Page 19 of Hidden

“As to my reason for keeping you here,” Galeeta went on, “I want to know why an ancient Undead is keeping company with a barely-tamed wolf.”

“Why does it matter?”

“It’s strange how you arrived without an invitation, and then you were able to get inside.”

“This isn’t a real home,” Izetta replied. “Even if it was, it’s too new to repel the Undead. That power takes time to build.”

“You’re right. This place was recently constructed, with extra accommodations.” The fae swept her hand around the cell’s blank walls.

“I’ve heard King Elroth is doing a bit of traveling,” Izetta said casually. “Word gets around.”

Galeeta frowned. She probably thought no one but other fae had noticed the Forest King left the city with his court in tow. Rumor had it that there had been a dip in the effectiveness of certain kinds of spells. Some fae believed it was caused by living away from their natural environment. Others thought it was living near humans, as if mortality was catching.

Was fae power actually tanking? Izetta had no idea, but it meant this court noble—what else could she be?—was left behind while her king bolted for the hills. That had to burn. Maybe it explained the vaguely panicked look in her eyes—or maybe Galeeta wasn’t the badass she liked to believe.

The fae stepped closer and lightly ran a finger over Izetta’s belly, as if slashing it from side to side. A hot prickle of energy followed her touch, making Izetta flinch. “People don’t break into other people’s places for legitimate reasons. I think you’re a thief. What did you come here to take?”

Izetta said nothing, letting the silence stretch. She’d been a captive many times before—in her line of work, it happened. She’d learned to bide her time and wait for opportunity.

Galeeta took a step back, her large gray eyes narrowing. There was a nervous tic in her jaw. “Being Undead does not make you impervious to persuasion. I have servants who are expert in such arts.”

Izetta grinned, letting fang show. “I’ve been persuaded by the best.”

“Don’t be a fool. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m a realist,” Izetta replied. “You might be looking for information, but that’s a small part of the story.”

“Oh?”

“You’re really looking to assign blame, because that makes you a victim instead of the villain.”

The fae gave an annoyed frown. “Why would I want that?”

“Your boss—and everyone has a boss—will ask how someone got inside your secret playhouse. More specifically, how you let that happen.” Izetta licked her lips, which were starting to crack with thirst. “Having someone to blame comes in handy, except blame leads to killing innocent people.”

Galeeta made a faint sound of derision. “What does a vampire care about collateral damage?”

“Besides getting damaged? Age actually makes some of us thoughtful. Sadly, I think it makes you cling to whatever self-justification keeps you going.”

The fae’s eyes glittered with temper. “Popular psychology won’t keep you whole.”

Izetta curled her lip. “You fae have something to hide, and you’re afraid I’ve found out what that is. You want to know who sent me snooping around. Otherwise, I would be dead.”

From the female’s expression, Izetta had hit the mark. Now she knew what the woman wanted. Maybe Rafe had been right about the Magician hiding within these walls.

“You are not the first vampire that’s fallen captive to House Fernblade,” Galeeta said in frozen tones. “We know the Undead can heal one injury, then another, and then yet another, but eventually you will need fresh blood.”

A cold fist of fear seized Izetta’s gut. So few understood how to truly torture her kind.

Galeeta folded her slender arms. “Eventually, you will break. Then you will tell me everything I want to know.”

Lila crossed the black and white tiles of the entry hall, her heart pounding. She’d learned enough on her last visit to the dungeon to be wary, both of the occupants and the magic guarding them. She could disarm or circumvent many spells—she had been trained well from the time she was a child—but some of what she’d sensed was beyond her skill.

Ademar had excelled at higher level magic, such as the Sleeping Beauty spell. He had probably learned it from Lord Farras, who was no doubt responsible for much of the magic around this place. Apparently, there was a perimeter spell in the surrounding forest that prevented visitors from reaching the road. No one got away once the fae took a prisoner.

Her father was a prisoner. The very idea made her want to retch. The king’s dungeon was no joke, and King Elroth had a particular hatred for traitors. Once inside that tower, few ever got out. If pleasing Farras convinced him to advocate for her father, she’d play along. And if getting information out of the wolf got her useful answers, she’d do that, too. She hated fae politics with a passion, but she’d suck it up for the sake of her father’s life.

The door that hid the basement stairs stood just to the right of the grand staircase leading to the upper floors. The knob was enameled to match the stark white walls. The door was almost as well-concealed as the secret passage Ademar had used during Teegar’s attack, which begged the question of how many hidden entrances she hadn’t found yet.

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