We didn’t say much as we traversed the spiraling levels of the Crystal Mines, and I took a sick satisfaction watching the prisoners exact their revenge on their captors. Some took their pound of flesh. Others carved their names into the torsos of their torturers, ignorant of their broken pleas for mercy. We even passed a group of nearly twenty men who had their dicks in hand while a guard known for his particularly nasty proclivities was pinned to the floor by four prisoners, his ass exposed and in the air as a prisoner pounded into him.
The sounds of terror and the screams of agony and death coalesced together into a beautiful cacophony—the sound of retribution.
I cracked my first smile in months as we continued our ascent. The man turned once as we climbed yet another staircase—nearly at the top of the mines now—and returned my feral grin.
As we crested the second then first level of the mines, beautiful unrestrained sunshine filtered through the door to the mines. Its glare was harsh and nearly unbearable after being trapped in the dark underbelly for so many months, but I refused to cower, refused to close my eyes. I wanted to remember every second of this moment.
Prisoners streamed past us as they sprinted to the exit, never pausing in their pursuit of freedom. My own pace quickened as the sunlit door grew larger, my freedom and escape imminent.
As we crossed the threshold of the mines, sweet, cool, snow-tinged air hit my face. The scent of pine lightly twined throughout. I paused, closing my eyes briefly, to suck the air of freedom into my lungs. Unbidden tears welled in my eyes as I took gulping lungfuls. My chest seized, heart pounding, and I felt the distinct warm pulse in my chest.
“You’re safe now,” it seemed to say. “Go. Remember me, but be free.” The warmth in my chest pulsated once more in farewell before fading.
But I found that I didn’t feel alone.
I was rejuvenated, a new sense of purpose filling my being.
A strong hand grasped my bony shoulder, and I peeled my eyes open to regard the man who rescued me. There were tears in his eyes, too, and he let them fall down his cheeks to match my own.
“He’s waiting for you,” the man said and nodded his head a bit to his right. “Go. My purpose is fulfilled. May Fate guide and keep you.”
The strangeness of his statement was forgotten as I heard my name called by a familiar voice. My head instantly snapped to where a tall figure stood, his golden blond hair shining in the afternoon sun, tanned skin chapped from the cold. He wore only a light wool coat over a cream tunic and brown pants, his boots expensive and locked firmly in the stirrups of his saddle. Our gazes locked, and megawatt smile crested over his face as he swung down from his massive horse in a crunch of snow.
He closed the space between us in three long strides, arms open and enveloping me in a hug before I could object.
Torin d’Eshu—leader of the rebellion in the north, my sister’s true fiancé, and my friend—held me tighter than anyonepreviously. He smelled of sunshine and happiness, and as I clung to him in return, I felt the tension release from his body.
He pulled back, holding me at arm’s length, eyes greedily soaking in each of my features.
“Fuck, Peytor. You look like shit,” he rasped, and I barked out a laugh. “Smell like it, too.”
“Well, considering I had to eat it at some points, I’m not surprised,” I admitted lightly, and Torin’s smile dropped.
“I’m so sorry, Peytor. So sorry. After Hestin, I had to regroup in the south. Then the gods showed up and . . . fuck. It’s all just . . . a lot. And Ellowyn”—there was raw pain shining in his eyes—“there is a lot to catch you up on,” he explained as he ran a hand over his face, weariness from the past six months showing in the lines around his eyes and lips.
“Well, it sounds like we both have news for each other, hmm?” I said, patting his cheek lightly once before wrapping my arm around his waist. “I apologize for the smell and general dirt. I would’ve washed if I knew you were coming, but . . .”
Torin rolled his eyes as he pulled me tight to his side.
“Sorry about the delay. We needed to make sure we had the loyalty of a few other key players first. We’ll get you cleaned up when we get back to Lishahl.”
“Lord d’Eshu,” the man called, and Torin paused briefly to regard him over his shoulder. “The mines are cleared.”
Torin nodded once.
“Mount up!” he called, his word obeyed immediately and without question. “Take what freed men and women you can on your horses. We’ll slow our progress to make sure no one is left behind.”
I looked at my friend with a new sense of awe. I’d never seen him command before, but knew he must be respected if the Last Keeper had made him a general of her armies. It showed now.
Before we mounted Torin’s horse, he turned and stretched his free hand out toward the mines. A line of fire unwound from his fingers and snaked inside before it disappeared down into the hole. Torin cut off his magic before pushing me onto his horse and mounting behind me.
Hours later, well into the Runewood, I heard a faintboomand the flapping of birds as they vacated the area. I turned to Torin, a questioning frown on my face, but he only smiled.
“Come now, Peytor. We have your sister to save. And a coup to stage.”
I gave him a feral grin in return.
Fuck yes we did.
