Nash shrugged and headed toward the office. “Why not?”
They had barely finished arranging lanterns when Achan voiced, Found it.
A thrill ran up Cole’s arms. Where? he thought.
In the passageway, about two paces past the kitchen door on that same wall. There’s a latch on the inside, chest high for me. Hold on. Let me come to the other side.
“He’s found it.” Cole led Nash out of the office and into the passage.
Ah, Achan voiced. See if you can fiddle with that big knot in the wood. About the size of a coin and chest high. See it?
“He says there’s a knot in the wood,” Cole told Nash, scanning the grain. His gaze caught on a golden-brown knot, and he pressed it cautiously.
The knot sank into the wall with a soft click, and a hidden door swung inward.
“Well, mark me,” Nash said.
Cole exhaled a long breath and crouched to grab a lantern. “I’m going down.”
“I’ll go with you,” Nash said.
Cole hesitated. That would never do. “Actually, I need you to fetch the guard.”
“Whatever for?”
“In case I don’t come back.”
“You don’t know that these stairs even lead anywhere,” Nash countered. “Besides, you’ve got the king. Apparently.”
Cole gave him a dry smile. “The king doesn’t know his way around Tsaftown. If you come down with me and something happens to us both, there’ll be no one to rescue us.”
“Ah.” Nash tipped his head back, clearly reluctant. “How will I convince them to come?”
“Go to Lytton Hall,” Cole said. “Ask for Jol Quimby or Lovell Dunn. Tell them I’m in trouble and bring them here.”
Nash sighed. “All right. But it’s not my fault if they think I’m mad.”
“They won’t,” Cole said.
“Luck go with you,” Nash said.
Cole raised the lantern as he stepped into a square passage. Narrow stairs started down right away and creaked underfoot as he descended into darkness. The walls closed in, raw and cold, and the smell of damp earth thickened with each step.
At the bottom, he found himself in a storage room. Crates of wine were stacked along one wall, and shelves crammed with various weapons lined another.
Grab a sword, Achan voiced.
Good idea. Cole hadn’t brought his today. He lifted a few, testing their weight, and settled on a short sword with a leather-wrapped hilt that felt balanced in his hand. He threaded it into the ring on his rope belt, grateful Kurtz had insisted such a thing would come in handy.
Opposite the stairs, a gap in the timber frame led to a dirt tunnel. Cole ducked between the exposed studs, his boots scuffing over the frosty soil. Wooden beams and braces supported the rough shaft. Icicles clung to cracks in the ceiling and low-hanging joints like jagged teeth, glinting in the lantern’s light.
How you holding up? Achan bloodvoiced. About Mistel, I mean.
Cole’s jaw tightened as he trudged through the darkness. He saw no reason to think his replies and answered aloud. “I’d rather not talk about it.”
Achan’s tone softened. She means a lot to you, doesn’t she?
The silence stretched out. Cole’s throat grew tight, his mind a twist of dark possibilities of where Mistel might be this very moment. Finally, he said, “I’m afraid for her. But more than that…I love her.”
