Page 89 of Crown of Iron
We travel along the warrior formation and around a corner, where more Khiros wait. They’re endless. I tuck my lips between my teeth, fighting the urge to ask Kyron if he thinks our soldiers will be all right. This was a possibility, one I considered as we walked through the mountain. All I can do is pray the Statera delivers as many of us as possible from this terrible night.
My emotions overwhelm me and my control of Kyron's power wanes. He pulls the leather face covering of his uniform over his jaw and yanks me in front of him. Without warning, he rips the helmet from my head, tossing it behind us. Holding my hands behind my back, he steers me through the street as his prisoner.
A Stigian snarls as we pass, hissing, “Kill the Lucent traitor,” and spits at my feet.
Let them hate who I am. It doesn't matter. I’m proud to call Lucent my home and nothing they say or do to me will change that.
Kyron holds firm, discreetly maneuvering me further away from the hostile warriors. He pries open the door of a single-story marble building and pushes me inside. Three Stigian guards stand tall in their dark uniforms, their eyes trained on us. We don't slow as we walk past them.
We did it. We're inside the prison.
“Where are you going, warrior?” asks a guard.
I stiffen against Kyron's chest, and he answers, “I found this Lucentroaming the streets. I'm containing her until she can be brought before the queen.”
“Orders were to kill on sight,” says a slender woman with a bald head. She pulls a dagger from her belt and steps toward us.
Kyron releases my hands and pushes me. “Run!”
I stumble forward, watching him over my shoulder. He unleashes his fire, setting the woman alight. I stand stunned in place, my mouth agape and stomach turning. As one warrior dowses her with water, the other, a man with stark-white hair, sends a bolt of electricity through Kyron's chest. The general falls to his knees, convulsing and clenching his stomach. I split my attention between him and calling the powers around me with the Eporri.
As Kyron scrambles to his feet, catching his breath, I take hold of the Electro's gift and turn it on him. He shakes, smoke billowing from the contact point, and slumps to the ground.
The door to the prison shutters, and Kyron scurries across the room and throws his body against it. His gaze burns into mine, and he gasps, “I'll hold them off. Now fucking go, Raelle!”
It takes every ounce of my willpower to turn away from him, leaving him to fend for himself. I bound through the doorway and descend into the belly of the prison.
Thirty-One
My legs ache and my lungs burn as I sprint down the spiraling staircase, passing landing after landing. I question if I should stop and check the floors above, but something deep inside me knows Papa won't be there. Cyffreds are no better than caged animals used to entertain and gratify their captors. The cells on the upper levels are too good for them. Esmeray would cast them to the deepest level of hell.
The thought sends warm tears trailing down my cheeks. It’s a jolting reminder that I have a purpose. The pain these Cyffreds have endured, the heartache felt by families who have lost loved ones to this place, and the sacrifices the Lucent soldiers make tonight won't be for nothing. I will deliver my father home or die trying.
The soles of my boots hit the bottom floor and the force of it pushes the air from my lungs. I catch my breath and take in the long corridor. Tiny circular lights glow from the ceiling, but they don't flicker like the lanterns and candles found in Lucent. This light is constant, like the sun. Steel bars line the walls and dirty, weary faces stare out from between them.
“Shit,” I whisper.
The cells are no bigger than large crates used to transport livestock, and they don't smell much better. The people locked inside are living in waste, sleeping on the hard stone floor, and I doubt they’ve been properlyfed. In fact, they're not living or even barely surviving. These Cyffreds are dying.
“What are you doing down here?” I spin around, and the large man stalking toward me pauses. Vines curl around his arms and legs, clinging to the leather of his uniform. He looks into my eyes with his black irises and hisses, “Cyffred, how did you get out of your cell?”
I shrug. “I don't know. Maybe you forgot to lock the door.”
Vines with three-pointed leaves uncoil from his body, like snakes ready to strike. I turn to run, but the stems whip at my skin, grabbing my ankle and pulling. I crash to my stomach, slamming my chin to the ground. The plants reel me in, dragging me across the floor as I dig at the stones, unable to find a grip.
I glance down my body at the vines clenching my leg and my panic ebbs. I may be a Cyffred, but I'm not defenseless. Flipping onto my back, I hold out my hand and take control of the Pianti's gift. The vines obey my silent command and spring back to the warrior. He jumps, shaking his legs and cursing, but the limber stems climb up his calves, over his torso, and around his neck. At my order, they squeeze, restricting his airway. The warrior claws at the vines, gasping for his next breath, but they hold firm, digging into his skin.
I scramble to my feet as he crashes to the ground. His lips are blue, body limp, and his eyes stare blankly at the ceiling. With no time to dwell on what I've done, I rip my gaze from him and bolt down the passage.
The hallway is silent, lifeless. I peer into each cell where hopeless Cyffreds watch me. There’s no rhyme or reason for their imprisonment. Some are barely adults and others close to their final years, but seeing each of them is like a punch to my gut. They remind me of my limitations. I shouldn't leave any of them behind, but my mission is clear. I'm here for one. The rest of these desperate souls will have to wait for now. But I swear, one day I will set them free.
I reach the end of the hallway, place my hands on my head, and spin in a slow circle. Despair washes over me. No one promised this would be easy, but I never considered it would be so fucking hard. I was positive he would be down here, but I'm at another dead-end.
A youthful face pressed against the bars next to me, bringing me to a stop. I lean in close, narrowing my eyes. “Rose?”
“Raelle?”
Rose is a shell of the beautiful girl I remember. I was once envious of her gorgeous dark curls and the way the sun left golden kisses on her nose and cheeks. Gone are her voluptuous curves, replaced with tight skin, clinging to every bone of her body. Leif's ex-girlfriend is a dull and withering version of herself.
