Tiernan makes an odd sound between a laugh and a despairing groan. I push aside the pressing guilt and terror weighing on my limbs and start writing.
Rubble is strewn around the entrance to the brig, and the air is thick with smoke. I cough and try not to inhale too deeply as we stand at the top of the dark, stony stairs that lead down to the levels below the castle. The groundskeepers, under the watch of the guards, are steadfastly trying to repair the gaping hole in the brick wall.
“Careful,” Tiernan mumbles as we turn sideways to walk down the stairs littered with more debris.
The rebels had apparently blown a hole in the wall adjacent to the stairs leading down to the prison cells. They’d ambushed the guards and managed to break several prisoners out before reinforcements from our forces flooded in and put an end to it.
I’m still in my ballgown, my diadem firmly on my head once more. I expect a host of guards at the entrance to the brig, but there are just two standing watch. I guess the others were dispatched to the outside where the attack had occurred.
“Your Highness,” the guards murmur, bowing to me as I stand before them with my chin raised.
A large, unsettling woman steps forward. One of her eyes is unseeing, but her stare has the intensity of two fully functioning eyes. She bows to me. “Sergeant Angharad at your service, Your Highness. What brings you here?”
I present a rolled paper with a wax seal to her, and she breaks the seal to read what’s within.
“There has been a mistake,” I tell her. “Lady Alys Pritchard and Miss Durvla Garrick are loyal staff in my service. There has been no treason committed. Only a misunderstanding. Release them and no further disciplinary action will be taken.”
My heart is racing as Sergeant Angharad reads the ordinance that I hurriedly scribbled. The paper is official royal letterhead, but the seal is not quite an official seal. Beside me, Tiernan stands resolute, his hand on the pommel of the sword against his hip.
Sergeant Angharad stares at Tiernan for a moment, and his own glare challenges her. I glance between the two of them, but neither of their faces gives away anything. The guard then steps toward the brig door and opens it. I lock my knees to keep from going limp with relief. “Right this way, Your Highness,” she says.
Her strides are long and purposeful, but I keep up with them despite the heels on my feet. The stench and the cries of despair are overwhelming, tugging on my heart and turning my stomach, but I trod on as though unbothered.
This rescue mission is rather easy so far. It’s surprising given that Durvla was arrested for hiding her brother, a child who was deemed Undesirable. Worthless. Dispensable. My stomach roils.
We walk past a cell with a tall fellow standing with his forehead pressed against the cell closure. His knuckles are white from the grip he has on the bars. He suddenly pushes off the bars and stands upright as he sees me, but I keep walking. Next to him is Alys. She’s sitting on the floor, appearing otherwise undisturbed. When she sees me, a smile lights up her face.
“Princess,” she says, getting to her feet. “I knew you’d come through for us.”
I keep my features stony, not wanting to give away my utter relief and happiness. Not in front of Sergeant Angharad. “Release her,” I say.
The guard nods and yanks a set of iron keys off her belt, opening the gate. As Alys steps out, she curtsies to me and smiles. I do a quick sweep of her figure—she doesn’t seem too physically hurt.
We walk a few more cells down and find Durvla sitting on the ground, her arms looped tightly around her legs, her face buried in her knees. “Durvla,” I call, but she doesn’t move. Gods, I was an idiot for never realizing that she’s deaf.
Tiernan draws his sword, and for a horrifying moment I fear he’d do something outrageous, but he simply raps the sword against the bars a couple of times. The clanging echoes loudly through the brig, and Durvla’s head flies up. Her stare is unfocused for a moment, but she finally blinks at us. Her face is bruised and so wrought with heartbreak.
“Open the cell,” I tell the guard.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Angharad opens the cell, and I step in, crouching in front of Durvla. She squints at me as though I’m unrecognizable. “Shall we get out of here?” I ask.
Her confusion is not lost on me, but I smile to assure her that this isn’t a trick.
“The Feast is over. I believe we had a deal?” I try again.
That does the trick, but as she stands, she’s so unstable that she has to clutch the bars. It’s as if she’s forgotten how to walk. I cast an accusatory glance at Sergeant Angharad. “What did you all do to her?”
“Nothing, Your Highness. Just an interrogation.”
It doesn’t look likenothing. I sigh and put an arm around Durvla. Alys joins me on the other side, and together we walk her out of the cell.
“You can let go, Princess,” says Tiernan. “I’ll hold her up.”
I nod and let go, Tiernan taking my place.
“Durvla?” a hoarse voice calls. It’s the man in the cell beside Alys’s. Durvla doesn’t react to his call, of course. I’m suddenly impressed that she managed to conceal her deafness these past weeks.
