Oh no.
Rage, like a burning hot fire, roared to life in me. I was going to kill this King Harrow and hang his head on a spike in the town square!
“Let’s go,” I said confidently. I could endure a few minutes of walking in darkness for justice for my mate.
I kept Valkaryn at my hip, feeling the sword hum faintly under my palm as if steadying my own nerves.
It wasn’t a few minutes. It was thirty! And the tunnel smelled of mildew and damp rotting leaves. Godric had a small oil lamp in his pack, which was a merciful comfort, but it cast creepy shadows on the walls and floor of the tunnel as we walked. At one point, we stepped over a huge tree root that part of the tunnel had caved in from. When we finally reached a set of steps at the end, I sighed in relief.
The lamp’s light trembled across carved stone, making each step feel like a step through history. Small scuffs had been left in the mortar, reminders of people who had passed this way long before us.
“I pray it’s not light out yet. We should be okay if it is, but be ready for anything,” Godric announced.
I pulled Valkaryn and stepped back as Godric walked slowly and quietly up the stairs. When he went to push the trap door upward, it barely moved. He peered at me with alarm.
“Has it been sealed shut?” I whispered.
‘Or there is just something over it,’Val told me.‘It’s been out of use for a decade. Long forgotten.’
“Maybe a heavy piece of furniture is over it?” I offered.
He nodded and took a few steps downward, getting a running start before he launched up the steps and crashed into the door. It popped with a groan, and then there was a crashing noise as it broke free.
When the trap gave, Godric quickly shut the door and motioned that I turn off the lamp. We let the darkness settle for a heartbeat before drawing breath.
My heart was in my throat, sword pulled and ready for anything.
Kaelric chose the worst time to check on me:‘Checking in. All good?’
‘Yep, doing great. Just in the tunnel,’I said quickly, so he wouldn’t send the troops after me. I strained for any noise up top that the crashing sound had drawn someone to us, but heard nothing.
‘Let me know when you are safe in the city and undetected,’Kaelric told me.
“I’m going up first,” Godric whispered. “If I shout, you run back and go to Kaelric.”
“Okay.”
I wouldn’t do that. I’d rush out and fight with him.
He creaked the door open, and we were met with pale moonlight. Once he was able to get the trap door fully open, he leaped out, and I waited, Val drawn and ready to fight.
After an agonizing minute, Godric’s head peered out of the opening. “It’s safe,” he said.
Relief rushed through me as I climbed out, taking Godric’s offered hand. When I popped out to the surface, I spun around to see that we were in an open-air market. The sun was just rising, casting a honey-gold light over rows of canvas tents and awnings. Godric had knocked over a heavy food cart that had been resting above the trap door. Garlic bulbs were spilled all over a little rug that had been covering the entrance. I bent down and helped him gather the bulbs, placing them back into their buckets. Once we had righted the cart and smoothed the rug back into place, we slipped out of the small stall we’d been in.
I peered up to see that we were inside a massive tent. It was patched and brown, but beyond it the market stretched in a riot of colors: crimson, indigo, emerald, and saffron cloth strung between stalls like bright ribbons. Piles of figs, copper pots, and bolts of fabric gleamed in the growing light.
At the center of the square loomed a statue, as tall as the surrounding tent. It was carved in the rough likeness of who I assumed was the imposter King Harrow himself. His stone face stared down in cold triumph, his arm raised as if blessing the trade. At the base, coins, flowers, and scraps of food had been piled into little mounds, a strange shrine of offerings that made my skin crawl.
I peered at Godric to see his fists clenched as he glared at the statue. “He thinks he’s a god. Wolfkin have no use of coin. He’s acting more like an Elite.”
From where we stood at the tent’s edge, the city spread out beyond the market. Narrow stone streets twisted between crooked buildings, their shutters painted in peeling hues. Towers with jagged spires cut the sky, and in the distance, the shadow of the palace loomed, blotting the dawn like a predator crouched over its prey.
I was venturing to guess that Lunaria was nothing like its former self. Godric’s breathing came in and out in short bursts as he clearly tried to contain his rage.
“We should not be seen in here before the market opens,” I told him softly, which seemed to snap him from his anger.
He nodded and bent down, scooping up a handful of coins from the base of the statue. He looked at one of them and shook his head.
