Warlord and the Waif by Chloe Parker

CHAPTER THIRTY

ELLA

I FOLLOW THE mob up the winding path to the front door, my fists clenched at my sides. The front door is barred shut, but a giant creature pounds on it with its fists while others start hurling their weapons against it. It’s only a matter of time until we take the fight inside.

But I know a better way.

I slip out of the crowd and throw my hood over my head again to shuffle across the courtyard, staying low in the dark. I pass the pool where Calder and I almost made love, crossing a footbridge over the stream until I reach the service door into the castle. I hope that my idea holds up. If it does, this will prove to be the master key to the whole place.

I pull it from my pocket as I get closer, holding it out to the door and glancing around for Hyperboreans. I don’t see any, but I remember Ioni’s white face in the dark and urge the door to open. I only exhale when the lock clicks into place and the door slides up to reveal a shadowed hallway.

Thank you, Lucien.

I press the key back into my pocket and step forward, my boot landing with a thud on the stone floor. This is no good; I need to be quiet. I take the boots off and leave them by the door, hoping I don’t regret that decision in the end. Then I make my way deeper into the castle, heading for the service passages where I know I’ll find a staircase to the dungeon. I’ve been there before on my nighttime wanderings, where I’d found it dusty and presumably unused. With any luck, I’ll find both Calder and Portia there and the mob will make it through the front door without issue.

There’s a lot riding on everything falling exactly into place.

The service passages are dark and quiet, and I don’t dare grab one of the glow lamps. I can hear the faint rumble of the mob in the courtyard, still hammering away at the door, along with hushed voices in the direction of the entry. As far as I know, everyone should be in the entry or the throne room, lying in wait for the mob to enter.

Footsteps.

I press myself against the wall, clutching my dagger in my hand. I’m no expert, but Portia showed me a little of what she knows during our time in the kitchen. If it comes down to it, I tell myself I’ll be able to fight someone off, or maybe even kill.

They pass without incident and I breathe a sigh of relief.

Onward. Soon I find the stairs and hurry down, following the spiral and staying deep within the cloak. The dungeon should be just below, and my anticipation mounts as I think about my reunion with Calder. A yellow glow outlines the door, and I creep toward it to push it in slowly.

Then I hear voices.

It’s Portia, bickering with someone unfamiliar. Damn. It didn’t occur to me that there would be guards, but it makes perfect sense. Portia is talking fast in an irate tone, and the Hyperborean guard sounds like he’s just dismissing her. I steel myself and push the door open wider, wincing when it creaks.

He doesn’t seem to notice, but Portia does.

Her blue eyes flicker to mine, but beyond that she doesn’t acknowledge me. I tip-toe forward, grateful for leaving my shoes behind, my knife in my hand. If I’m going to act, I need to do it now. I raise the knife, ready to plunge it into his back.

Then he turns around.

My eyes go wide and I stagger backwards as he reaches for me, but something shoots through the bars and wraps around his throat. Stunned and gaping, I realize it’s one of Portia’s tentacles, tightening at his neck as he gropes at her in a feeble attempt to escape. She catches my eye from inside the cell, her eyes narrowed in concentration.

“Hurry!” she hisses.

For a second, I thought she was going to handle it for me. But this isn’t over.

I don’t let myself think about it and run forward, shoving the dagger into the guard’s gut. He’s nearly unconscious from Portia’s hold, but as his viscous blue blood spills on the floor between us he stops struggling, his black eyes go vacant and slide shut.

She lets him fall to the ground, releasing him and cracking her neck.

“Glad you made it,” she says with a tired smile, “Now get the key.”

I look back at where she gestures to see a disc like the one in my pocket, albeit with a different symbol on its surface. I rush to grab it and return to Portia, extending it toward the door and turning it against where the knob would be.

It seems ridiculous that it would be that simple, but it works, the door sliding up to release her. Portia steps across the threshold to grasp me by the shoulder.

“Nice work,” she says, “Now — can I have that back?”

I look down and realize she’s talking about the cloak. I undo the brooch and pass it over to her, and she folds it around her like a shroud.

“Portia! What’s going on!”

Calder.

I run down the corridor, finally coming to his door. Calder is at the bars, gripping them tightly, a little worn around the edges but otherwise unharmed. I turn the key, anxious to hold him, relieved that he’s alright.

The door slides open and I leap into his arms.

He peppers kisses across my face and neck and I hold onto him like I didn’t just see him a few hours ago. It feels like decades separate us from when I escaped, and I cling to him like he’ll vanish if I let go.

Calder eventually puts me down, running his hands over me. His eyes land on the blood splashed across my chest and he frowns.

“Are you hurt?” he rumbles.

I shake my head, biting back tears.

“Lucien…” I start, “He came to let us through the gate, but he didn’t make it.”

Calder clenches his fist, averting his eyes.

“I’ll make them pay,” he growls.

“You’re going to need this.”

We both look to the side to see Portia at a weapons rack, Calder’s axe in her hand. She tosses it over and he grabs it in mid-air like it weighs nothing, his expression grim. Portia picks up a sword from in front of her and grabs another off the guard, spinning the two blades experimentally.

All three of us jerk our heads up toward the stairs when a loud bang sounds from the main floor, the force so great that dust falls from the ceiling. Portia pulls her hood over her head and abruptly vanishes, her voice drifting eerily across the space.

“I think we’re needed upstairs,” she murmurs, and I just barely see a glint of blue eyes and a toothy white smile.

Calder nods, gripping his axe in his hand.

“Let’s go.”