The Crown Prophecy

Chapter 24

I didn’t allow myself to feel relief when the outline of the Falerian capital became visible in the distance. Instead, I forced myself into numbness, steeled my nerves, and sharpened them into weapons. I had spent as much of the ride as I could practicing my casting, and though I was still nowhere near as controlled as Vanessa or Colette, I trusted myself enough to be useful on this mission. We would not fail.

On the outskirts of the city, Vanessa held up a hand for us to stop.

“We need a plan before we storm in,” she said. “My Gift should be enough for us to gain entry to the castle, but I have no idea what kind of defenses they’ll have once we’re inside.”

“I’ll cover our backs,” I promised. “I can do it.”

“I believe you can, Quinn, but I also need you to be mindful of your limits. When we find my mother and Evander and have to make our way out, your Gift will be even more essential, so try not to burn out before then.”

I nodded. I would master myself. I had to.

“I don’t think I can stretch myself to controlling three at a time yet,” she continued, “and they’ll have more guards than that, so keep those vines ready, Colette.”

Vanessa distributed the hunting knives from the bandits’ packs and checked her quiver. Only three arrows remained. It didn’t feel like nearly enough, but I knew our Gifts were the only weapons that would really matter.

Vanessa grimaced as she looked over our inventory, having a similar internal debate. Coming to the same conclusion I had, she looked up.

“We’re going in with a lot less intel than I’d like, but I don’t see that we have a choice. If they’ve already taken Evander’s Gift, or gods forbid both his and my mother’s, they have no reason to keep them alive.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and I watched her throat bobas she swallowed the emotion.

“We can do this,” Colette said, ever the encourager of the group. “Orobas has no idea we’re here, and he still expects Quinn to be powerless.”

Fortifying myself with a breath, I nodded. She was right. Stealth and cunning were our allies; I just hoped they would be enough.

The morning sun warmed my skin as I reached out for my friends’ hands.

“Whatever happens in there, find Evander and get yourselves out,” I said. Colette looked like she was going to protest, but stopped when she registered my pleading eyes. Emotion was thick in my throat as I fought to continue. “There will never be enough words of thanks to express my gratitude for all you’ve done for me. I love you both.”

“We love you too, Quinn,” Colette sniffled, throwing her arms around me. Vanessa simply slipped her hand in mine and nodded once. I knew I could count on her to do whatever was needed to get Colette, Evander, and her mother back to Enorias safely, and for that I would be forever grateful.

So, with only our resolve and a skeleton of a plan, we rode into Orobas’s stronghold.

. . .

From the stories I’d heard growing up in Enorias, I was prepared for the capital city of Falerin to be a dark and desolate place, devoid of life and joy and reeking of oppression.

Instead, to my surprise, it was so much like Lilifel that I found myself blinking back surprise. Men and women walked the streets, carrying ingredients they had purchased at the market for supper. A cobbler advertised a special for resoling old shoes at a discounted price, and I heard the sound of children laughing as they played marbles in the alley.

I couldn’t see the familiar shimmerings of magic, but otherwise it seemed no different than any other town.

The only ominous landmark I could pick out was, unfortunately, the very place we were headed. Orobas’s castle rose from the center of the city, the dark cousin of the Rial palace. Its black marble turrets shone above iron gates tipped with what looked like spearheads. We circled it once at a distance, determining the best place to gain entry.

Like our own castle, it seemed there was only one way in, and the gates were heavily guarded. Soldiers in full armor, weapons glinting at their waists and on their backs, controlled the flow of traffic in and out of the palace, turning away most carriages that approached. The few that were let inside, however, looked familiar.

I ducked into an alleyway, beckoning for Vanessa and Colette to follow.

“Every carriage they’ve let in so far has been a merchant or tradesman,” I whispered. “I recognize their wagons–they’re the same type my father uses to transport goods.”

“All right,” Colette said, the wheels in her mind turning, “so we find someone who’s supposed to be making a delivery today and Vanessa convinces them to let us stow away?”

“It’s as good a plan as any,” Vanessa sighed.

It took us the better part of the afternoon and some well-placed bribes to obtain the name of a local blacksmith that made deliveries to the palace, and an hour after that to find her shop. Bypassing the worn counter in the front of her smithy, we headed straight to the forge, where we found her working on a curious set of gauntlets.

