“Draw them into the bathroom,” I told her in a whisper. “I’ll slip out the door.” While she weighed the consequences of such deceit, I grabbed my purse from the closet. It was the same one Father Garius gave me almost a year ago, the one with the false bottom. “If they catch me, I will not blame you, Clesta. I shall take full responsibility for my actions. And omit you from any guilt.”
She turned her back on me, walking over to Shiksa and putting out her hand. Quick as a cat, I opened my drawer and grabbed the spell book. A warm thrill of something slithered up my arm, but I quickly shoved the book into the secret compartment. It did not fit as easily as the Crown of Nine had, but I could hide it within the purse before Clesta turned around again.
“I cannot promise how long I can keep them here.”
I retracted my hand from the purse and offered a pleasant smile. “No need. I simply want to say goodbye to an old friend.”
“Prince Taelon,” she assumed with a knowing look in her eye.
“Er, no, he’s already left. But yes, one of our, um, mutual friends.”
She moved toward the bedroom doors and shooed me behind them. Composing herself and breathing deeply, she suddenly lunged for the doors and flung them open. “Help!” she cried. “It’s the princess!”
The guards burst into the room, flattening me against the wall with the door. They answered Clesta’s plea for help as aggressively and hastily as I hoped they would.
“In here!” she ordered, running toward the bathroom. As soon as I heard their pounding footsteps, I slipped into the hallway.
I had more guards posted on me than just the two or three who always stood at my door. But if I was able to get past the guards who kept the closest watch, I could usually sneak by the others. Especially if they did not yet know to look for me.
So that was exactly what I did. Clinging to corners and dark shadows, I methodically yet quickly worked my way toward the dungeons. It was easier than it should have been. But I knew many guards to be following my uncle’s orders around the kingdom and even the castle.
I had not known where the castle dungeons were for a long time. It wasn’t something my uncle or anyone else at Castle Extensia made public knowledge. They were especially keen to keep the information from me.
There were certain prison cells I had been allowed to visit. While Aret Grimsayer had been in residence, for instance, Tyrn had allowed me to visit him. But he had been kept in a civil court section usually reserved for local criminals in Sarasonet. The occasional rowdy town drunk. A cattle thief. A traveling con man.
It was the reason the Rebel Army was able to rescue him so easily. He had been arrested because my uncle had wanted to make an example of him, not because Tyrn thought he was truly treasonous.
But there were criminals within this castle’s walls that my uncle did especially hate. And it was those prison cells I was looking for now.
Over the last several months, and with Oliver’s help, we carefully narrowed our list of possibilities. And kept watch of the royal guard’s movements and functions. As well as the kitchens.
Everyone needed to eat. Even the worst of the worst prisoners.
Even if it was only stale bread.
That was where we’d caught our break, actually. What exactly did a royal kitchen do with leftovers? Some were meant for feeding the stables. And some were meant for the poorest of the poor thanks to the local Temple’s involvement in the process. And some, the worst of the leftovers, fed to prisoners.
And the worst of those leftovers fed the worst prisoners.
I moved as quickly and quietly as possible to a far recess of the castle. It was nearest to the river that ran around the front of the Keep. With the mountains in the back, Extensia only used a drawbridge in the front.
There, I found a door that opened to a stairwell that only moved downward. Sparse torches were lit and flickered in the dark but far enough apart that I could still blend into the shadows.
Surprisingly, no guards were positioned on the stairs as I moved down and down and down. My travel slippers echoed off the walls no matter how quietly I stepped. But I was in too big of a hurry to really take my time.
Instead, I hoped the time of morning and recent events last night would clear the way for me.
At the bottom of the winding staircase was an antechamber. I guessed there would be plenty of guards on the other side of the passageway, and I wasn’t sure what to do. I needed to get by them without causing a scene or alerting my personal guard, who would be combing the castle for me right now.
“What should I do?” I whispered to no one. I already missed Oliver. He would have come up with a plan by now. Or sacrificed himself in order to distract the guards.
A play of light flickered out of the corner of my eye, pulling my attention. Just like all the times before, I turned, expecting to find natural light. Or a torch. But there was neither.
It was like the flame of a candle without the candle. It danced in the dark shadows on the wall. This time, I stretched out my hand to touch it. A ghost? Maybe it would feel ice cold. Or perhaps otherworldly. But alas, my fingers went right through it. I sensed nothing other than the cool, hard stone of the stairwell.
The light did move, however. Bouncing around the passageway until it alighted on the corner. It seemed to beckon me.
I gave it a look. Honestly, did it expect me to simply waltz right past the guards? It couldn’t even tell me how many there were.
