Page 165 of Bloodguard

chapter 59

Maeve

We pass down the long hall of cells in the castle’s dungeon where Papa was kept. There are only a few prisoners, and they appear to be asleep, huddled in corners with no covers or pillows. I sneak past them easily enough, more mouse than woman.

Tut, not so much. He’s more scary swamp monster than man.

Slap, scratch.

Slap, scratch.

Slap, scratch…

“You really must trim those toenails,” I mutter under my breath.

Tut growls, which makes even more noise. A bear shifter in the cell to our left rolls onto his side. Fortunately, he rolls toward the wall. “My brother told me long toenails attract ladies.”

“Your brother was a liar,” I snap. “Tut, you’re being really loud. Keep it down.”

Hopefully trusting this ogre will be worth the risk. He is the only person alive other than Soro and Ugeen who knows how to get back down to the phoenix. Not only do I need that information, I must retrieve my grandfather’s sword before Soro discovers it.

My pace slows, eyes prickling with tears when I reach the stone cubby where Papa slept. I can’t ever see him again, at least not while Soro is king. It’s the only way to keep Papa safe. But maybe, if I play it right…

Tut points to a door farther down with a huff. Cobwebs encase it.

“That’s the way down?” I ask. “It looks like it hasn’t been opened.” I take a closer look. “Ever.”

Tut nods. “Some mage a while back placed a spell to make it look like no one’s bothered to go through it in over a hundred years. People don’t like creepy shit. And creepy shit involves doors that people have been too afraid to open.”

I nod, then step aside for Tut to work the lock with two thin pieces of metal from his pocket.

He ordered the guard assigned to dungeon duty to fetch fresh meat stew for the prisoners’ dinner tonight—in celebration of the future king and queen’s impending nuptials, of course—but I’m beginning to wonder if we should have knocked him out instead. After what feels like an eternity, I hear a faintclick, the door swings open, and we hurry through.

Tut strikes a piece of flint across the wall and lights a torch, illuminating the ominous spiral staircase that descends before us. I don’t remember these stairs at all, having been unconscious for part of my transport during my kidnapping and hooded for the rest. I never would have found this place alone.

I press my hand into the wall to keep my balance along the steep stairwell as it curves. As I spread my fingers, the row of rings I wear grows more uncomfortable, the prominent stones digging into my knuckles. I don’t have access to gold, but Soro showered me with plenty of jewelry to use as currency.

“Can I ask you something?” Tut says, his gruff voice echoing to the abyss below.

“Only if you can be a little quieter.”

Slap, scratch, slap, scratch.

Slap, scratch, slap, scratch…

Merciful moon, he must do something about those toenails. I’m uncertain how it’s possible that he’s causing such a commotion until I realize the big guy is walking sideways to accommodate his gigantic feet.

“The sword you’re getting down here. Why is it so important?” Tut rubs his eyes to clear some dust particles floating upward. “I know you don’t plan to give it to Soro.”

I clear my throat. I need to be careful. I’m not certain where Tut’s allegiances lie, and he’s already in a mood. The last thing I want is to enrage an ogre who could snap my neck and bury me down here. “You are correct.”

I have no intention of giving the sword to Soro, and frankly I’m relieved he hasn’t thought to retrieve it already. Perhaps he didn’t notice it, too distracted by murdering his father and all, or maybe he thought it was a replica created by the artist who carved the statues. But I knew better, recognizing it as genuine, even covered in dust in the near darkness.

“Tell me,” he says, his annoyance releasing in bursts of steam that flutter strings from a pulled web into the air. “It’s the sword that the queen used to bring down the phoenix. The one she took from her dead husband’s hands.” Oh, and Tut doesn’t like that one bit. He grinds his fangs, his tusks appearing to lengthen in the dim enclosure.

Does he think I mean to use the weapon to kill his beloved phoenix? Well, that’s not it. This isn’t about war. It’s about politics. If I am to take Soro as my king, my subjects must never view him as having more power or authority than me. He will only be kingbecauseof me. There is no symbol in Arrow more powerful than the Good King Masone’s phoenix-killing blade, and he will never have it.

Not that I intend to reveal such machinations to Tut. Just because I’m using him to get to the catacombs doesnotmean we’re allies, let alone confidants.

---