“You let me believe a lie, Quickfellow. What else have you led me to believe?”
He frowned, feeling his frustration strain against the tethers of his self-control. “Do you think I came here to buy wine?” he demanded, leaning forward. “There is an army beyond the city. You’ve seen it. You’ve also seen the Everoot and you heard what was done with it by your forefathers.”
“Yes, but how do I know you aren’t hear to buy the Everoot, barter? Think for a moment, Quickfellow! Why else would you be here?”
He gripped her arm. “Because although I am the son of a barter,” he said in a low voice, “My birthright gives me access to another magic that is down here, in the tunnels. I do not know why that is. I don’t care. But the magic is real and it will stop this madness from continuing any further. It will stop the Rebellion. Think of all who will die if we don’t get the Crystal. Think of all we stand to lose if Tsyrke and his fellows win. Remember the Kiran Thall in Sol? Remember how they behaved? Think what will happen to the valley if they win!”
She frowned, obviously angry and disturbed by what he had told her. “Then the Crystal is real?”
“You said you could tell if a man was lying. I have told you the truth. I swear it.”
She was quiet for several moments. “I believe you. Maybe I’m the world’s greatest fool for trusting a Shae, but I pray that I’m not.” Ticastasy hiked up her skirt and tugged off the leather boot. A small key ring plopped into her hand. She gave him a wink.
“Quit flirting lass and unlock us!” Sturnin grumbled.
She gave the knight a smile. “I came here to free you, Sturnin. I just needed to know whether I should let Quickfellow out too.”
It took several tries until the key made a little snick in the lock and the manacles opened. Blood tingled in Thealos’ feet and he smiled with relief.
“Thank you,” he said, tipping her chin so that their eyes met. “We’ll see you safely through this, I promise you.”
She grabbed the chain between his wrists. “Here, hold still, Quickfellow. This won’t take…”
The door opened at the far end of the hall and the marching sound of boots thundered into the dungeon. Ticastasy’s eyes widened with shock as the clank of sword and armor rattled the stillness.
“In the shadows, lass,” Sturnin warned. The serving girl stole deeper into the cell, hiding herself in the darkness. Sturnin leaned forward, blocking sight of her. Thealos took another hunk of bread and quickly chewed it, watching to see who was going towards the kitchens and the stairwell leading out of the dungeon. The advance guard wore black armor fringed with gold. They carried long-handled torches before them, showing the rats slinking in the ceiling rafters. The man in the middle looked about seventy years old, his face hard-edged and angry. His hair was long and gray, spotted with streaks of ice. His gait was strong and sturdy, his walk quick. He stunk of Forbidden magic.
“Ballinaire,” Sturnin said in a near-whisper.
Thealos bristled as the soldiers passed, obviously on their way to meet with the commander of the Shoreland regiment. The clanking noises faded as they mounted the steps. The door leading to the kitchens slammed shut behind them.
“That should give us even more time,” Ticastasy said, slipping in front of Thealos once again. She swiped some of her dark hair behind her ear. “I knew he was coming – hoped to get down here without having to cross him. Ballinaire is here to speak with Tsyrke. You’ve met him, haven’t you?” Her eyes met his and then looked away.
“I know who he is now,” Thealos said, squeezing her hand. “And I know that you didn’t. I’m sorry.”
She bit her lip and then slid the key into the manacles on his wrists. “It gets pretty complicated after that, as you can imagine.”
Thealos nodded, feeling a surge of relief when the heavy iron fell onto his lap. He scooped up the chain and set it next to him on the straw. The feelings of relief surged within him. Without her, he would never have made it safely out. He owed her more than a tavern. He owed her his life.
Her eyes found his again.
“You wore that in Sol,” he said, nodding to the pendant around her neck. His touch grazed her skin. “You wore this as a promise, didn’t you?”
She sighed and nodded.
Thealos shook his head slowly and tugged the pendant, snapping the thin chain. He tossed it into the straw “You don’t belong to him, Stasy. Not him.”
She brushed her hair back again. “I don’t belong to you either.”
“Quit staring at each other like smitten fools and unlock me!” Sturnin hissed.
Thealos didn’t know why he did it. He couldn’t stop himself. Leaning forward, he kissed her.
It surprised them both.
“Thank you,” he said. “For saving my life.”
A shadow blocked the doorway of the cell and she flinched, shoving away from him in a panic.
Secrist Phollen stood there, gripping a dagger.
XXXII