A shiver skates down the back of my neck.
“There,” he says, tone flat with impatience. “Can we get on with it now?”
“Yes, my lord,” Pax answers quickly. “This way.”
Pax hurries ahead into the tunnels.
Luceran doesn’t bother with any of the gear. No coat, no helmet, no boots. The mist of frost surrounding him thickens instead, wrapping him in an armor of ancient magic, the only protection he needs.
As we follow him, Pax gestures toward the left tunnel branching downward.
“This is Vein One,” he explains. “Our oldest and most stable tunnel. Ninety miners per shift, three shifts a day. Dawn, midday, dusk.” He taps a board nailed to the wall, itsrows of names reduced to smudges and scratches. “You will keep track of their rotations. If someone is injured or goes missing, the entire quota falls short.”
I nod quickly, trying to absorb the torrent of information. Pax and Luceran continue on, but I slow, edging cautiously closer to the tunnel entrance. The shaft plunges straight down, and the only way below appears to be a caged platform, suspended from a pulley system similar to the gear rack at the entrance.
I take another step. Another careful look downward.
I gasp.
It goes on forever. Rows upon rows of stairs spiral into the rock, lanterns strung along the walls, though nowhere near enough of them. The light thins, then fades entirely, swallowed by depths that plunge far beyond what any flame could hope to reach.
“Neve Devlin,” Luceran snaps, and like an idiot I jump at the sound, stumbling a step forward. A loose pebble skitters away and drops into the shaft, its fall booming like thunder as the echo ricochets off stone, striking every surface on its way down. I scramble for my balance, heart hammering, before I can follow it into the dark.
Luceran only frowns, disappointment etched into his features. He does not bother to reprimand me, as if I am not worth the effort.
I release a shaky breath. Pax grins and curls his finger for me to follow as they move on. He gestures to the ore carts rattling past on rusted tracks. “Every cart is weighed when it leaves the tunnels, and again before it is processed. Lord Frostwyn expects exact tallies. No rounding. No estimates. You will log each shipment by tunnel, by shift, and by weight.”
I force myself to refocus, murmuring the words under my breath as I commit them to memory. “Tunnel, shift, weight. Got it.”
Pax leads us into another tunnel, narrower and far more jagged.
“Vein Four,” he says. “Unstable.”
He lifts a hand toward the red markings smeared along the stone. “If you see red sigils, that means a collapse risk. No one is allowed past that point.”
The hairs on my arms lift. I glance back at Luceran, because surely this would concern him, but he only looks vaguely bored, as if life-or-death warnings are something he has long since grown immune to.
“This is…” I breathe, my chest tight. “A lot.” The next words slip out before I can stop them. “Who did this work before me?”
Luceran and Pax exchange a look I do not like. Luceran turns away, refusing to answer, which leaves Pax to fill the silence.
“His name was Holder,” Pax says, his voice dipping. “He passed away a few months ago. We have been making do since, so as you can imagine, we are leaving you with quite the mess.”
Luceran’s voice cuts through the tunnel behind us. “She will be fine.”
Pax gives me a warm smile, so warm it almost sparkles even in the dim blue lanternlight. “I am sure she will be.”
His kindness, even though it’s wrapped in irritating confidence, puts the smallest bit of warmth back into my chest. More than I’ve felt since stepping foot inside Castle Frostwyn.
“So Veins Two and Three. They’re active… safe?”
Pax nods. “Safe enough.”
It’s not a comforting response.
“That’s all you need to know for now,” Luceran says sharply. His fur cloak flashes as he turns, and somehow, despite the fact we’re in a cave, snowflakes drift from overhead. “We’re returning to the castle.”
And he walks off again, expecting me to follow like some obedient dog.
