Relief washed over her, along with a flicker of hope.
Borthwick’s next words tainted the feeling with unease.
“Mr.Singh Rao—I believe it might be prudent for Mr.Bates to have an escort for the remainder of our journey.”
The officer answered with a note of hesitation.“Sir?
“The ground ahead is likely to be treacherous,” Borthwick elaborated.
The response was tactful, but Constance had no doubt about his meaning.Adam’s actions in the well had crossed the line into rousing Borthwick’s suspicions.
He had just been put under guard—which admittedly made her situation a touch more complicated.
The stern Indian officer called out an order, and the crunch of boots on stone signaled that the soldiers were moving away.Still, she kept her hand on Neil’s arm, warning him to silence.She kept it there until long after the last footsteps had faded.
Then she sprang into action.“Where’s your sword?We need light to figure out how to dig our way out of here!”
Neil felt his way along the floor, and a moment later, flames bloomed up Dyrnwyn’s iron blade.
The room came to life—and Constance found herself staring at a massive slab of stone.
It was the floor of the upper gallery.The entire piece had hinged down to slam across the door to their chamber.
Constance’s twinge of unease grew deeper as she faced it.
Neil looked queasy.“How are we supposed to dig through that?”
Constance smothered her growing fear with a forceful optimism.“Adam must have seen that this was here.He’ll know to bring the necessary tools to break it up with him when they come back for us.Or perhaps Ellie can move it with a small explosion.”
“When they come back for us,” Neil echoed dully, staring at the rock.
“They’ll find a way to get free of Borthwick,” Constance insisted, willing herself to believe it.“We’re perfectly fine in here in the meantime.There’s air getting inside, and we’re hardly going to starve in a day or two.”
“We would die of dehydration before we starved.”Neil let out a tight, nervous laugh.“I might die of dehydration inside a Somavamshi stepwell.”
Alarm thrilled through Constance at his words.“There is really no reason to panic.”
“Why would I be panicking?”Neil began to pace the narrow confines of the room, Dyrnwyn flaming in his hand.“We’re only trapped inside a thousand-year-old closet waiting for our currently imprisoned friends to dig us out.What could possibly go wrong in that scenario?”
His voice hitched up at the end of the words as his breathing went tight.
Constance put her hands on his shoulders and pushed.“Sit.Now.And put your head between your knees.”
Neil dropped to the ground and obeyed, still holding the sword awkwardly in front of him.He drew in a few shaking, uneven breaths.
Constance patted his back reassuringly.“We’re going to be just fine.Your sister and your best friend are not going to leave us here, and they are both exceptionally resourceful people.”
Neil lifted his head and ran a shaky hand through his disheveled, dust-streaked hair.“You’re right.Of course, you’re right.”
“We just need to find a way to pass the time that doesn’t involve contemplating our possible slow and painful deaths,” Constance asserted.
Neil went a bit green.“Like what?”
Constance suddenly found herself more aware of everything around her—the light pall of dust on her skin.The cool stillness of the stone-scented air.The way Dyrnwyn’s pale light flickered across the carvings that covered the walls.
“Now that you mention it, I might have an idea,” she mused.
“Oh?”Neil pressed hopefully.
