All the air left her lungs. She’d seen more than enough death; she couldn’t stomach any more. Her head jerked side to side, whispering, “No.” The word was so quiet she barely heard it herself.
Damien certainly hadn’t. He disappeared, his form swallowed by the shadows as if the darkness itself had claimed him. She had no time to wonder what was happening before the air seemed to shudder, then came a flash of darkness . . . followed by three distinct thumps.
Even though she knew she would regret it, she peeked around the corner. Damien stood with his hands in his pockets, staring at the three bodies sprawled face down, lined up like discarded dolls. Her stomach twisted.
They were dead because she wanted to escape, and she held as much responsibility for their death as Damien—hell, she may as well have murdered them herself.
“They’re just knocked out,” Damien drawled, now rifling through the guards and pocketing their knives. “Can’t have you thinking I’m still the monster in your story.”
That particular opinion was still being determined, but she was relieved, nonetheless; his consideration was . . . touching. Drawing a steadying breath, she comforted herself further with the knowledge that she wasn’t running from one heartless murderer to another. “The secret passage,” she said, pointing down the hall.
Without wasting any more time, they raced the rest of the way, only stopping once they were at the tapestry of the large oak with a child swinging on one of its branches.
Luna dropped to her knees, searching the carpet for the trapdoor she’d found earlier—before Clyde caught her and dragged her back to the ball.
Her palms were sweaty, and her heartbeat thundered loudly in her chest.Where the hell was the opening?More guards would be coming soon. Sure, Damien could hold them off—but for how long? Eventually, they would overwhelm him, right? There had to be a limit to his strength, and she didn’t want to find out what that limit was.
She cursed the carpet for disguising the trapdoor entrance so well. She couldn’t get caught, not this time; it wasn’t just her fate at risk.
The panic surging through her only made her search clumsy, so she forced herself to draw in a calming breath.It’s here.She’d found it underneath this tapestry before and would find it again . . .
A thought struck her.What if Clyde had tampered with the opening?
“Knife,” she demanded with her palm open.
Without hesitation, Damien took one of the many knives from his belt and handed it over.
She snatched the blade and drove it into the carpet, ripping it to shreds.There! The opening.
Clyde must have had someone sew it down.
She dropped the knife and practically tore the remaining carpet off the floor, revealing the trapdoor. Her fingers trembled as she fumbled with the latch, unable to open it.
Frustration burned in her throat, a scream threatening to escape—until Damien reached over, his magic moving through the air. In a single, effortless motion, his shadows snapped the latch into two and swung the door open.
A narrow dark hole yawned beneath them; an iron rung ladder bolted to its walls, rusted with age.
Damien leapt down first, throwing a glance up at her. “Wait here,” he murmured.
Luna paused, anticipation making her heart beat even more wildly than before. She quickly scanned the hallway—no guards in sight. Good.
A second later, his voice rose from the darkness, reassuring her, “It’s safe. Come on down.”
With a nod, she gathered her dirtied skirts in one hand and cautiously followed. As she gripped the iron ladder, its cold rungs bit into her hands and the excess fabric of her skirts made descending awkward. Darkness swallowed her with each step, the only light spilling from the trapdoor above.
When her feet touched the ground, Damien made a motion with his hand and the trapdoor slammed closed, sealing them in complete darkness.
She hadn’t even seen him summon his shadows to do it, but to be fair, she could barely see her own hand in front of her face.
The last tunnel she’d been in had skylights; this one had none.
Damien’s hand slid into hers. His grip was firm, steady, and he gave a small reassuring squeeze before asking, “Any idea where this goes?”
She searched her memory for the blueprints she’d studied in the prince’s art room, trying to recall where the passage led. If only she’d stuffed them in her dress instead of ruining them. “It leads out of the building, but I don’t rememberwhere exactly.”
Hesitantly, Luna took a step forward, using the wall to guide her. The darkness was so absolute it seemed to press in around her like a tomb.
She’d only taken one or two steps when Damien scooped her into his arms. Holding her against his chest, her arms instinctively hooked around his neck. He moved soundlessly, as if he were one with the shadows, keeping a brisk, steady pace.
