North and Westley nodded in tandem. They came to the end of the hallway and North stopped abruptly, causing Westley to almost run into her. Her head moved back and forth and then she turned to him, trepidation written clearly all over her face.
“I don’t recognize this,” she whispered.
“There are windows up above. This is an outer wall,” he commented.
“Unless it’s a keep that has an inner courtyard and we’re in the dead centre,” Easta added.
“Not helpful, East,” North hissed.
“We can’t just stand here, we have to pick one and hope for the best,” Westley said, his heart rate picking up.
“You’re right.” North took in a deep breath. “Let’s go this way.”
She turned left and the other two followed. The path ended up turning once more, the floor transitioning from wood to a lush red carpet.
There was still no one around and Westley’s uneasiness grew.
“Ugh,” North complained, her shoes sloshing as the carpet became sopping wet. The farther they moved down the corridor, the more soaked the floor became until they stopped right outside two sizable iron-studded doors.
“I think we went the wrong way,” Easta murmured.
“No shit,” North snapped back.
It was hard for Westley to keep the smile off his face. He loved when his uptight elder sister dropped her airs and let her Fae nature come out. He wished she felt comfortable to do so more often, but at least she had Westley and Easta to feel safe around.
The always prim and proper future Queen of Idavoll morphed into a feisty Fae before his eyes.
“Where did all this water come from?” Westley muttered.
“It doesn’t matter, we have to turn around,” North scolded, already making her way back down the hall.
But Westley couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Before his sister could order him not to, he took hold of the handle and found it lacking a lock, pushing the heavy door open.
The hinges creaked as it opened to an expansive bedroom.
“Westley,” North hissed, but it was too late. He slipped inside the room, North’s frustrated sigh right behind him, her squelching footsteps loud as she and Easta followed.
The room was dark—thick velvet curtains blocked the light from the windows, cloaking the space in an eerie red hue. The wide canopy bed lay in the centre, two figures under the covers. President Hugo and his wife, Nina, lay at the heart, holding each other close.
The scent of death hung over them.
Westley leaned in, hoping to hear any signs of life, but there were no breaths or heartbeats. From the look of their bloated bodies, their sopping hair and clothes, they’d been drowned.
Westley didn’t know how, he only knew they had to get out of there. Quickly.
The room went hauntingly quiet. He hadn’t noticed the background noise when he entered, but the sudden absence of sound chilled his bones. The sound of running water from the attached bathing room had cut off. Westley, North, and Easta snapped their heads at the figure emerging from the dark room.
“Oh, this is too perfect,” a voice said in a low whisper.
Westley stepped in front of his sisters, ready to use the water around them to shield them. The figure moved towards them again, but he was cloaked in so much darkness they still couldn’t see him, even with their Fae eyesight.
“Did you kill them?” Westley asked.
“Isn’t this what you wanted, Fae Prince?” the voice spat. There was something familiar about the lilt of it. Slimy. Westley assessed the scene in front of them as understanding dawned.
It was a trap.
“Of course not,” Westley answered carefully, his mind racing.
