Page 136 of Trick
“A servant is coming. Don’t say a word to her,” I instructed. “You’re ill. You don’t know me. I’m simply being charitable to a stranger. Once you’ve rested, go home. Poet and I will get Nicu, but someone needs to be there when we return him.”
“Tumble will make a loud fuss if we leave without Nicu. Usually, Poet can calm the critter down, but Tumble might not go with me. And he’s right tough to snatch, must less keep ahold of when he’s upset.”
“Then let him be. He’s safe here, and we’ll bring him home later. The most crucial thing is for you to be waiting for Nicu.”
Momentarily, her distress gave way. Despite the unshed tears, Jinny’s pupils flickered with something like wry comprehension. “You’re saying an old woman is going to slow you down.”
“I’m saying I don’t wish to risk you getting injured.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“It does.”
“So it’s that kind of trouble you’re planning, is it? I knew you didn’t have red hair for nothing.” As she inspected my features, whatever stared back reinforced the set of her jaw and resurrected her complexion. “No ruler can lead unless they’re willing to. That’s what he sees in you. There’s fight in your soul, Briar of Autumn. I approve.”
I swallowed around the knot in my throat. “I’m honored.”
“You’d damn well better be. Now go get my boys. Both of them.”
The maid scampered in. I tossed her instructions to look after Jinny. “If anyone enters—if my Mother enters—let her know I found this woman in the garden. She’s here at my insistence and will recover with rest and drink. Allow her to leave once she’s fit to do so. Understand?”
“Yes, Your Highness,” the maid said, then set about pouring water and banking a fire.
“Rest now,” I whispered to Jinny, leaning closer to her. “Afterward, you must get back to the cottage with the wagon. Can you make it?”
Jinny’s chin rose. “Try and stop me.”
***
In the corridor, torches combusted, their flames writhing. I hastened down the hallway, my skirt thrashing around my limbs.
Nicu could be cold. He could be hungry. He could be hurt.
I quickened my pace, ignoring the blur of faces greeting me from various corners. At the bottom of a winding stairwell, the Court Physician’s door stood ajar. I spewed a lie to the man about needing a sleeping draught, trusting the shadows under my eyes were suitable proof of my troubles. The man’s fingers lagged through cupboards laden with vials and tinctures. Glasses clinked, the noise pinching my patience.
For Season’s sake, he moved slower than a sloth. I nearly shouted at him.
Armed with a tiny vessel of liquid, I left the room and headed for the dungeon, darting through passages and down a familiar stairway glazed in phlegm-colored slime. While stuffing the sleeping draught in my sleeve, I descended into the dank chill, undeterred by the waifish shadows, malnourished groans, scuttling roaches, and the rancid stench of vomit.
Below, torches illuminated a hulking man with mead breath, a grainy rind of facial skin, and a coarse beard nesting across his visage.
The guard set aside his poleax and rose from a bench. “Milady,” he blurted out.
Disregarding his improper form of address, I stepped around the corner from his post. My eyes scanned dozens of cells and bars that whittled into the darkness. My gaze stumbled across the silhouettes of filthy rags, skeletal limbs, and scabbed bodies. Manacles and chains dragged over the stones, the commotion scraping through the murk.
Someone hacked. Someone else mumbled repeatedly to themself.
Then my ears discerned the patter of small feet.
I swung toward the third cell, where a faeish boy waddled from the shadows and clutched the bars. Upon recognizing me, his hopeful face poked through the gap. His green eyes shone with desperation and confusion, those orbs begging me to help him—to save him.
Deeper into the cavity, blood stained the floor. One wall displayed mounted weapons and instruments forged for baiting and torture, from knives to spiked tongs, shears, harnesses, and lances. The courts lived and reveled while these atrocities occurred only several levels below the ground.
Bile rushed up my throat. I swallowed it back down.
Each cubicle allowed scarcely enough space for a person to extend their arms. The guard hadn’t squashed Nicu in with other prisoners, which otherwise seemed to be the case in majority of the cells, but how dare Spring behave so unmercifully to these people! Moreover, regal Autumn would never treat any child this way!
The numbness dissolved. My heart came back to life with a vengeance.