Barely straightening when she heard us enter, she called over her shoulder. “Sorry, smithy is closed to the public today!”

Ignoring her dismissal, Vanessa continued toward her work bench. The woman straightened up and made the mistake of turning around, meeting my friend’s gaze.

“You’re going to take us with you into the palace grounds today.” Vanessa ordered. The blacksmith looked confused for a moment before a serene smile came across her face and she nodded.

“Of course I am!”

“I am your apprentice,” Vanessa continued. “You will make no mention of the other two.”

“You are my apprentice,” the woman repeated in the same bland tone. “Of course.”

No wonder Maddox took such great pains to keep her and her daughter’s Gifts a secret. Just watching her cast was mildly terrifying. It was a good thing Vanessa was on my side. A shiver ran down my spine as I imagined crossing her path as an enemy, even as I thanked the gods for her help.

Twenty minutes later, Colette and I were stowed in the back of the blacksmith’s cart. Vanessa rode in front so she could help with further persuasion if necessary.

As we rolled up to the spiked gate, I held my breath, listening to the conversation happening ahead of us.

“Checking in for my regular delivery,” the blacksmith said absently. “And who is this?” the gruff voice of a guard asked.

“An apprentice.” I held my breath as I waited for his response.

Without being able to see them, I didn’t know whether the guard accepted the lie without further questioning or if Vanessa had needed to convince him with her Gift, but I breathed a sigh of relief as we crossed the gates regardless.

The wagon took us to the barracks, where we managed to slip out without notice.

“You don’t remember the last half hour,” Vanessa told the dreamy-eyed blacksmith. She seemed like a nice enough woman, so I hoped for her sake that our infiltration was never traced back to her.

Then again, if she was supplying weapons to Orobas, perhaps she wasn’t as innocent as she seemed.

The soldiers’ quarters were massive. The series of interconnected buildings were at least five times the size of the barracks in Lilifel. That didn’t bode well.

Thankfully, the enormity worked in our favor in at least one regard. We managed to find a few guards’ uniforms in the sparsely appointed sleeping quarters, and made it past several soldiers undetected as we skirted across the grounds and into the palace.

Inside, dark stone walls lit with torches extended in all directions. Luxury dripped from every surface, from the tapestries on the walls depicting rather gruesome battles Falerin had won, to the thick blood-red carpets under our feet. Suits of armor stood guard beside heavy doors studded with iron, seemingly ready to jump into service at a moment’s notice.

“Now what?” I asked, keeping my voice to a whisper.

“We make our way down.” Vanessa’s tone was grim, her posture rigid. “And we find the dungeons.”

This turned out to be easier said than done. The passages between floors didn’t present themselves to us as effortlessly as I’d hoped, and we had to look surreptitiously to avoid alerting any of the servants.

With every guard that passed, I held my breath and tried to look at ease, as if I weren’t wary of the long shadows cast by gilded braziers on the walls. One of the most important parts of a convincing lie was to act as though you believed it yourself, so I tried to become a Falerian guard on another dull day of rounds. Thankfully, our first two encounters yielded nothing more than a few stunted nods of acknowledgment, and I couldn’t believe our good fortune.

That luck seemed to fizzle as we turned down a wide hallway and were stopped by one of the armored guards we had seen at the gates.

“What unit are you from?” he asked, squinting his eyes at me.

“The third,” I said, venturing a distinctly un educated guess. “We’ve been assigned to the dungeons this evening, so we’re headed down now.”

The man’s hand moved toward his scabbard and I began to panic. “On whose authority?” he asked.

“Yours,” Vanessa cut in, her Gift flaring.

The guard nodded.

Thank the gods.

“Of course. Allow me to escort you,” he said, his gaze blank and amiable.

My shoulders fell from where they had taken residence under my ears, though some unease lingered. I’d never been more aware that a single misstep could be the difference between succeeding in our mission and being locked in Orobas’s dungeons ourselves.

As we followed the guard down the hallway, I memorized each turn we took. Right, right, third door on the left, down a flight of stairs, then another.

