Page 96 of The Last Heir of Elsewhere

Like a silent wraith, one of the veiled queens stood in the center of the hallway in front of me. Before I could speak, the queen raised one gloved hand and gave a small wave.

My eyes widened in surprise. She could see me then, but could she speak?

I stared directly into where her eyes would be beneath the veil, and felt a bit foolish as I said: “Hello…are you alright after last night?”

I had to assume this was the same queen who’d been with me on the balcony, and my theory was confirmed when she nodded.

A sudden spark of excitement shot through me. The queen would likely know where the dungeon was, would she not? But, could I trust her enough to ask?

On second thought, it didn’t matter whether I could trust her or not. I was getting nowhere on my own, and the possibility that she might be able to help was too important to ignore. Anyway, if I found them then we’d be long gone, back to the ship, before the queen ever had the chance to tell her husband.

“Are you able to speak to me?” I asked.

She nodded this time. Perhaps she was simply afraid to speak, or maybe the king was holding her captive?

“Listen, I’m looking for something…” I frantically cast my mind around for some excuse I could give her, and came up with nothing. Finally, I gave in to the necessity of asking directly. I only hoped I would not regret it. “Can you show me where the dungeons are?”

She nodded again, and beckoned more urgently for me to follow before turning to walk down the hall. Excitement quickening my heart, I darted after her.

We moved in silence.

The queen’s crimson robes whispered against the floor, and the only sound was that of my heavy boots and labored breathing as she led me deeper into the bowels of the castle. With each echoing floor we descended, my anticipation swelled, pressing against the walls until it felt as if the very stones held their breath.

Finally, the queen stopped and turned to me. Behind her, a smooth, stone door was set into the wall. She gestured toward it, nodding.

I tensed. Perhaps this had been painfully stupid. But then, I had the dagger in my boot and, if nothing else, the crown on my head had killed a far more powerful fairy than whatever could be under that veil.

Still, I hung back from the door. “You first.”

To my surprise, the queen immediately turned and reached for the handle. She swung the door wide, and all at once a familiar scent whooshed out to greet me.

The stench of the dungeon filled my nostrils, bringing back memories of the long year I spent trapped beneath the obsidian palace. The musty, damp odor was suffocating, like a heavy blanket pressing down on me. Decay, despair…It was a scent that would forever be etched into my memory, haunting me even now as I stood outside the fortress walls.

For a moment, I swayed on my feet, giving in to the horrible memories that came along with the scent. Then, I blinked, my mind snapping back to reality.

“The dungeon?” I asked the queen, pointing at the dark hallway beyond.

She nodded, and stepped through the door. Filled with anticipation, I leaned in and followed.

Like the obsidian castle dungeon, each side of a long, winding hallway was filled with iron-barred cells, their rusted bars casting menacing shadows on the stone floor below. Dust motes danced in the still air, and the silence was only broken by the occasional moan or whimper from within.

I ignored all of it.

I dashed inside, quickly overtaking the queen. My boots pounded the damp floor, as I glanced right and left, scanning each cell for a familiar face.

As I hurried down the long corridor, my heart raced with worry. Each door I passed looked the same. The flickering torches cast dancing shadows across my face, making it difficult to see, and I began to fear I would never find them. Panic set in as the hallway seemed to stretch on forever.

Then, a sudden noise to my left made me stop.

Peering carefully into the dark cell beyond, my heart swelled with both excitement and relief. “Bael.”

39

LONNIE

UNDERNEATH

Bael looked up at me from where he sat on the floor of the filthy cell. Mud caked his clothes, and a deep gash ran across his chin.

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