I knew before I was moving that this time was different. Usually, the thread of my power immediately began slipping from my grasp. Now, I held it tighter than ever before.
Launching myself into motion, I opened the door. This was an antechamber that allowed for the dungeon itself to be guarded without the guards needing to be posted down with the prisoners. Across the room, the door I needed looked like steel, heavy and secure. The guards were sitting down, leaning against the wall next to the door, a bottle of wine on the floor between them. Three other empty bottles were lying next to them.
My brother had done everything he could to make this easier.
The keys hung from the guard’s belt, and I crouched in front of him. It took me several seconds to unhitch them from his belt, but then I was standing, hands shaking as I shoved one of the keys into the door.
Time had begun to slip once more. As tightly as I grasped the thread, it was sliding from me.
Wrong key.
My hands shook harder. The thread slipped even more. My eyes burned. This was not how it ended.
The next key went all the way in. The lock clicked, the door opening to dark steps. Shoving the keys into the pocket of my cloak, I darted through the door, closing it behind me.
My eyes were still adjusting to the dim light, but I only had moments to get as far as I could from the door. My hand found the smooth wall of the dungeon, and I used it to steady myself, wincing as my palm touched moss and mold. My lungs ached, my mouth was bone-dry, but I picked up my pace, stretching my power until black spots appeared in the edges of my vision.
I dropped the thread and time resumed. A surge of victory flooded through me. I’d made it this far. Ahead, a torch cast an orange glow on the stone wall. I wiggled the torch free and took it with me.
The stairs felt never-ending. The scent of rusty metal and human waste slid up my nostrils before I heard the groans. Dread rose, quickening my pulse and making my head swim. I forced myself to take several deep breaths, but by the time I reached the bottom of the stairs, I was trembling. The stench was sickening, but it was the cold that made me shudder.
I pulled my cloak up over my head, just in case I found Lina here. She would be desperate for the king’s pardon, and there was a good chance she would recognize me.
Tightening my hand around the torch, I stepped forward.
This was an ageless, evil place. Cells stretched out on either side of me for as far as I could see. I splashed through stagnant puddles of water, peering into each cell, my heart breaking.
Would Asinia even still be alive?
All the prisoners were lying on the floor. Many of them seemed half dead. I crouched outside the closest cell and pressed my face next to the bars.
“Hello? Can you hear me?”
The man opened his eyes to slits, but that seemed to take all of his energy. A moment later, those eyes were closed again.
Vicer had warned that the prisoners were kept docile. But this wasn’t just docile. This was much, much worse.
If only I could break them all out. Could lead them straight out the front door of the castle and set them free. Back to their families.
My eyes burning, I stumbled to my feet and kept moving, passing prisoner after prisoner. I kept my voice low, but none of them responded, and I didn’t see Lina.
It felt as if years had passed by the time I found Asinia. She was on my left, curled into a ball on the stone floor, without even a blanket.
My heart cracked into pieces.
“Asinia?”
She didn’t reply. My hands shook as I shoved the key into the lock, swinging her cell door open. Crouching next to her, I leaned down.
“Asinia. Please be okay. Asinia, open your eyes.”
She cracked them open. “Pris?” she whispered, her voice so quiet I could barely make out her words. “Dreaming?”
“No, you’re not dreaming.” I pushed Asinia’s hair off her face, and my blood froze in my veins. “You’re burning up.”
“Miss you.”
I had to get her some medicine.
Her eyes met mine, blurry and lost. “My mother is dead.” They sharpened. “So is yours.”
My breath hitched. “I know.”
And then her head was lolling once more.
“She’s not going to last,” a weary voice said, and I turned my head.
The man in the cell to the right of Asinia’s looked about Tibris’s age, although he was little more than skin and bones. I could barely make out his face in this light, but a beard covered most of the lower half of it.
“She will last,” I snarled.
He smiled. “Perhaps she will, with a friend as fierce as you.”
I glanced around us. The cell to the left of Asinia’s was empty. Across the narrow corridor, most of the cells were occupied by more prisoners who lay as if already dead.
Turning my attention back to the prisoner, I surveyed him. The light was too dim to see much, but I could tell his hair was dark and his clothes were in even worse condition than most of the other prisoners I’d seen so far.
“How can you hold a conversation and no one else can?”
He twisted his lips. “I’ve built up somewhat of a tolerance to the guards’ poison.”
I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “What’s your name?”
“Demos.”
I closed my eyes. This was the man Vicer had ordered me to get out when I freed Asinia.
“I’m—”
“Don’t tell me.”
Because if he was tortured for that information, he would be forced to give it up.
I blew out a breath. “How long have you been here?”
“Almost two years.” He must have seen the surprise on my face. “I was caught days after Gods Day. For some unknown reason, I was spared during the next Gods Day. I doubt I’ll be as lucky this time.”
He didn’t look all that concerned about it. I had a feeling he was ready to end his existence in this cell.
“Why can’t any of you use your powers?”
“Iron poisoning.”
I frowned, peeking at his ears, which were most definitely not pointed. “We’re not fae. We can tolerate fae iron.”
He nodded. “We can tolerate it. But the first thing they do when we’re brought here is slice at our skin and push fae iron into our wounds. Then they crush it into dust and feed it to us in what little food they give us.”
I stored that information away, attempting to distance myself from the sickening reality of it. If I was going to get them both out of here, I needed them to be able to walk.
“Is the iron still in your body?”
He shifted closer, and for a moment, he seemed so familiar I had to blink. Then he was holding up his arm once more, the rags he wore shifting back to show me his shoulder.
The world dimmed around me. Demos was cursing, covering up the wound, but I could still see it in my mind. Could still see the infection that had spread through his entire shoulder. Could still see the pus that wept from it.
I leaned over Asinia, pushing her tunic off her shoulder. She had a wound in the same place, although it was nowhere near as infected as Demos’s.
Blowing out a breath, I met his gaze. “Why is yours so much worse?”