Page 59 of Fur Ever Wicked
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Adalyn picked up speed once she hit the tunnels, darting around corners in an effort to reach her father faster. No longer worried about having to sneak past unsuspecting guards, she’d sent out tendrils of her majik searching for lookouts and found little to worry about. Three guards were stationed throughout the dungeon. All she planned to avoid.
The farther she traveled into the dungeon, the more anxious she became. Under the cover of the cloak, the tiny hairs on her arms stood on end. Her wolf whimpered in her mind.
Something was off.
Adalyn paused to look around. Had she missed something or someone in her majikal assessment? It felt as if someone was watching every move she made.
She glanced around and saw no one. Not a single being lurked in the darkened hall. She glanced toward the ceiling, half expecting to find a few hidden security cameras.
Nope.
Not a single one.
Her mother had never been a big believer in human technology, swearing spells and wards were the best way to keep out unwanted guests.
Fuck!
“How could I have forgotten about those?”
Her eyes shot to the floor, searching for any ruins she might have crossed. She’d been so busy worrying about being seen, she’d forgotten all about her mother’s love for ruins and the majik that came with them.
Nothing.
Ignoring the crippling anxiety threatening to hold her in place, Adalyn kept on moving. One foot in front of the other until she reached her father’s cell. Her heart broke at the sight of him. Once a proud and noble warrior, she imagined him as she had seen him in the pictures in Rafe’s office. The man who sat before her now was broken and bespelled.
He wore nothing but a dirty, torn pair of shorts. His feet were bare. Matted clumps of hair hung down past his waist. His emaciated frame, gauntly and pale. It looked as if he had been starved for years. She swore she could count every bone in his body.
He looked in her direction as if sensing her presence. Bjorn’s mustache and beard looked just as haggard as the matted hair atop his head. His eyes, much like her own, appeared lifeless despite the rise and fall of his chest with each breath.
Tears streamed down Adalyn’s face. How could her mother have done this? Why would she have captured and taken this fierce warrior for her own amusement? It made absolutely no sense. Any hope she’d held in her heart for her mother’s redemption vanished instantly. Anyone who would do something like this to another human—something this horrid… this vile, held no place in her heart.
She pulled the cloak from her head, allowing herself to be seen.
“Bjorn,” she whispered her father’s name.
He made no move to signal her presence or the fact that she’d said his name. He remained motionless, as dead as the look in his eyes.
A prickly feeling crept up Adalyn’s back. Every instinct in her body told her to run. She shrugged it off, more desperate than ever to free her father.
The simple lock attached to the iron bars appeared to be a trick. It couldn’t be the only thing holding her father captive. With a wave of her hand and a few whispered words, the lock fell to the floor and the door slid open.
Bjorn rose from his cement slab. “Who are you?”
“I’ll explain later. You must come with me if you want to live.” Adalyn held her hand out to her father, hoping he would accept the offer.
Something flashed in his eyes. So brief that if she would have blinked, she would have missed it. He reached for her hand and stepped out of the cell he’d been locked in far too long.
“She’ll come after me,” Bjorn said as they started down the hall to the exit.
“We’ll deal with that later. Right now, we have to keep moving.”
Adalyn whispered a prayer to Freyja.“Goddess, please lend me your strength to save my father.”
* * *
Their path remained clear as they fled the castle. Adalyn didn’t know if it was the prayer to Freyja that had kept them from being seen or sheer luck. She was willing to accept either at this point as the reason for their continued good fortune.
