touches here, no herbs sprinkled amongst the sawdust, no smells of cooking.
Dark-haired men with tanned skin and aquiline features surrounded them. The looks on their faces were hungry, expectant. They knew they’d caught a prize.
Like her companions, Mira walked with her hands bound before her. The soldiers who’d captured them had fastened the rope so tightly she was fast losing sensation in her hands.
A huge man clad in boiled leather, a grey wolf-skin cloak hanging from his shoulders, awaited them at the end of the hall. His greying dark hair was cropped short against his scalp, and he had a long puckered scar on his right cheek. His dark gaze tracked the newcomers across the floor.
“What do we have here?” he asked the men flanking the prisoners. “Is this the girl they're looking for?”
“She could be.” One of the men behind them shoved Ninia forward. He pushed her so roughly that the girl tripped and fell to her knees in the sawdust. Although the princess’s round face was drawn with fear, she remained composed. She cast a look of venom over her shoulder at the man who had shoved her. “Don’t touch me.”
This caused a rumble of laughter from the surrounding soldiers.
“She’s certainly got the manner of a princess,” one of them noted. “What do you think, Commander?”
The garrison commander stepped down from the wooden platform and crossed to his prisoners. His gaze swept over Ninia and Mira, before it came to a rest on Asher. “Who are you?”
“I'm a merchant from The Royal City of Rithmar,” Asher replied smoothly. “This is my wife and daughter. We’re just trying to get home.”
The commander watched him, his gaze narrowing. His gaze flicked to Mira and Ninia before returning to Asher. “Funny you managed to get all the way into the tunnel without being spotted … that’s quite a feat. I'll ask you again,” he murmured. “Who are you?”
Mira’s skin prickled at the quiet menace in his voice. She’d met few men who scared her, but this one did. Cold, oily fear curled in the pit of her belly.
“I’m a merchant,” Asher repeated, his voice flat, his face an aloof mask. “These are my—”
The commander’s fist shot out and slammed into Asher’s jaw. The enchanter lurched back, colliding with the men standing behind him. They shoved him forward so he fell to his knees on the sawdust. Blood dribbling from his mouth, Asher looked up. He met the commander's gaze once more, his silver eyes narrowed.
“Is that still your answer?” the man asked.
Asher spat out a gob of blood and wiped his mouth. “It is.”
The commander gave a cold smile. His gaze shifted to Mira, raking over her from head to foot in a way that made her skin crawl. “Your wife's a striking woman,” he noted. “With hair like that, there must be some Anthor blood in her veins.”
Mira tensed. He was right. Her mother had been from Mirrar Rock, Anthor’s capital, and Mira had inherited her thick raven hair.
“A body that ripe should be shared,” he continued before reaching out and lazily tracing a fingertip down the line of Mira’s cheekbone and jaw. “Do you have anything to say?”
Mira inhaled slowly and tried to ignore the fear that still slithered in the pit of her belly. “My husband speaks the truth,” she murmured, feigning meekness. “We are but a humble merchant family trying to return home.”
The commander’s lip curled. “You’re both poor liars.” He stepped closer, his nearness almost overpowering. His hand continued its path, down her neck and past her collar bone. Then he grasped one of her breasts and squeezed hard.
Next to Mira, Asher grunted in outrage and staggered to his feet, only to be shoved back down to his knees again by the men behind him. Mira stared back at the commander, stone-faced. He was hurting her, his iron fingers bruising her flesh. “Let go of me,” she hissed.
He grinned in response, his grip tightening. “No … I’m enjoying this too much.”
Mira reacted. She twisted out of his grip and leaped back, elbowing the man behind her in the neck as she did so. Then she swung one booted foot up and hit the commander square in the chest.
He staggered back, nearly losing his footing, and righted himself to find Mira in fighting stance before him. His heavy-featured face split into a grin, and Mira realized then he’d groped her in order to provoke a reaction. He’d wanted her to reveal her true identity.
“It’s as I thought,” he murmured. “An enchanter, a Swallow, and a princess. Quite a catch.” He nodded to the men who had now circled the prisoners. “Take these three up, strip them of any weapons, and lock them in the tower room. I have some pleasing news for the king.”
The room was bare, lined with wood-paneled walls and scrubbed floorboards. There was only one small window, which had been tightly shuttered and bolted, and an iron door that had been locked from the outside.
Asher, Mira, and Ninia sat on the floor, their ankles and wrists shackled in iron. Silence stretched between the three of them; they hadn’t spoken since being dragged up here.
Asher leaned back against the wall and glanced up at the heavy beams on the ceiling above him. His mouth tasted of iron, from his blood, yet the bitter taste of failure was worse. What a mess.
A loud sniff interrupted his brooding.
Asher looked over at where the princess was watching him. She was sniffing; her nose had turned red, and her eyes were watery. The cold had come on quickly. He’d expected to see her weeping, yet although her expression was stricken, she was calm. “I’m sorry,” she said “This is my fault.”
“Yes, it is,” Mira replied from across the room. “I can’t believe you did that … couldn’t you have kept it in?”
