Page 76 of Of Kings and Thieves

This time, I was led not into the familiar darkness of the dungeons, but instead up into a tower, through a heavy door and into a small, furnished room. The space was claustrophobic, but a far cry from the dank cells I had expected.

“Get in,” the guard growled, shoving me inside before slamming the door shut. The lock clicked in place, shutting me in.

The room was sparsely outfitted, but it was clear someone had made little effort to make it appear more inviting than a prison cell. A narrow bed with a thin mattress and a rickety wooden chair were the only furniture in the dimly lit space.

At least there was a blanket. The great hall had been stifling from the heat of all the bodies, but here the chill clung to the walls and window. I wrapped the blanket around me and sank onto the edge of the bed, my legs shaking from exhaustion. Unsurprisingly, the mattress was as hard as stone.

Cold rain pelted the narrow window, casting a somber mood as it dripped along the stone walls of my new prison cell. For prison cell it was, even though it was better than the dungeons.

My first thought was to close my eyes and sleep while I could.

“Hello, Samara,” said a voice from inside the room.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

I jumped off the bed and whirled around, all sleep forgotten. A figure in black stood at the open window, rain dripping from the edges of a silver mask. A mask carved with the face of a snarling beast.

“Killian!” I blurted in relief. He raised a hand to the door, and I felt the faintest trace of magic slide by me.

“Now they can’t hear us,” he said.

I glanced back at the locked door and then went to the window. The view looked out over the lake far below, the water obscured by mist. “How did you get in here?”

“Magic,” he said, removing his mask. I had never been so happy to see his severe face and dark eyes.

“Magic?” I raised an eyebrow, sinking down on the chair.

“The Darkrift isn’t my only means of secret travel,” he said quickly. He scanned the room, his gaze sharp and focused.

Killian’s expression darkened as he took in the room’s sparse furnishings. But I didn’t care. I had lived with less.

Surely his presence meant freedom. Hope flared in my chest, burning away the chill and my doubts. “Are you going to get us out of here?”

He shook his head, dashing my hopes as quickly as they’d risen. “Not yet. If you escape now, The Harrow will hunt you down.” His voice was grim. “And he’ll likely take out his anger on Col, just because he can.”

My hands curled into fists. “That’s why we need to get Col too… and the alicorn horn powder!” I stood and began pacing, more out of an effort to keep warm in the thin dress than anything else.

“Tell me about it.”

I recounted everything about that horrible night, including as much detail as I could about the ritual. Killian listened intently, his face growing pale as I finished with the prisoners being turned to stone.

“It’s not unexpected,” he said after a minute. “But you've told me more than I already knew. We need a plan for getting our hands on it. If we were to make a move and fail, The Harrow will unleash the weapon on the people of Iron Deep. Therefore, we cannot fail.”

“Coward,” I said.

Killian’s tone was hard. “I assume you are speaking of The Harrow.”

Still simmering with rage, I nodded. “So Col and I are just pawns for now.”

“Isn’t that all any of us are?” Killian replied, a hint of bitterness tinging his voice. “Pieces on a board, waiting to be sacrificed for the greater good—or for the whims of our masters.”

“Fuck that,” I said. “I refuse to be someone’s plaything, to be used and discarded when it suits them.”

“Good,” Killian said, his eyes flicking back and forth between mine, as if searching for something. “Hold on to that anger, Samara. Let it fuel you. But don’t let it consume you. We must play the long game. Rescue Col and stop The Harrow when the time is right, with the means to protect the innocent in the process.”

I wanted to rage and scream, but I knew he was right. As much as it galled me to admit it.

“How is Col?” I asked quietly. “Has that bastard hurt him?”

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