Page 87 of Reign of Light
“You really don’t recognize me?”
He extends his arm, and I take the hint to walk, but I keep my pace slow. After a few moments with only the sound of our footsteps on the stone floor, he finally answers.
“I’m just following orders, lady.”
Following orders? Why would there be orders to detain me inmycastle? Who the fuck is giving these orders, because Brynne never would. My skin prickles with goosebumps as I continue walking, but try to keep my voice even so he doesn’t hear my nervous impatience.
“Who gave the orders, Park? Why would you lock me in my own dungeon?”
His face stays stoic, but there’s something in his eyes that he’s trying to fight. It’s obvious he takes his duty seriously. “The commander doesn’t believe you’re who you say, so I have to listen. Besides, the princess hasn’t been seen for years. Why would anyone believe you?”
“Becauseyouknow I’m telling the truth,” I plead with him. “I need you to bring me to Brynne. Now.”
“The Second Guard isn’t available to speak to prisoners,” he mumbles.
Frustration threatens to break through my calm facade. “She will speak to me. Bring me to her.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t do that, lady.”
My chest rises and falls in a deep inhale. This isn’t working. No matter how much practice I have at convincing people I am on their side, like I did in the beginning with the Castaways, clearly the guards’ devotion to duty outweighs all personal feelings. It’s a noble quality to have in those protecting your kingdom, unless they’re throwing you in the dungeon.
Glancing down the dark corridor again, I consider making a run for it, but I refuse to leave Weston alone. With how Guthrie looked at him and the obvious indication that Weston could overpower even the entire group of guards, I don’t want to risk them hurting him more than they already have. I also hate to admit to him and to myself that I’ve never seen this part of the castle. I don’t have any idea where I am going, because I had no reason to ever be down here to begin with. Why hadn’t I ever had Edmond bring me here in all the years of our lessons? Clearly it was a mistake, although I never thought I would need to know.
“Turn right, and step down,” Park says, and I follow obediently, descending the stone steps into further darkness.
The room that surrounds us when the floor flattens is simple, a box of stone walls with a single wooden door on the far wall. Anempty guard’s station sits off to the side, probably at the request of those guarding Weston, to ensure they had all the help they could get. Park strides past me, opening the door and ushering me through, his hand clamping around my upper arm as he leads me deeper into the dungeon.
Cells with iron bars line the walls, each small room separated by a thick stone wall. No prisoners are locked inside any as we pass deeper into the dark, cold space. Park tugs me down the hall, his shoulders pulling back the closer we get to the mass of bodies illuminated by a single torch just ahead. I steel myself against the worry of what I will walk up to, as I take in the guards leering into the cage.
Dread fills me when I realize this will be the first time I’ve been separated from Weston since he saved me from Dane. With all the uncertainty surrounding our return home, I am trying not to let it affect me. I need to keep my mind clear, to think through everything the way I’ve been taught, and to get out of this as soon as I can.
I try to hide my shock when Park walks me past Weston’s cell, in front of the group of guards, and right to the open iron door. A quick glance at Weston inside tells me he isn’t harmed, but the look of fury on his face as his eyes trail down to where Park has his hand wrapped around my arm tells me it will not bode well for this young guard.
I step inside, and the door clangs closed behind me. Before Park can even step away, Weston is stalking to the bars, until he towers over the man. The look on Park’s face would make anyone think there wasn’t iron separating them, and his throat bobs with a gulp.
“I thought I said hands off.” Weston’s voice is a deathly growl, and Park startles away from the bars, causing the group of guards behind him to snicker.
“Eh, ignore him,” one says. “He can’t do anything to you now.” The guard raises his folded arms, laden with Weston’s belt and weapons, his sword laid across the top, and my breath catches when I see what else they took.
The pouch.
It sits on top of the pile, the value completely lost on the men before us.
I don’t acknowledge it. I don’t want to draw attention to it. When all of this is settled, we will get it back, because it can’t fall into the hands of people who don’t know what it is, or worse, would exploit it.
“Blackwood law states that prisoners can have an audience with the First Guard,” Weston barks, finally pulling his glare away from Park and directing it to the group. “Since that is me, I demand to see the king.”
“Right,” a man scoffs. “We’ll just bring him right down to talk to you.”
“I’ve never even met the king,” another says. “He wouldn’t listen to me anyway, even if I had.”
“Nice try, imposter,” the man with Weston’s things snaps. “Maybe next time, come up with a better plan than just trying to waltz into the castle.”
I step toward the bars, wrapping my hands around them and softening my voice once again.
“Park, please. Please, just go get Brynne. Tell her Lennox needs her.”
The other guards laugh, and Park’s face stays unmoving, except for his eyes that look between us.
