It reminded me of the way this city had looked the night of the Kejari’s finale—the night Raihn had taken over.
“I won’t be able to see underwater,” I said. “It’s straight ahead. Then to the left once we get closer to the castle. One of the grates leads inside and connects to the tunnels. Stay close to me.”
“One of the grates?” he repeated. I understood his point—the castle was enormous, and had a dozen sewage grates on its western side alone.
I was so young when Vincent had showed me this, and it had been from the inside out, not outside in. I didn’t remember exactly which one. Luck would, hopefully, be on our side.
I winced. “I’ll... have to try a few.”
He laughed softly. “It’s not fun if it’s too easy.”
That was one way of looking at it.
“Ready?” he said.
I glanced down at the rancid muck.
No. No I was not.
I was glad that Raihn had packed a few different sets of leathers for my grand escape. I’d have to burn these.
But aloud I just said, “Absolutely.”
Together, we ducked beneath the water.
I wasn’t the best swimmer. Raihn was fast, but he had to keep stopping to let me catch up to him. Worse, I couldn’t see anything—even in the few seconds I could force my eyes open at a time, I saw nothing but cloudy darkness. Raihn and I stole silent gulps of air at the longest intervals possible, especially as we approached the castle. Guards were everywhere, both Rishan and Bloodborn, though they appeared to be wildly disorganized. Most rushed around yelling at each other rather than standing watch.
They were, we pieced together, trying to find Raihn, and they were certain they’d do so out in the city as he attempted to flee—not at their doorstep as he came crawling back to the castle.
Fair assumption. This was not what most rational people would do. Let alone by swimming through sludge.
And it was, indeed, sludge by the time we made it to the castle, the liquid too thick to be called “water,” sticking to my skin and hair every time we rose to take a precious gulp of air. The smell was so putrid that even those seconds above the surface weren’t such a treat anymore, no matter whether I breathed through my nose or mouth. I could taste it.
At one point, I caught Raihn eyeing me, a pursed smile at his lips, like he was trying very hard not to laugh. I scowled at him, and he shook his head. Even silent, though, I could hear the words: That fucking face.
I had to be grateful for the sewage, though—at least it disguised our scents, especially mine. Even when we swam mere feet away from soldiers on the streets above, we passed undetected.
When we finally reached the turn where the river met the castle’s aqueducts, I thanked the Goddess under my breath. We had to fight a surprisingly strong current to make it up to the castle, since the channels had been constructed at a slight downward angle to ensure the constant outward flow of waste. Clinging to the side, allowing the stone wall to shield me, I poked my head above the water to examine the grates ahead.
I could not even remotely remember which one led into the tunnels.
I dove again, throwing myself against the first set of iron bars. Raihn swam beside me, helping me pull at the metal.
Not the first. Nor the second. When we rose for another quick breath, the voices of the soldiers were even closer.
Fuck. The longer we stayed in one place, the greater our risk of being seen. I didn’t know how much longer we had here before someone would wander too close.
Please, Vincent, this had better be the one.
We slipped under the water and threw ourselves against the next set of bars.
And maybe the Goddess or my dead father were looking out for us, after all, because this one ground into movement immediately.
The door was awkward, designed to be pushed out from the inside instead of entered from the outside. Raihn held it open for me to wiggle through, and I did the same for him as he squeezed between the metal rods. No easy feat against this current, stronger than ever this close to the castle sewers.
Inside, Raihn had to grab my arm and use his body mass to keep me from getting swept away. By the time the tunnel started to rise, we were practically dragging ourselves along the slime-slicked walls. My muscles screamed. My lungs burned, desperate for air. I clutched the strap over my chest, suddenly very afraid that the current would sweep the Taker of Hearts off my back.
When the floor finally rose and we could stand, I choked out, “Thank the Mother.”
“That,” Raihn muttered, “was fucking vile.”
He wiped sludge from his face as I leapt out of the water and dragged myself up a steep step at the side of the tunnel. The air was hot and stagnant, and it absolutely reeked of shit.
It was still a Goddess-damned perfumery compared to where we’d just come from.
Raihn followed me, the two of us now standing on a raised pathway along the edge of the sewer. It was very dark in here. I conjured a little ball of Nightfire in my palm, and blue light bathed Raihn’s face.
I snickered.
“What?” he said.
Here he was. The Nightborn King. Drenched, wearing ill-fitting, cheap leathers, face completely covered in shit save for the domino mask of “clean” skin he’d wiped around his eyes.
He read my face and sighed. “Because you look so fucking fantastic, princess. Ix’s tits. Let’s get going. Where’s this tunnel?”
Right.
That was a good question. I shuffled along the wall, hand pressed to the brick—rough, old, slimy. More or less how one would expect stone that had been marinating in centuries worth of wet excrement to feel.
“It was around here somewhere,” I muttered, feeling around the bricks. “Under one of these arches—”
My fingertips snagged on something. At first, I thought it was just a crack in the bricks, but a second pass and a closer look with the Nightfire revealed otherwise—no, it was an outline.
“Here,” I said.
“I’ve got it.” Raihn threw his weight against the door. He strained against it for a few seconds, face contorted, before giving up and leaning against the wall. “You’re sure this opens in this direction?”
Fuck. I certainly hoped it did. Otherwise, we were screwed.
Vincent was so thorough. I couldn’t imagine that he would go through the trouble of creating such an elaborate path out unless he also planned to use it as an emergency path back in, too, if he needed it.
But… only if he needed it.
“He’d have made sure that only he could use it,” I said. “Maybe I…”
On a hunch, I grabbed my blade from my hip and swiped the tip over my palm, opening a delicate river of red. Then I pressed the bleeding wound to the door, cringing slightly at the sting of the slimy surface against the cut.
My first thought was, I am definitely going to get an infection from this.
My second was, This isn’t going to work.