Spinning toward me, Lore quickly secured my blade in its sheath before lifting and tossing me upward. I grabbed onto the edge of the hole and scrambled my boots to find purchase.
Farris soared past me, landing squarely on the throne room floor. He snapped and snarled, latching onto my sleeve and tugging, his claws digging into the soft soil as he leaned backward.
I slammed first the toe of my right boot and then the left into the rocky dirt and climbed, finally smacking onto my abdomen in an ungainly heap on the throne room floor.
Lore quickly joined me, somehow finding his way up from the hole with the grace that always escaped me. Above me, he extended his hand. When I took it, he lifted me to my feet, his arm going around my waist to hold me close until I found my footing.
We backed away, Farris beside us, snapping and growling.
With a thunderous snarl, the hole collapsed inward. A plume of dirt shot up from where the opening had been, and a magic rushed across us in violent waves.
The hole sealed over, and the surface smoothed as if it had never been there. Tiles hissed around us, and we rushed to the dais, climbing the stairs and turning to watch as the marble floor slithered back into place, the floor weaving itself back together.
Prager’s shrieks cut off, and silence descended inside the throne room.
“She’s trapped?” I panted.
Lore grunted. “If so, I doubt it’ll hold her for long.”
“Do you think anyone will remember that Erisandra told us to look below the throne room?” I shook my head. “I bet the curse will wipe that from their minds like everything else.”
“Weremember.” His gaze remained on the place where his mother had died, and sorrow cratered his face.
I held him, wishing I could take away some of his pain. But smoothing it out took time and plenty of mourning.
His wards fell as he released them from around the room.
57
Reyla
The heavy doors to the throne room burst open. Lord Briscalar rushed inside, the lace on his wrists and collar fluttering and his polished shoes thumping on the carpeted aisle. Guards flanked him, their blades drawn and their faces grim as they scanned the area for threats.
Farris bounded over to the lord and danced around him, his tail spiraling and his happy yips echoing in the high ceiling room.
“Yes, yes, what a nice little nyxin.” The lord paused to gently stroke Farris’s head before continuing toward us with my pet scampering at his side.
“Your Highnesses,” he said, his gaze darting between us. “We heard a tremendous roar and shrieking and feared for your lives. What in the all the fates happened?”
“The castle isn’t without its mysteries,” Lore drawled, exhaustion tightening his voice.
As his gaze took us in, Briscalar’s mouth pursed. “Whatever have you two been doing?” He plucked at a tear in my leather tunic and tutted about the dirt that must cover my hair and face before turning to give Lore the same thorough perusal.
“Oh, we were rolling around in the gardens,” I said.
Lore's lips twitched upward, and his arm tightened around the back of my waist.
“I beg forgiveness for entering the throne room despite your specific instructions, my king. My queen,” Briscalar said, his face darkening. “We thought… Well, it’s been three days, and we feared?—”
“Three days?” I barked. How was that possible?
Briscalar’s eyes widened. “Well, yes,” he said, swallowing hard.
Lore and I nearly collapsed against each other. Only two weeks and three days left.
Briscalar gestured toward the doorway. “Shall I escort you to your suite? I believe you two should…” He looked us over again and sighed.
“Yes, let's go to our rooms, love.” Lore kissed my temple. “You really are a dirty one, aren't you?” he whispered for my ears alone. “Perhaps I should clean you up.”
