Page 98 of The Sorcerer of Shadowholde

As far as he knew, there were no proceedings scheduled for today, or even this week. He had worked here a few times since being promoted to Praetorian guard, but never for anything other than official council business.

His instructions were simple. Let no one in or out, other than the Praetor himself or a man named Spurius. Verian had seen neither as he stood watch with his brother in arms, Phaedrus.

It had been a long day.

One of their brothers had brought them a simple lunch, but that had been the only break they’d received for many hours. The shadows lengthened, casting the Curia courtyard in an eerie gloom.

All day alone with his thoughts, going over what he’d say to Vita when he saw her. He’d force her to listen to him, force her to hear him out so he could get everything in the open. He would… he would quit the guard, as much as it pained him, knowing that Drusus’ words were true.

This was not what he wanted, was just something that had been engrained in him since he was a young lad at the training collegium. Look how the guard had treated his father after he had died in the line of duty… like a nobody, when he had been everything to Verian and his mother.

He had messed things up with Vita, and he was going to fix it. As strong as she was, as much as she’d been through, it was clear how she needed someone devoted to her. And he could be that person. He didn’t want to go back to being friends, needed to hold her in his arms until the end of their days.

He only hoped she was safe, that he had just missed her when he was looking for her last night.

Drusus broke him out of his tumult of thoughts, approaching the bronze doors with a small tray in his hands and another guard in tow. “You both are relieved, but someone needs to bring this to the basement.”

“The basement?” Verian had been down there a handful of times to gather supplies for one council member or another, the dank darkness always giving him a disturbing chill.

Drusus shrugged. “He has some sort of prisoner down there.”

The small cup of water and dry loaf of bread tracked with that statement. Even so, it made little sense.

“Why is a prisoner here instead of the jail?”

Now Drusus glanced around before leaning in close. “Rumor has it that this prisoner can domagic.”

The statement sent an icy chill through Verian’s veins, his mouth going dry. A prisoner who could do magic, someone the Praetor was obsessed with…

Vita.

“I’ll take it,” he offered, grabbing the tray before Drusus could protest.

The guard commander quirked a brow, but said nothing else.

Phaedrus heaved the great bronze door open, and Verian took shaky steps into the Curia.

It couldn’t be Vita. Praetor Amulius had no right to kidnap Shadowholde citizens, regardless of what crimes they were accused of. And yet it was the only conclusion that made sense.

He made his way down a dark staircase, trying to stop his heart from racing. The tray rattled in his hands as he attempted to steady himself. He came out to an empty hallway, unsure where exactly he was supposed to go until a voice surprised him from the shadows.

“I’ll take that, soldier.”

The words tensed every muscle in his body, as if something were probing deep within him. Some sort of presence, unseen and unheard, yet he could feel its investigation of his mind. He tried to remain calm, taking a deep breath as a figure appeared from the dim hallway.

Lit braziers revealed an unassuming man, small and fair. What disturbed Verian was the dark, searching eyes, the wicked grin plastered on his pale face.

The man seized the tray from him before slinking back into the darkness.

“Is there anything else you need?” Verian called, finally regaining his capacity for speech, but was met with his own echoed voice.

He waited on bated breath for a response, a noise, anything, but there was only silence. With his heart racing, he turned and ran back up the stairs in a clatter of armor.

Verian slammed his fists against the wooden doors, chest heaving with exertion.

“High Consul!” he yelled, his voice hoarse.

Why the Hells wouldn’t they let him in? Exhaustion buzzed through him, but desperation urged him onward.

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