Within a few more minutes, she and Benedict had found Nick Bottom. He didn’t take to the rescue with as much aplomb as Demetrius and spent the whole time bemoaning his fate, his long donkey ears drooped disconsolately down his back. They left him guarded by the rescued swordmaiden to make sure he didn’t do anything more than moan.
They also found Master Librarian Domitius, a pixie, several goblins, and a high fae from another court. Benedict soon took charge of the master key to continue unlocking shackles while Ariadne joined her fellow swordmaiden and Demetrius in guarding those who had already been rescued to ensure they waited until everyone could leave together. Domitius, in particular, threatened to simply leave rather than waiting.
Each time they rescued someone, either Benedict or Beatrice distributed a wild fae primrose flower, though Beatrice was careful not to touch any of the others.
When they reached the last cell at the farthest end of the dungeon passageway, Beatrice halted in the doorway, staring at the figure imprisoned there.
Lord Chauvlyn sprawled almost bonelessly at the back of his cell, his wrists and ankles shackled like the others. His hair straggled into his eyes while his clothes were rumpled.
As Benedict halted beside her, Lord Chauvlyn dragged his head up. He gave a huff that might have been a laugh, though it lacked any warmth or mirth. “I see you found the Wild Fae Primrose.”
“I did.” Benedict crossed his arms and held the fae lord’s gaze. “It appears you were correct that your welcome was not as warm as mine.”
There was that mirthless huff again. “A year in the hands of the enemy was not enough compensation for my failures.”
Beatrice’s heart gave a little twist. She shouldn’t feel sympathy for this fae who had captured humans, transportedthem to torture and death, and heartlessly pursued her sister. He deserved everything he had suffered.
And yet he was a pathetic figure, slouched in a dungeon hidden beneath his own manor house.
She stepped forward. “We are here to rescue you.”
Lord Chauvlyn waved his hand with a shake of his head. “Leave me here. I know you aren’t truly here to rescue the likes of me.”
Perhaps they weren’t. But they couldn’t abandon him here either.
At the prompting of that strange, twisting pity filling her chest, Beatrice knelt next to him, pulled the glamour necklace from under her dress, and held out one of the last primroses. “We won’t leave you here.”
It didn’t matter if Lord Chauvlyn saw her true face. He already knew Brigid was the Primrose, after all. But she sensed he would need to see the truth of her face to hear the truth in her words.
Lord Chauvlyn barely glanced at her, his gaze fixing instead on the flower she offered to him. “I never thought I’d see a primrose offered to me. You shouldn’t. I don’t deserve it.”
“No, you don’t. But we’re rescuing you anyway.” Beatrice pressed the flower into his hand.
Benedict strode forward, the master key in hand. “Besides, we’re going to destroy the door to this dungeon, and hopefully the whole dungeon while we’re at it. You won’t want to still be here when we do.”
Lord Chauvlyn heaved a sigh and didn’t protest or resist when Benedict freed his ankles, then his wrists. Once he was free, he used the wall to climb to his feet. Something about his hunched stance and shuffling steps seemed to indicate pain, even if his expression didn’t betray so much as a wince. Nor did he seem like he wished for any help.
Standing, Beatrice replaced her glamour and stuffed the necklace under her shirt again. Once cloaked in the suffocating glamour, she turned and found that Benedict had waited for her, a hand extended to her.
He gave her a lopsided smile edged with traces of the darkness of this place, his hand dropping back to his side. “Ready to leave?”
“So ready.” She joined Benedict and took his hand, telling herself that she didn’t find reassurance in his strong grip.
Later today they’d break the fated mate bond and sever their connection forever. But for now, they were allies and partners, and she would savor each moment while it lasted.
Chapter Seventeen
Drawing his sword, Benedict waited just behind Ariadne and the other swordmaiden, ready to leap through the doorway.
With so many rescued prisoners in tow, there was no point in trying to leave subtly. But now they’d have the numbers to overwhelm the guards quickly. If they took out the guards at this door and the one above without making much noise, perhaps they could still sneak out past the rest without more fighting.
Beatrice, in her squirrel goblin woman glamour, stood near the back of the group, staying well away from the others to avoid an accidental brush or bump revealing the truth.
If the guards reported the jailbreak to Claudius andifhe told King Oberon andifKing Oberon chose to make a stink about it, then King Theseus would be able to claim that this was a Primrose mission and not something officially sanctioned by the king and queen.
What Lord Chauvlyn would report to the fae he served was anyone’s guess. But considering he had yet to tell anyone the true identity of the Wild Fae Primrose, he likely would keep his own counsel, at least for the time being.
Several of the other rescued prisoners—like Domitius—had complained about Lord Chauvlyn’s inclusion in the prison break. But they’d quickly been silenced by reminding them that the longer they stood there protesting, the longer it would take to get out of there.
