Ky grips his knife’s hilt with one hand and presses me against the curving stone with the other. His pulse throbs through his wrist.
“Find them. Don’t let them escape!”
That honeyed voice. No. Not him. Anyone but Haman.
I take in Ky’s nervous stance. The way he hides from a man who’s supposedly on his team. Maybe he is being genuine this time. Only one way to find out. “We have to find my mom.” I tug on his leather sleeve. “She’s somewhere in the castle. Jasyn said she’s safe, but I don’t believe him.” Sweat seeps into my shirt. So much for clean clothes.
“I know where she is.” He doesn’t look at me, his gaze attending the commotion above.
“And there was a prisoner. A man. He spoke to me. He sounded ill. We should go back and free him.”
“I’m sorry, there’s no time. You’re my priority.”
“But—”
“No.”
I don’t argue. We wait, our heartbeats a single percussion instrument. A drum roll ushering in the big finale.
Silence. Ky creeps forward.
I move in harmony with him, the distance to the next floor brief. The steps continue to ascend, but we exit and enter a smoky hall. Sizzle, clang. A greasy bacon odor gusts toward us. Barf. How can anyone stand the artery-clogging muck?
A rounded door looms at the hall’s end, open archways running toward it on either side. Ten feet ahead, a plump woman wearing a gravy-splattered apron waddles across, a wooden bowl in her dough-caked hands.
If I’m ever going to have a heart attack . . .
She bends over a flour sack and scoops some into the bowl. A strand of hair falls into her eyes. She swipes it away, straightening and arching her back. Her gaze trains on us.
We’re doomed.
Ky rolls his shoulders, throws my hand aside, and strides forward. He walks with all the pomp and confidence of a rock ’n’ roll legend taking the stage for the thousandth time.
I trail him, head down.
“Master Kyaphus.” The woman bows her head.
Master Kyaphus?
“Ophelia.” He nods in her direction. “Our security has been breached. His Sovereignty instructed me to transfer the girl to a more secure location. Please, do not let us interrupt your work. Carry on.”
We saunter straight past as she stares. She doesn’t protest, but my heart batters violently until we’re free.
When the door moans closed, I lean against the outside wall. “Which way to my mom?”
“Follow me.”
We circumvent a turret, relying on sparse shadows to conceal us from the guards above. The stables I saw—and smelled—lie just ahead. A long brick building with a sloping roof and several archways punched out of its face.
“This way!” Haman shouts.
Double snap.
Ky drags me forward, practically catapulting me behind a stack of hay bales. The spiky straw bites my palms.
“Rhyen?” Venom drips from Haman’s tone as he nears. “I was not aware you were on the patrol schedule this evening.”
Ky leans against the side of the bale stack, props an elbow on the hay, and shifts his body, shadowing me even more. “Switched with Carmichael.” He crosses one leg over the other, adding to his casual front. “Thornson authorized it.”
“You know very well all shift changes are to be approved by me. Only. Me.”
I hold my breath, but I can’t do anything about my very audible, hammering pulse.
“I didn’t think you’d mind, Haman. After all, I’m the only reason His Sovereignty has forgiven you for losing the girl at the bridge.”
I have to hand it to him. He’s got guts.
Pause. Scuffle. “Be very careful, Kyaphus.” I can almost see Haman’s leer, cruel and condescending. “Or you might find yourself without a soul one of these days.” More scuffling. Retreating footsteps.
My lungs free a breath. If I doubted Ky was truly rescuing me before, I don’t now.
He comes around the bales and crouches. “Shall we?”
I nod.
He helps me up and we rush through an arch into the stables’ shelter. It’s quiet aside from the horses’ heavy breathing. I inhale the stale air. Choke. My eyes water from the manure odor. I pull my shirt collar over my nose like a medical mask. We continue forward, our footsteps muted by the hay-clumped earth.
Ky stops. Scoops something off the ground. Click. A flashlight beam illuminates his face. He shoulders a tan leather pack. Opens a door. “In here.”
I’m shoved into what appears to be a supply closet. Push broom. Saddle. Coils of rope. “What are you doing? Where’s my mom?”
Ky steps into the closet. The space is cramped, hardly big enough for two people. His chest presses against my arm.
I shrink into myself. This is a little too close for comfort.
“Ready?” Ky says.
“For what?”
The door snaps closed. First comes a chugging whine, like cogs turning, metal grinding. I cover my ears. The back wall swings out. A staircase. Ky shoves past me, points the flashlight down the steps. “Come on.”
We descend, dust motes floating on the shafts of light preceding us. The passage narrows the farther we go. Great. I just love small, cramped spaces.
At the bottom I stop. “Where. Is. My. Mom?”
“Don’t worry.” He moves along what appears to be an underground tunnel. The flashlight beam only illuminates the space a few feet in front of him. “We’re nearly there.”
My hesitant heart twists.
“He rescued you. Give him a chance.”
Sigh. Okay, Mom. I trail Ky.
“You still don’t trust me,” he muses over his shoulder.
Thank you, Captain Obvious. “What other choice do I have?”
“There’s always a choice.”
Easy for you to say. “I guess.”
We continue on in silence. Time becomes obsolete. How much farther? At one point the path slopes upward. Thirty minutes? An hour? Finally, Ky climbs another set of stairs, then shoves a door open. Two sore calves and a sweat-soaked shirt later, I emerge from a cave into the night.
I whirl. We’re in the middle of a forest. “Where are we?” Panic presses in, cramping my middle, constricting my throat.
“The Forest of Night.” His flashlight-carrying hand waves me forward. “We have to keep moving. I don’t want to be in Shadow Territory any longer than necessary.”
I stalk toward him, matching his determined stride. “I thought we were going to get my mom.” My arm flings in the direction we came from.
“Keep it down,” he whisper-yells. “And I never said that. I believe what I said was that you were my priority.”
My boots slip on loose gravel as I come to a heartbreaking halt. “You said you know where she is.” I hug my stomach. “You lied to me.” All the hate and fury and rage I had for him before doubles. Quadruples. “Again.”
“I didn’t lie. I do know where she is. But after her escape the other night, Crowe increased her security detail. I didn’t have time to deal with that and get you out.”
No. No, no, no, no. I whip around, hair snapping my face, and march back to the tunnel’s exit. But where I thought there was a door stands nothing but solid rock. I press a hand to it, hoping it’ll be a façade like the exit at the Haven. It’s not.
Ky comes up behind me. “The tunnels are emergency exits only. The doors lock from the inside.” He takes my elbow. “Come on. We have to keep moving.” When I don’t budge, he adds, “She’ll be okay. Crowe won’t hurt her.”