“How have you evaded the soldiers scouring the woods for dissenters?” It didn’t say much for the troops if they’d allowed these two—and possibly others—to slip through their grasp.
A smile lifted one side of Harrold’s mouth; the other side permanently puckered by a ragged scar. “Isn’t hard if you know the land, the caves, and all the hidden passageways.”
Yarif nodded. “I’m glad you weren’t caught. I’ve worried so much for our people. Am still worrying. We need inside the castle. Is the old well entrance still clear?”
“Yes.”
“Will you escort us?”
Harrold bowed. “Whatever my prince needs.”
These men had been out in the wilds for who knew how long. Draylon wouldn’t correct them about Yarif’s new status.
Yarif followed the two men, Draylon and Vihaan falling in behind. They strode on a narrow path through the woods until they reached a hole in the ground covered by branches.
Tenus knelt, pushing branches out of the way. Harrold disappeared into a dilapidated hut, returning with a lit lantern. Tenus disappeared into the hole, then lifted a hand for the lantern.
One by one, Draylon, Vihaan, Yarif, Tenus, and Harrold climbed down a rickety ladder. The passageway veered into a tunnel instead of a well. Draylon sure hoped these men knew where they were going. The lantern barely illuminated the space.
The walls were damp, smelling of rotten leaves, the tunnel going on and on. Ahead, Yarif breathed hard. “Are you well?” Draylon asked.
“Fine. I just don’t like enclosed spaces.”
“You didn’t have to come.” In fact, Draylon would have greatly preferred for Yarif to remain somewhere safe. Yet Yarif had every right to be here, at Draylon’s side, where he belonged.
“Yes, I did,” Yarif replied. “I couldn’t let you do this alone.”
“This” encompassed so much. Regaining the kingdom. Avenging the dead. Retribution for trying to have Yarif killed…
Something scuttled in the darkness, likely a rat or other small vermin. Draylon’s mind wandered to the men posing as himself and Vihaan. Had they been arrested? Attacked? While Draylon didn’t expect a warm welcome from the emperor, Avestan’s reaction interested Draylon the most.
After what felt like days, the tunnel gave way to rough stone steps. They came out in a familiar area: the abandoned stables.
No one seemed to be around. Yarif darted out of the stable into which they’d emerged and into the next, then down into yet another passageway. This one, Draylon remembered.
They strode on level ground for a time, then up and up they climbed, the lantern barely giving light. Yarif rushed ahead, staring at a spot on the wall of what must be his rooms. “The way is clear.” He turned to the guides. “Thank you. We can go from here.”
“We stay with you,” Harrold insisted, lantern casting eerie shadows over his rugged face.
“I need you on the outside.” Yarif clasped the old man’s hand. “Please. Help any who come to you needing to escape. Once Renvalle is safe, I’ll send word.”
After a moment, Harrold nodded. “Until we meet again, my prince.” He and his son navigated back down the steps with the lantern while Yarif opened the familiar fireplace panel.
His rooms were empty. Had the furnishings been taken to the rooms Draylon hoped to share with Yarif or discarded?
Yarif ducked into the hidden passageway again, returning with a rapier and sheath, which he fastened around his waist. “This belonged to my mentor.”
Guilt hit Draylon in the gut. He’d promised and failed to return Yarif’s rapier and knives. Seemed Yarif hadn’t needed them after all.
A knock sounded on the door, which Yarif hurried to answer. Draylon pulled his sword.
May stepped inside, folding Yarif into her arms. “Your Majesty! You’re not dead!” She sobbed, holding on so tightly that Yarif must be in pain. “We were told you were murdered.”
“Thanks to Draylon, I’m not so easy to kill,” Yarif choked out from inside May’s exuberant hug. “How are the children?”
May retreated a few steps, wiping at her eyes with the backs of her hands. “I had Pol take them to Lady Exa.”
Now tears sprang to Yarif’s eyes. “Thank you.”