The smell of freshly baked bread wafted past my nose as we passed a room on the ground floor. I could hear the familiar sound of clanging pots and pans within.

How strange to think that there was a kitchen in this place, probably as bustling and busy as the one back home, that baked bread and made meals. I supposed not everyone in the castle was as wicked as the king. Did they have a head baker as kind as Mellie? A sous chef as competitive as Serena or as loyal as James? It was entirely possible, and the eeriness of it sent a chill down my spine.

Down one more level, the air grew cold and stale. A rogue moan drifted out from the long hallway, silenced after a sickening thump.

“Backup from the Third,” our escort introduced us to the two men guarding the entrance.

The men looked at each other warily before turning their gazes back to us.

“Captain Walmont,” one of them began delicately, “we’re not off duty for several more hours.”

“Then consider this your lucky day,” Vanessa interjected. The two guards opened and closed their mouths like gaping fish, and the man who had escorted us to the dungeons, evidently Captain Walmont, shook his head, disoriented.

“Shit,” Vanessa said, just as Walmont blinked at us, his eyes clearing.

“I don’t know who you are, but you aren’t leaving this dungeon,” he promised, drawing his sword.

Pouring everything I had into the casting, I created a ward around us as Colette planted her feet and raised her arms. Confusion barely had time to register on Walmont's face before her vines shot out, knocking the sword from his hand and pinning him to the ground.

The other two guards stood there stupidly as Vanessa breathed a labored sigh of relief and Colette flashed a brilliant grin.

“I can’t hold them both for much longer,” Vanessa panted. “Both of you go ahead.” Sweat was already beading on her forehead. We needed to be fast.

Colette and I rushed into a dark hallway lined with bars. Most were empty, which struck me as odd, but a few housed inhabitants in various stages of stupor. Averting my eyes, I tried not to look at their bloodied faces or gaunt bodies as we walked past. As much as I wished I could free every one of them, our priority had to be Evander and Maddox.

The dark flagstone reverberated with our footsteps as we passed one cell that held nothing but a pile of what looked suspiciously like bones. With a shudder, I forced my gaze ahead.

My panicked heart beat erratically as we passed cell after cell, finding no trace of my husband, until a weary voice croaked behind me, cutting the unnatural silence.

“Your Majesty?” I turned to peer through the bars of a room a few paces behind us.

The figure was huddled in a corner, clutching a ripped cloak for warmth. A ripped Enorian cloak.

“Captain Maddox?”

Vanessa’s mother rose to meet me, wobbling on her legs. It looked like she hadn’t eaten in days, and I could see a nasty-looking gash, covered in pus and blood, on her left thigh.

“Where is Evander?” I hated myself a little for neglecting to ask if she was all right before questioning her, but I had to know.

“I haven’t seen him since early this morning,” Maddox replied, and my heart fell. “Six guards came and took him to the throne room. I couldn’t stop them. Your Majesty, I’m so sorry.”

Her eyes were filled with guilt and shame at her perceived failure. I interrupted her with a gentle hand on her arm. “There’s nothing you could have done.”

She started to protest, but there was no time. I turned to Colette. “I’m going to go see if the guards at the front have a key.”

“Wait,” she countered, coaxing another vine from the ground. A fragrant tendril of Jasmine, smaller and thinner than the behemoth plants she had created to hold the guards, snaked toward the padlock on Maddox’s cell and wormed its way into the keyhole. Colette’s face screwed up in concentration for only a moment before I heard a soft click.

“You’re brilliant.” I beamed at my friend, dreading what I knew had to come next.

“Take care of Maddox. Get her back to Vanessa, and then I need all three of you to get yourselves out,” I instructed. “I’m going to find Evander.”

Colette, loyal as she was, didn’t like that idea at all. “You’re my friend,” she protested. “I’m not leaving you.”

“The captain is in no condition to fight,” I said, gesturing to Vanessa’s mother, “and I’ll be less noticeable alone.”

“But–” Colette pleaded.

“I’m not asking you as a friend,” I said softly. “I’m ordering you as your sovereign.” Her soft brown eyes steeled, and she nodded once, the movement small but resolute.

I tried not to think about the fact that it was my first command as queen. Gods willing, it wouldn’t be my last.

. . .