Page 85 of Heart of Night
Ayna
We follow Kaira to the right—the opposite direction we’d come from when we fled the palace—and it takes about fifty steps for us to make it to a hidden room where half of Julj lays on one side of the rough, narrow space while the other half is dripping off the walls across the room.
I swallow.
“Herinor was thorough.” Myron bends down to pick two knives and a sword from Julj’s belt, which has magically remained intact. He wipes them down on his pants and hands me the longer of the two knives while he offers the smaller one to Kaira, who shakes her head, pointing at the weapons belt on her hips.
“Herinor brought me this from the other guard.” I can’t tell if there is some fuzzy warmth weaving into her voice at the memory of the male handing her the weapons of a freshly killed soldier or if it’s just my imagination.
From behind her, Clio reaches over Kaira’s shoulder, smoothing the collar of her uniform into place where it hangs sideways off her shoulder. “I’d fix this if I were you, or Herinor will disembowel any other male who lays eyes on you,” she notes with a smirk that doesn’t fit the horror on Kaira’s face as she realizes the front of her uniform is still unbuttoned, exposing creamy skin and the swell of her breasts hidden under a wide band of fabric. “The hair, too.” Clio gestures at the disheveled braid, studying Kaira redoing her buttons with surprising clumsiness.
Something about the way she just used her body to distract a guard while Herinor disposed of the first one makes me believe her horror isn’t from embarrassment for her nakedness but from the thought of Herinor killing on her behalf.
“You’re thinking too much,” she narrates in my head, and perhaps she’s right. We have other matters at hand.
“Don’t read my thoughts,” I complain. Even when it’s a tool to help us navigate our break-in, her mind reading is becoming annoying.
“I promise I’ll learn how to block you out once we get out of here alive.” She shoots me a quick glance before she gestures at Myron. “You’ll find your way to the right cells once we’re in the dungeon?”
Myron’s expression changes to outright offended. “How about you focus on your task, I focus on mine, and we all stay alive?” It’s not a suggestion, and we all sense that power of his rising in his blood. He’s as terrifying as he was that first day at the Crow Palace, but instead of cringing from him, I’m proud to call him mine. He might be a menace, but he’s my menace.
Clio steps into the space between them, ignoring the splatter of blood at her feet like the warrior she is, and raises a finger at Myron. “You, keep your temper under control, or you’ll be the reason we’re detected, and you”—she wheels on Kaira, brows raised and eyes stern in a way I’ve never seen her, but it works like almost any look works on Clio—“lead the way before the new guards show up and we all need to do more killing than we care for. I’ve got a mate to free, and the Crow King has some friends to save, and I’d really like to do so before breakfast.”
“I’d hate to miss breakfast,” I agree, trying to ignore the nausea rising in my stomach at the thought of food in combination with the bloodbath Herinor created in this chamber.
Myron’s lips twitch, eyes narrowing on the female then flicking to me. “Breakfast sounds like something all of us could use.”
A minute later, Kaira is guiding us through the narrow corridors leading away from the gate toward the lower levels of the palace. I didn’t know just how many hidden passageways existed in this palace, and at every new turn, I’m surprised they are abandoned.
“No one ever comes this way,” Kaira whispers as she stops at a corner, glancing left and right just in case the routine of spatial abandonment has changed while we were gone. “Herinor found me this passage and opened it.”
Because he can help anyone but me. Or because he’d do anything for her—the state we found Julj in suggests it’s the latter.
“Let’s hope that hasn’t changed.” Clio grabs her sword harder, eyes sparkling as she turns left as if she’s walked these hallways hundreds of times.
When Kaira doesn’t object, I know she’s chosen the right direction. “Not far now,” the Flame huffs, her breath stirring the dust on the walls, and for a moment, I marvel at the shimmering orange particles tinted by firelight intruding in the space through small cracks and tiny holes in the walls. My eyes work just fine in the near darkness, and I’ve never been more grateful for how the Gods turned my fate.
Our feet are near soundless on the packed dirt floor, leaving our hearing undisturbed to pay attention to the light ruffles of guards’ boots when they shift their posture along the hallway running parallel to ours. Every other turn, voices carry through the walls, echoing along the stone and precious metal the space out there is made of, and every time, my heart nearly stops as I listen for a familiar voice or a caw, I’m no longer sure, but it’s never Erina or Ephegos, or even Katrijanov talking on their way through the palace. Somehow, their absence makes me more anxious than their presence would have. At least, then I’d know where they are.
All the way, Myron’s fingers linger on the small of my back as he walks in silence beside me, gaze ahead and magic at his fingertips. The crackling sensation of his power wraps around us as he tries to form a shield that will take the brunt of any surprise attack should we run into guards after all, but it isn’t more than a second skin. It won’t hold off anything magical or something sharp like a blade. His powers are recovering slowly, and hopes are that, by the time we make it to the dungeon, he’ll be able to produce something stronger than this. As if in response, his magic crackles along my skin, intensifying as it weaves another layer, and another.
“There—” Clio’s voice is so low only our superior senses can pick it out of the twilight of the stairwell she’s diving into, braid swishing behind her like a streak of fire.
The entrance to the dungeon. How do I know? The door at the bottom of the stairs opens, and Herinor steps aside, inclining his head at the princess before looking Kaira over. His gaze skips over me as he nods at Myron. “Silas and Astorian are in their cells.”
He doesn’t need to mention what that means for Royad.
“How long?” Myron’s tone is dry, emotionless, an assessing king readying for a decision neither of us wants to make.
“The guards picked him up two hours ago. I overheard them from the side corridor. They mocked him it was going to be his last time in the torture chamber.” Herinor’s words hit right in the chest, and I grab for Myron’s hand in silent support.
“We’d better hurry.” It’s all he says as he takes the lead into the narrow space between the iron bars framing empty cells.
This is a different part of the dungeon than where Erina brought me to see Myron. Abandoned and reeking not even half as much as the active regions of this Guardiansforsaken place.
“Change of plans,” Myron says with that lethal calm informing me he’s gone into fighting mode. “We free Silas and Astorian first. Clio and Ayna make sure they get out alive. Kaira knows the way out and will guide you.”
That leaves Myron and Herinor to retrieve Royad.