Page 10 of King of Storms and Feathers

I yelped, then gritted my teeth, praying that would be the last I ever saw of him.

Intermittent moans and manic laughter echoed in the distance as the guard shoved me out of the astonishing contraption approximately two floors below where we had entered the palace, the doors clanging shut behind us.

Underfloor was a long dark tunnel, lined with overcrowded cells occupied by humans and a scattering of fae. I wondered if they were Light Realm fae and if so, what crimes they had committed to be forsaken by their own people.

Water dripped down stone walls from pipes secured at the back of each cell, forming crude drinking fountains. The stench of unwashed bodies, piss, and shit made me gag, and if I had more food in my belly, it would’ve erupted, landing on the guards’ boots.

They marched me past the side cells and stopped in front of the largest one at the end of the tunnel. I squinted through the bars at the group of ragged people inside.

There were approximately twenty, most of them crouched low, a few standing and swaying on their bare feet, and one or two asleep, their bodies pressed against the walls.

Conditions in this cell looked somewhat better than the others, with less prisoners crammed inside it, most of them appearing in better shape.

The guard unlocked the door and pushed me through it. I whipped around and gripped the bars. “Please, wait…”

He glanced up, hitching his keys to a metal belt around his waist. “Going to offer your services for a chance to escape, pet? Don’t bother. You’re not worth losing my balls over.”

“Why am I in this cell and not one of the others?”

He snorted, spat on the stone floor at my feet, then marched back along the tunnel, heading for the elevator that would carry him up to the light-filled halls above Underfloor and the irritating noise of the caged auron kanara birds.

Something prodded my shoulder, and I shoved away from the bars, my chained fists clenched and raised, ready to ram them into the man who stood before me.

The human male chuckled, flashing a near-toothless smile. I lowered my fists. He looked harmless enough, weak and starved, with brown pants hanging off bony hips and deep hollows between his bare, mud-streaked ribs.

“Nice cloak,” he said, fingering the material wrapped around me. “Where’d you get it?”

“I stole it,” I lied.

“It bears the king’s crest.”

“Does it?” I asked, glancing down at the embroidered golden feathers that glinted in the dark.

“Where did you steal it from?”

“The Farron Gilt Market. Found it on the ground when I ran from the fae who purchased me.”

“Sure you did.” He snorted. “And when this fae caught you, he or she didn’t take it off you?”

I shook my head. “As you can see, they didn’t.”

“Interesting tale. I’m Davy.” His gray brow rose, a signal for me to give my name.

I said nothing.

“And you are?” he asked when he grew tired of waiting.

I shrugged. “I’ve lost my memory.”

“Convenient.” He swept his palm toward the back wall. “There’s water over there if you’re thirsty.”

A man and a woman sat beneath the water pipe, drinking like babes at a teat, their lips and teeth clashing. It didn’t look very hygienic.

“No, thanks. I’m fine.”

He pulled me toward the left wall, away from the other prisoners whose eyes were carefully averted, which struck me as strange. Perhaps Davy ran the show down here and had first claim to the fresh meat.

“Sit down. It’ll be a while before they throw us our dinner.”

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