Ninia drew herself up, her contrition dissolving. “I couldn’t help it. The sneeze came from nowhere.”
“We were so close,” Mira growled. “You've ruined everything.”
“Enough,” Asher interrupted as the princess opened her mouth to reply. “There’s no point casting blame now. Instead of arguing we need to find a way out of this mess.”
Opposite him Mira raised her manacled wrists, her lip curling. “How exactly?”
Asher had no answer for that. His jaw still ached from the hit he’d taken. He could feel a bruise forming. He glanced back over at Mira, watching her for a few moments before speaking. “He hurt you, didn’t he?”
The Swallow held his gaze for a moment before looking away. “No.”
Time passed slowly in that room. A single cresset above the door illuminated the space in dull orange, yet the three prisoners had little idea of what was happening beyond those walls.
Mira listened to the heavy thump of feet across the landing outside the room, and the creak of men climbing the wooden stairwell. And finally, outside, she heard the horn blow once more, followed by the clank of iron as the twin portcullises were lifted, and the groan of wood and iron as the gates opened.
Mira had hardly spoken a word since they’d been thrown in here. Her breast hurt—a dull throb that pulsed with her heartbeat—and she simmered with silent fury.
That bastard would pay for touching her.
“It’ll be nearing dusk.” Asher broke the silence. “If they’re opening the gates again.�
�
Dusk. They’d been in here since noon, but it felt longer.
The princess sneezed loudly. “Why haven’t they come for us again?”
Mira glanced across at her, noting the faint sheen of sweat that now covered Ninia’s face. “They’re keeping us here for someone.”
“That commander we saw in Thornmere,” Asher spoke up from across the room. “They’re likely waiting for him.”
A chill settled over Mira at his words, penetrating the anger that enshrouded her in a warm cloak. They’d been so close. And now she sat just yards away from freedom yet unable to reach it. She wasn’t angry at Ninia anymore; the princess hadn’t given them away deliberately. Ninia had more to lose than any of them.
I’m going back to Veldoras. The thought filled Mira with despair. In chains. She glared down at her shackled wrists.
A faint tapping sound drew her from her brooding. She glanced up, tensing. “What’s that?”
Asher glanced across at the shuttered window. “It’s coming from outside.”
He got to his feet and shuffled across to the window, his chains clanking after him. Curious, Mira got up and joined him. Their shackles scraped loudly on the wooden floor, but there was a lot of noise in the fort anyway this evening. Men’s voices echoed up from the hall downstairs as they sat down for supper. The thump of tankards on the wooden tables and the clatter of iron knives and plates masked the clank and scrape of the chains.
Together, Asher and Mira started unbolting the heavy wooden shutters. Fortunately for them, this leaguefort didn’t appear to have any dungeons or proper holding cells for prisoners. The commander had put them in the most secure room he had and posted guards outside the iron door—yet there were no locks on the window. They’d just bolted it shut.
The shutters swung inward, and Mira’s gaze settled upon the white hawk perched upon the wooden ledge.
Mira smiled. She hadn’t welcomed Grim’s company over the past few days, but she was pleased to see him now.
Asher reached out and stroked the hawk on the back of the neck with his forefinger. “If you’ve any ideas on how to get us out of here, we’re ready to hear them.”
Grim cocked his head, watching Asher. However, he made no sound. He seemed to realize that one of his ear-splitting screeches would only bring the guards running.
Mira gave Asher a sidewise glance. “Does that bird understand you?”
“I’m not sure,” he replied. “Sometimes I think he does.”
Mira turned from the window and shuffled back across to where Ninia sat watching them. She then bent down, raised her manacled hands, and removed two long hair clips from the princess’s pinned up curls.
“What—” Ninia began, frowning.
“I’ll explain later,” Mira cut her off.
Returning to the window, Mira got to work on adjusting the clips. The first she bent in the shape of a foot, the second she stretched out before bending it slightly in the middle and fashioning a hook on one end. It wasn’t easy to see as she worked, for the light thrown out by the cresset above the door barely reached the window. Beyond, night had fallen. The woodlands to the south were a black silhouette against the purple sky.
“What are you doing?”
Mira glanced up to find Asher watching her, an incredulous look on his face.
“Can you give Grim instructions on how to pick a lock?”
Asher’s gaze widened. “I have no idea if he’ll understand me.”
“Well, let’s find out.”
Asher’s mouth curved. “Picking locks? How does a Swallow gain such a skill?”
Mira held his gaze. “I told you … I had another life before this one.”
There was a beat of silence, before Ninia spoke up from behind them. “I didn’t know that … what life?”
“I was orphaned young and grew up a mudlark on the streets of Veldoras. Sometimes hunger drove me to thieve.”
“Really?” The girl actually sounded shocked. “Why didn’t you ever say?”
Mira glanced over her shoulder. “It wasn’t a secret … you never asked.” She looked back down at the two clips she’d finished shaping. “Let’s hope I still remember how to do this.”
