“It’s horrible, isn’t it?” she finished for him, her tone cooler now.
His grip tightened briefly at her waist before he let go. “It is.”
They continued on in silence once more until reaching the entrance to the labyrinth of tunnels. Rolfe’s brow furrowed as his gaze darted uneasily between the dark, winding paths. “Which of these leads to the infirmary? Theydohave an infirmary, don’t they?”
“They do,” Elara replied, watching as the strain in his posture gradually eased. She inclined her head toward the rightmost tunnel. “It’s down there.”
Rolfe exhaled, a flicker of relief crossing his face as he adjusted his grip and guided her on. His arm stayed steady beneath hers while the torchlight dimmed behind them, swallowed by the dark ahead.
“How much further?”Rolfe’s voice wavered, his concern clear as Elara leaned harder against him. She could feel his gaze flick to her every few seconds, his worry palpable, just as she had hoped.
“Do you need to rest?” he offered, his kindness almost unbearable.
She winced dramatically, casting him a tired look. “I think I might.”
He nodded without hesitation, and gently helped her settle against the tunnel wall—right next to the large, jagged rock she’d noted on her first trip through this tunnel.
Elara sank to her knees with a slight groan, feigning a weakness that brought Rolfe to her side at once.
“I don’t think I can manage the rest of the way.” Her fingers brushed against the rock beside her, wrapping around it carefully, feeling the weight of it in her palm. “Do you think you could fetch someone to help me?”
Rolfe hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek as his gaze shifted from her to the dark tunnel ahead. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea to leave you alone. Maybe… if you don’t mind, I could carry you?—”
Elara didn’t let him finish. She swung her arm in one swift motion, the rock cracking against the back of his head. Sharp. Cruel. He never saw it coming.
His body jolted, shock flashing across his face before his knees buckled. He crumpled at her feet, unconscious before he hit the stone.
Elara squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the tears that surged before she could stop them.
Curse it all.
“I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she carefully lowered him onto his back. Her eyes darted to the spot where she’d hit him, her heart stalling at the sight of blood—just a small amount, enough to stain the skin beneath his hair. Her hands shook as she searched for a pulse. There it was—steady. He wasn’t dead, just unconscious. Relief flooded her as she slumped back against the wall.
Tears welled in her eyes again, blurring everything, but she swiped them away with the back of her hand—rough, fast—then pinched her arm hard, the pain cutting through the swirl of emotions.
Get up. Move.
Elara pushed herself up on unsteady legs, her whole body trembling.
She had to decide, and fast.Find Godfrey and drag the truth out of him, or dig deeper into the stones?There was something about them—she’d felt it the moment she first saw them, a pull she couldn’t shake. And her dreams had only confirmed it. They meant something.
Something important.
Her gaze flicked between the path behind her and the shadowed corridor where she knew the stones were kept. She swallowed hard, her pulse quickening. Maybe, she could manage both.
The stones first.Then Godfrey.
Elara clutched her gown and sprinted down the dim corridor, fabric bunched in her fists. Torches flickered along the walls,their shadows lurching and warping the space around her. At the end of the hall, a heavy door stood ajar, a sliver of light spilling through like a beacon. She shoved it open, breath ragged, chest heaving?—
And stopped dead.
Every singleSidhe stood at attention. Silent. Watchful. Their faces pale in the low light.
They hovered at the bars of their cells, their otherworldly eyes fixed on her, tracking her every move with an intensity that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.
Their expressions were unreadable, faces as smooth as marble, yet there was something beneath it—an understanding, as if they knew—knewexactlywhat had transpired between her and Rolfe. Elara’s throat tightened, her mouth suddenly dry as her eyes darted from one figure to the next. Their features too beautiful to belong to this wretched place.
No one spoke. No one moved.
