“On the shore. Go with Arman.”
The shore? Zanna’s gaze snapped to the tunnel’s abyss. This ran beneath the ocean? A shiver crawled up her spine. She stepped over the threshold onto gravel. “How will you?—?”
Behind her, the door slammed shut. The bracket slid into place.
She had meant to ask how he would reach the shore before her. Why not come with her?
Because he had to close the door from inside. He’d said as much.
She exhaled. How did Prince Oren pick Mârad recruits, anyway? First Kurtz Chazir and the minstrel boy, now this enigma.
Holding the torch high, she moved forward, boots crunching over gravel. The slick stone walls glistened with condensation in the flickering light. The frigid air carried the tang of salt.
“I shouldn’t be here,” she muttered, breath misting.
Yet she couldn’t go back. He had locked her out of the prison.
The only option was forward.
So she walked into the abyss, trusting that something important lay ahead.
Zanna could hardly wait to tell Kurtz about the tunnel off Ice Island.
It was nearly closing time when she stepped inside the Black Boar. The tavern buzzed with the usual mix of clinking mugs and raucous laughter, but she barely noticed. Her gaze swept the room until she spotted Kurtz, leaning against the bar, whispering to a giggling barmaid.
Fiora Lingel.
Unbelievable.
Zanna strode up, boots thudding against the floorboards. “Where’s Mistel?”
Kurtz straightened, his smile fading. “Storage room with Cole.”
“You left them alone? You’re supposed to be their chaperone.”
“They’re fine.” He waved her off. “The place is practically empty.”
“But who’ll guard her from him? I hope you haven’t taught him your ways.”
Kurtz sighed. “Beg pardon, Miss Lingel.” He motioned for Zanna to follow. “Let’s check on them, eh?”
She followed him down the hall to the storage room where he gently cracked the door open. Mistel sat at the table, coins piled before her. Cole held her hand while she spoke, too softly for Zanna to hear.
She reached to push the door wider, but Kurtz shut it with a soft click and leaned against the frame. “Let them talk,” he said. “Tonight’s show went well, but Ice Island’s next, and Cole’s worried.”
“Verdot finally picked a date?”
“Three days from now.”
Zanna couldn’t hold back. “I found a tunnel tonight. Runs underground from Ice Island to a cave near Cliffwatch.”
Kurtz barely blinked. “Not surprising. Moving goods over snow’s no easy task.”
“This isn’t for goods. There’s no way into the fortress from the outside. Someone has to let you in. And on the other end, it’s just a cave hidden in scrub brush with little more than a game trail for an entrance. No gate. No guards. It’s been used, but not often. And there are runes just inside the cave—same as those on Ice Island’s gates.”
Kurtz’s deep-brown eyes locked on hers. “That’s how they’re moving prisoners. How’d you find it?”
“That’s the weirdest part.” Zanna told him about the mysterious man with the Mârad passcode.
