Page 10 of A War of Three Kings

“Do you know where they are?” I ask.

A smile grows on Caitlin’s face. “I have a lead. One that our dear brother Diarmuid will bring to fruition.”

My heart tumbles at those words, and I dare to hope.

“Me?” Diarmuid’s eyebrows shoot up. “If I knew where they were, I wouldn’t have combed the damned dungeons multiple times.”

“I spoke with Liam and Aiden, who escorted Father’s fae prisoners,” Caitlin says. “Apparently, there is a prison cut deep in the castle’s bedrock, warded with spells and built specifically to hold fae.”

I lurch forward with a hundred questions on my lips, but she holds up a finger.

“The access point is behind the barracks. We’ll need a letter of authority from the head warden of the prison to enter. Maybe even for him to escort us there in person.”

I crash hard, bitter disappointment raising bile in my throat. “Father would have given Warden Lucien specific orders against allowing us access.”

“That’s where he comes into play.” Caitlin flicks her head toward Diarmuid, who has a slow smile growing on his face.

Brianna giggles behind me. “Diarmuid plays cards with the head warden. I heard the man is quite a heavy drinker in his downtime, and he was part of the group our dear brother used to get into a lot of trouble with when he was my age.”

Diarmuid’s eyes dart to her. “How do you even remember that? You must have been five at the time.Anyway, Lucien holds his liquor well, so most people cannot tell when he is absolutely wasted. I’ll butter him up and take away his wits, then Caitlin can come in and bark orders at him. I’ll be too drunk myself by that point to stagger down to the prisons with you, but we’ll get you to Aldrin, Keira. I promise you that.”

I am so painfully close to finding Aldrin, it terrifies me.

I don’t know what state he will be in. My mind immediately recoils at the idea that my father could be cruel to anyone, but I can’t reject it completely.

I don’t know how I will react to finding Aldrin. I want to slap him and kiss him at the same time. To be bound up in his strong arms, and to never let him touch me again. I want to scream and scream at him while I pound his chest. To sit with him and listen patiently to his story while I stroke his hair.

My confused thoughts bounce from one extreme to the other so quickly I am left with mental whiplash. I just need to find him, to know he is safe. Everything else can come later.

Chapter 3

Aldrin

Istare at the notches scratched into the wall opposite me. Seven. By the darkness, how could it have been only seven days since I was brought to this damned cell?

A guard slides open the compartment at the bottom of the door and pushes through a roll and a mug of water.

I narrow my eyes at the sight.

The drug in the water is having less of a dampening effect on my magic each day. Perhaps after a month in here my body will become acclimated to it, and I will have full access to my magic—if I am not dead by then.

I laugh at the ridiculousness of the thought. The sound peals out of me, half-choked and unhinged even to my own ears, leaving me panting. I have never been this fragile in my life.

The bread.

My eyes are drawn back to it. It could be poisoned too.

It was covered in blue mold yesterday. A poison of sorts.

I didn’t touch it then, but today? My resolve is slipping.

Hunger like I have never known before rakes through me, twisting my gut into burning knots. The pain is so intense that I cannot focus on anything else as the acid builds and scorches me from the inside.

It takes several tries for me to pull myself off the bed, but I finally approach the offering on shaking legs.My fingers grasp the mug first and I drink the water greedily, ignoring the now-familiar aftertaste. It eases my dry throat, but only marginally.

I pick up the bread roll and turn it over and over in my hands. There are blue specks all over it, but it isn’t as bad as the one from yesterday, which was mushy with great patches of furry mold.

I don’t have the willpower to go another entire day without food. Not after the extreme fasting of the last seven days. I scratch away the offending spots, then devour the bread, not wasting a crumb. I can’t even taste it anymore.

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