Bloodguard

chapter 59

Maeve

We pass down the long hall of cells in the castle’s dungeon where Papa was kept. There are only a few prisoners, and they appear to be asleep, huddled in corners with no covers or pillows. I sneak past them easily enough, more mouse than woman.

Tut, not so much. He’s more scary swamp monster than man.

Slap, scratch.

Slap, scratch.

Slap, scratch…

“You really must trim those toenails,” I mutter under my breath.

Tut growls, which makes even more noise. A bear shifter in the cell to our left rolls onto his side. Fortunately, he rolls toward the wall. “My brother told me long toenails attract ladies.”

“Your brother was a liar,” I snap. “Tut, you’re being really loud. Keep it down.”

Hopefully trusting this ogre will be worth the risk. He is the only person alive other than Soro and Ugeen who knows how to get back down to the phoenix. Not only do I need that information, I must retrieve my grandfather’s sword before Soro discovers it.

My pace slows, eyes prickling with tears when I reach the stone cubby where Papa slept. I can’t ever see him again, at least not while Soro is king. It’s the only way to keep Papa safe. But maybe, if I play it right…

Tut points to a door farther down with a huff. Cobwebs encase it.

“That’s the way down?” I ask. “It looks like it hasn’t been opened.” I take a closer look. “Ever.”

Tut nods. “Some mage a while back placed a spell to make it look like no one’s bothered to go through it in over a hundred years. People don’t like creepy shit. And creepy shit involves doors that people have been too afraid to open.”

I nod, then step aside for Tut to work the lock with two thin pieces of metal from his pocket.

He ordered the guard assigned to dungeon duty to fetch fresh meat stew for the prisoners’ dinner tonight—in celebration of the future king and queen’s impending nuptials, of course—but I’m beginning to wonder if we should have knocked him out instead. After what feels like an eternity, I hear a faint click , the door swings open, and we hurry through.

Tut strikes a piece of flint across the wall and lights a torch, illuminating the ominous spiral staircase that descends before us. I don’t remember these stairs at all, having been unconscious for part of my transport during my kidnapping and hooded for the rest. I never would have found this place alone.

I press my hand into the wall to keep my balance along the steep stairwell as it curves. As I spread my fingers, the row of rings I wear grows more uncomfortable, the prominent stones digging into my knuckles. I don’t have access to gold, but Soro showered me with plenty of jewelry to use as currency.

“Can I ask you something?” Tut says, his gruff voice echoing to the abyss below.

“Only if you can be a little quieter.”

Slap, scratch, slap, scratch.

Slap, scratch, slap, scratch…

Merciful moon, he must do something about those toenails. I’m uncertain how it’s possible that he’s causing such a commotion until I realize the big guy is walking sideways to accommodate his gigantic feet.

“The sword you’re getting down here. Why is it so important?” Tut rubs his eyes to clear some dust particles floating upward. “I know you don’t plan to give it to Soro.”

I clear my throat. I need to be careful. I’m not certain where Tut’s allegiances lie, and he’s already in a mood. The last thing I want is to enrage an ogre who could snap my neck and bury me down here. “You are correct.”

I have no intention of giving the sword to Soro, and frankly I’m relieved he hasn’t thought to retrieve it already. Perhaps he didn’t notice it, too distracted by murdering his father and all, or maybe he thought it was a replica created by the artist who carved the statues. But I knew better, recognizing it as genuine, even covered in dust in the near darkness.

“Tell me,” he says, his annoyance releasing in bursts of steam that flutter strings from a pulled web into the air. “It’s the sword that the queen used to bring down the phoenix. The one she took from her dead husband’s hands.” Oh, and Tut doesn’t like that one bit. He grinds his fangs, his tusks appearing to lengthen in the dim enclosure.

Does he think I mean to use the weapon to kill his beloved phoenix? Well, that’s not it. This isn’t about war. It’s about politics. If I am to take Soro as my king, my subjects must never view him as having more power or authority than me. He will only be king because of me. There is no symbol in Arrow more powerful than the Good King Masone’s phoenix-killing blade, and he will never have it.

Not that I intend to reveal such machinations to Tut. Just because I’m using him to get to the catacombs does not mean we’re allies, let alone confidants.

I pause to adjust my rings, attempting to act casual. The rings will go to Brynne and Lita in exchange for helping me smuggle the King Sword into my wing of the castle undetected. The coin from the jewelry will support their families for several years. I only hope that fear won’t force them to report me. Soro cannot have that sword.

“You’re dawdling,” Tut says, obviously annoyed I didn’t answer his question.

“Forgive me,” I say in the same tone.

I hurry down three more steps and almost trip when, instead of another step, my feet strike flat ground. Tut lights the next torch and moves to where the maze of bones begins.

I cough when Tut kicks up enough dust to form a film along my tongue. It’s sweltering down here. The close walls of the maze provide some relief, but it will only get hotter the closer we get to Aurora.

I cough so violently, I press my hand against the wall to keep my balance, only to jerk it back when my fingers slip into the eye sockets of a skull.

Disgust roils my insides when I think about just how many bones are in this place and how many lives were lost to make Aurora, and thus Arrow, stronger. It’s wrong. All of it. But Arrow is strong with or without a phoenix. Somehow, we’ll survive without Aurora. I just need to figure out how to release her myself without the risk of her falling into the wrong hands again. But not anytime soon. My first priority is retrieving the sword.

Tut coughs and spits on the ground when we take a wrong turn. “Ugh. I taste the dead.”

I cover my mouth. Me too, Tut. Me too.

We pick our way through the veritable minefield of bones leading to Aurora’s cage.

“I presume you plan to return here tomorrow?” I ask.

“Your birthday, wedding, and coronation are the distraction my people and I will need to free the phoenix.” He narrows his tiny black eyes. “You have to do this, Princess. I brought you down here like you asked. You owe us this.”

Something about Tut’s tone feels off. I wipe the perspiration dripping from my chin with my sleeve. His quest sounds noble, but…as much as I need him, I definitely don’t trust him.

I try to act casual. My sweaty hands grip my skirt to flap it.

“Why did you wear that down here?” Tut asks, sounding annoyed.

“It’s how I’m sneaking the sword back to my people,” I say. “The black will also hide the amount of sweat sticking to me.”

“Ya,” he says as he turns to face me, sizing me up like an opponent, not a coconspirator.

And that’s when my suspicions are confirmed: Yep, I’ve walked right into a trap.

So be it.