Page 6 of A War of Three Kings

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think Father is cruel enough to keep anyone in these old dungeons.” Diarmuid whispers the words, as though he is afraid of waking old spirits. “Especially not when they are in this condition.”

I stop and turn to him, pulling a thick spider web from his hair. He shudders visibly at the sight of it. “I need to be sure,” I say. “I’m sorry to drag you down here again, but I couldn’t do this alone.” My voice breaks.

My brother’s hold on me tightens. “Nor should you. Like I said, I am here to support you in whatever capacity you need me, but we did search this place thoroughly yesterday…and the day before.”

Guilt washes through me for dragging my brother to this horrible place that should be left to the old bones and vermin. For not being able to find Aldrin, no matter where I search.

He could be dead already for all I know. My throat constricts as pain burns through me. Tears prickle my eyes.

Surely my father would not lie to me about that.

No matter what Aldrin has done, no matter who he really is, he doesn’t deserve to be kept in a place like this. To be abused or mistreated.

“What if there is a trapdoor we have missed? Secret chambers or a hidden staircase?” My voice turns shrill. “I cannot leave him here.”

As I start spiraling, Diarmuid takes my arm and leads me on. “Then let’s search this place and leave no room for doubt.”

We already visited the active prison multiple times, but there were only humans in the white-tiled rooms, waiting for their trials. I have always been proud of the fact that my father has never used this dank, inhumane dungeon. That our prisoners have clean beds, blankets and full bellies.

The apartments for securing highborn prisoners are also empty. Those lush chambers have every amenity available for comfort, while bars, guards and wards ensure none can break out. That is where I want Aldrin and his band of supporters.

We trudge through the dungeon in silence, and my helpless panic slowly recedes as we confirm every corner is empty, with no hidden doors or tunnels.

“What if he isn’t in the keep?” I whisper as we make our way back.

“He will be. It is far too great a risk to transport all those fae elsewhere. Their capture, and the fact that they were not executed immediately, is a well-guarded secret. Besides, Father said he spoke with Aldrin.”

I take my brother’s hand and squeeze it. “Thank you.”

He pulls me against his chest and gives me a quick hug. “You would have done the same for me.”

We take the stairs up from the old dungeons and blink as we step into beams of bright daylight seeping into a rarely used foyer of the keep.

I cough as the fresh air enters my dust-filled lungs. I instinctually bring a hand to my mouth, but I quickly cut the motion short. My fingers are grimy, and my sleeves are coated in dirt and spider webs. Diarmuid smacks at his clothes with vigor, causing a puff of dust to rise around us.

A deep despair fills me at my continued failure to find Aldrin. Does he believe I have abandoned him? That I will allow his death?

I am constantly so afraid for him, I cannot eat or sleep—but it doesn’t mean I’m not absolutely livid with him. It doesn’t mask the betrayal that coats my tongue with bitterness, or the hollowness of my heart. It doesn’t prevent my rages whenever I am alone in my rooms, tossing pillows and books against the wall.

I trusted Aldrin. I gave him my heart and my body, and he lied to me.

How much of what happened between us was true? A shiver racks through my entire body at the thought and it threatens to turn me into a weeping mess.

These obsessive searches for Aldrin help me as much as they help him, because they serve as a distraction from the emotions closing in around me.

I don’t know what I will do if I find him. I am not ready to look him in the eye and have an honest conversation about the things that lie between us. I am not ready to hear him out. I think I would make sure he is safe, then slap his pretty face.

My steps down the corridor speed up as my mind spins in circles, rage brimming within me.

Diarmuid grabs my elbow and slows me to almost a stop. “Speak to me. Or if not me, at least Caitlin or Brianna.” His hazel eyes are clouded with worry, and his light brown shoulder-length hair sticks up in tufts coated with dust.

I rub my temples. “There are a thousand thoughts in my head. I am so angry with him and so scared for him. Part of me is elated that he came for me, but another part is horrified at the idea that he could have been manipulating me this whole time. How could he not tell me that he tried to take me before? That he fought our father overme? What if he is like every other aggressively possessive fae?”

Footsteps echo through the corridor behind us, growing closer, but whoever it is hasn’t rounded the corner yet.

Diarmuid glances quickly over his shoulder in their direction. “I find it hard to believe that every person in an entire race could be exactly the same. Our father and grandmother will tell you one thing, but in the end, you have to trust your own gut. None of us know Aldrin and his supporters like you do.”

A shuddering breath leaves me. “I don’t know what to think anymore, Diarmuid. I’ve lost my faith in my instincts. I was so wrong about Finan.”

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