Page 157 of Hidden Kingdoms

I hadn’t expected there to be.

Calida’s mother was the lovechild of an Incaendium captain, and an enchanter from deep in the forests that blanketed Oraculum from a time when the mixing of kingdoms wasn’t a barrier most crossed. She claimed her grandmother told her incense would help channel her magik, but since Calida had never shown even a lick interest in the magik that claimed her heritage, I got the feeling she just enjoyed the smell.

That, and pissing off Sampson.

As if on cue, Sampson came thundering into the room, steps heavy on the floor, eyes focused on Calida and the swirling smoke that lazed through the air above her.

“Are you kidding me with this shit, Calida, why so many?” he demanded as he stalked towards the table.

“Good morning to you, too, Sammy,” she replied, and I held back my laugh as he scowled down at her.

“Put them out and don’t fucking call me Sammy.”

“I’m very busy right now. If you could keep your voice down, it would be appreciated.” She continued tapping away at the keys, her eyes shining with delight as he crossed to her, leaning down opposite with both hands slamming onto the desk. She didn’t look away from her screen.

“If you would stop burning those fucking sticks,thatwould be appreciated.”

“Is that appropriate language to use in the workplace, Sammy? Especially in front of the boss.” She indicated my way as her lips twitched into a shit-eating grin, and Sampson spun on his heel as he finally noticed me in the room.

“Apologies, Colonel,” he said, though his scowl remained fixed in place. Calida scoffed behind him, and he gritted his teeth.

I dismissed his apology with a wave of my hand. “Is everything ready for me?”

Sampson confirmed it was, and I nodded in thanks before striding from the room, anticipation at what waited coiling inside my body.

“It’s too early to be looking at your face, Sammy,” I heard Calida say, and they began to bicker between themselves as I continued quickly through the manor.

I encountered no one else as my boots thudded over the worn floor, which was good as I didn’t have time to stop and talk as I might have done at other times.

The matter at hand was a pressing one.

An exciting one.

It shouldn’t be. I shouldn’t enjoy it. Taking people apart piece by piece and savouring in each moment isn’t something a well-adjusted person found pleasure in.

I wasn’t well-adjusted.

In no time, I was deep within the carved parts of the manor, where we kept all the fun places. The wood-panelled walls gave way to the raw stone that the mountains were made from. Each door I passed through opened under the touch of my magik, my shadows twisting around my body in anticipation of what waited behind the last one.

There were no guards; it wasn’t necessary. If by some miracle anyone got through the doors, they would be led right into the heart of the manor. Which wasn’t the place you wanted to end up when you were supposed to be being held captive.

I felt my focus sharpen as I closed in on the door that could hold answers behind it. I was still beating myself up over what happened to Elodie, despite the fact she had told me it wasn’t myfault. I couldn’t help but feel it was, and I needed something—anything—to go on and find a reason for what happened to her. To find who was responsible.

My shadows reached for the steel door, caressing its surface as its lock unbolted and slowly swung open, the ominous creak something Darrow had added. For that‘extra creepy dungeon vibe’ he said.

56

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

KAIUS

Iwas scratching at the bottom, I knew that. Whoever was actually responsible for getting that guard into the castle wasn’t going to be found hiding out in a Tihveit pub basement, but I needed to start somewhere.

I’d be starting with the cretin currently sat in front of me.

And sat he was, because there were no chains on the chair he was in. No containment spell, not a lick of power kept him there. Just sheer, delicious terror.

Heavy breaths echoed around me, bouncing off the concrete that made up the walls and floors. The stench of fear permeated the room, the remnants of its previous inhabitants had seeped into its very fabric—this newest occupant adding his own to the mix. It was clean though, the iron grates placed strategically throughout the floor and a decent anti-sticking charm saw to that. Any mess made—and mess would be made—would be simply washed away.

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