“I think I can convince him.”
“I’m sure you do—it’s another thing you and your mother have in common. You cling to your lies and keep right on pushing. But sooner or later they always come back to haunt you.”
He moves toward the window, staring out at the night sky.
“Your mother never told you why she helped me capture you, did she?” he whispers.
“You were there,” I remind him. “You heard her excuses.”
“Yes, I suppose I did.” He turns back to face me. “You didn’t believe she had no choice?”
“My mother will sacrifice anyone or anything to benefit herself.”
“She’s a survivor,” he agrees. “But that wasn’t why she betrayed you.”
He pauses, waiting for me to ask more questions—but I don’t care about her reasons. No threat or trick or scheme of hers could ever justify the horrors she brought upon Gus.
I reach for his hand, glad to feel he has some grip.
“I know you’re hoping to escape,” Raiden says, stepping closer to the bars. “So let me give you a piece of advice. I have defenses you can’t see—consequences you can’t imagine. If you try to leave my fortress, your friend will die.”
An earth-shaking boom saves me from having to respond.
Raiden rushes to the window. “Looks like your boyfriend is right on schedule,” he says as another boom echoes.
Panic reaches inside me, grabbing hold of my heart and squeezing squeezing squeezing.
More explosions follow, some closer, some farther away.
“He’s a better fighter than I anticipated,” Raiden says.
“I trained him well.”
Raiden laughs. “Yes, well no amount of training prepares anyone to face the Shredder.”
My mouth is too dry to speak, my heart crumbling with every minute that passes. Every explosion.
But maybe this is the opportunity I’ve been waiting for.
“Sounds like your Stormers are struggling,” I say. “Shouldn’t you be rushing down there to lead?”
“I can lead them just fine from up here.” He reaches through the barred window and catches a dull, yellow draft, closing his eyes and inhaling the wind with a slow, deep breath.
The wind sinks in, and he spits it back out, grumbling several commands before sending the sickly wind back out into the night.
I only understand one word.
Arella.
So my mother survived the Maelstrom.
That explains how Vane could be fighting so well, and how he found his way here.
I can’t believe he was willing to trust her—though perhaps its wise he did.
Raiden looks . . . rattled by her presence.
His knuckles turn white as he squeezes the bars, waiting for another wind to report on the showdown.
Another explosion erupts, loud enough to make my ears ring.
But the silence that follows is much more terrifying.
Come on, Vane—keep fighting.
Another yellowed draft arrives, and this time Raiden smiles as he breathes it in.
“Apparently they found our special tunnel,” he tells me. “I had it built in case some fool ever got it in their head to search for the Royal Passage.”
I’m not entirely sure what he means, but I get the basic gist.
Vane and my mother just flew right into Raiden’s trap.
CHAPTER 15
VANE
It smells in this tunnel.
And it’s too dark to see anything.
And I’m pretty sure I just brushed my hand against some sort of mutant-size rat.
But we’re finally getting close to Audra.
At least, I think we are.
Right now we’re just walking and walking and walking.
“How long is the Royal Passage?” I ask Solana, who’s right behind me, followed by Arella, with Aston bringing up the rear.
We have to walk single file—don’t ask me how I ended up the leader.
Solana doesn’t reply. It doesn’t even seem like she hears me.
“Is there a problem?” Aston asks her.
“I’m . . . not sure. The tunnel was wider in my father’s memories. And the Southwell crest was carved into the wall.”
“How can you see anything?” I ask.
“I can’t—but that’s another problem. The tunnel my father used had a bluish glow. I think it was some type of bioluminescence—and maybe the frost is messing with it, but . . . the walls were also made of stone.”
I run my hand over the muddy sides, trying to feel if there’s something solid underneath.
All I find is squishy stuff and creepy-crawlies.
“Well . . . maybe we’re in a different part?” I say, shaking the yuck off my hand. “Or maybe your dad remembered it wrong?”
“Or,” Aston says slowly, “the mythical tunnel was too mythical.”
“That sounds like Raiden,” Arella whispers.
“Am I supposed to know what that means?” I ask.
“Ask yourself this,” Aston says. “What would Raiden do if he heard a legend of a secret tunnel?”
“How would I know?” I tell him. “I’ve never read the evil murderer’s handbook.”