She passed Asher the foot-shaped clip. “Ask Grim to take this from you.”
Asher nodded, shifting his attention to the hawk. Grim was watching him intently, and Mira could have sworn the bird had understood her. Wordlessly, Asher held out the clip, and the bird took it in its beak, cocking his head sideways so he held the clip vertically.
Mira gave a tight smile, before she met Asher’s eye once more. “Hold out your wrists and turn them over.”
He did as bid. “You might as well instruct Grim,” Asher said, returning her smile. “He’s listening to you.”
Mira directed her attention at the hawk once more. “Grim … slide that clip into the lock … and keep the tension on it.”
The bird complied, and Mira’s pulse quickened. She leaned forward and inserted the second clip. Inside the lock there were a series of binding pins, which she started to press with the hooked edge of the clip. As she worked, Mira was aware just how close her fingers were to Grim’s wickedly sharp beak. She was also aware of how close she and Asher were standing. She could smell the faint scent of leather and maleness. But after a moment or two, she concentrated, and her surroundings faded.
The last time she’d done this, she had broken into a bakery with a handful of other mudlarks. That had been nearly a month before the queen had captured her. It was a relief to discover that some skills remained with you through the years.
It wasn’t an easy job though. The lock was crude but difficult to pick. It took numerous attempts, while Grim patiently held the clip in place, until she felt the lock give. It released with a clunk, and Asher’s manacles fell away.
Their gazes met, and Mira flashed him a grin of triumph. Asher was watching her with a stunned look. “Impressive.”
“Come on,” she replied, suddenly uncomfortable under the intensity of his stare. “You’re going to have to free me.”
This next step took a while. Asher wielded the clip with the hook, but the pins he tried to set inside the lock kept falling. His face grew tense, sweat beading on his brow as he worked. Time inched by, and the sky outside darkened to pitch-black. The noise downstairs quietened as the men finished their supper and dispersed.
Finally, Asher released the lock, and Mira’s shackles fell away. She moved quickly after that, deftly removing both her and Asher’s ankle-restraints, before she crossed to Ninia and freed her.
18
Unshackled
STRAIGHTENING UP AFTER removing the princess’s shackles, Mira listened for noise on the landing beyond the iron door. The door was so thick it possibly muffled any noise from inside. They were also fortunate the garrison soldiers hadn’t brought them supper—otherwise they would have caught them trying to get free of their irons.
Ninia shivered, pulling her cloak about her. “It’s freezing in here.”
Mira didn’t reply; her attention was on Asher instead as she watched him scan the room. His gaze rested on the flickering cresset above the door. Then he glanced over at the hawk. “You’d better go, Grim,” he said quietly. “It’ll be safer to watch this from above.”
Without a sound, the bird dipped its proud head. Then it launched itself off the window-sill—disappearing into the darkness.
Mira watched Grim go. “What’s the plan then?” she asked Asher. “Can you gather the Light and break the door down?”
“It’s armored … and dead-bolted from the outside.”
Mira raised an eyebrow. “No challenge for you, surely?”
Asher ignored her and crossed instead to the princess. He hunkered down before Ninia and met her eye. “I’m going to need your help,” he said, keeping his voice low. “We must gather the Light together. Will you follow my lead?”
The princess stared back at him before nodding. “I'm not good at contro
lling it,” she warned him. “But I’ll do my best.”
Asher reached down and helped the girl to her feet. Mira stepped close to them, irritated at being ignored. “Mind sharing what you’re up to?”
Asher gave her a cool smile. “We’re going to set this room on fire.”
Mira tensed. “With us in it?”
“I’m afraid so. We need to create a diversion. Wait behind the door. When it opens … kill the guards.”
“With my bare hands?”
“Aye … I know you’re capable of it.”
Their gazes held for a moment before Mira nodded.
Asher and Ninia crossed to the window while Mira took up her place by the door. The princess sneezed again and wiped her streaming nose with the back of her sleeve. Her eyes had taken on a slightly glazed appearance as the fever took hold. “I’m ready,” she said before giving a loud sniff.
Asher nodded and gathered the Light with his right hand, holding out his left with the palm upward. The orange flames burning in the cresset spat upward and flew in a single fluid arc across the room, landing on Asher’s outstretched palm.
The enchanter turned to Ninia. “It’s not much to work with, but we need to use this flame to set the wall beside us on fire.”
Ninia frowned. “But it’s tiny … last time I gathered the light of the sun. This is different.”
Asher shook his head. “It works on the same principle. Light is still light. All we need to do is magnify it.”
Across the room, Mira watched them. Asher and Ninia stood close, their voices low as the enchanter whispered instructions to the princess. Mira didn’t catch half of what passed between them, but what she did hear made little sense to her.
Watching Ninia’s flushed face, Mira felt a grudging respect for her. Despite her sheltered upbringing, the girl was tough.
Eventually, the princess and the enchanter ended their discussion. Asher then drew his right hand over the dancing flames that still hovered above his left palm. The flame expanded, deepening in color and staining the room vermillion.
