“It is curious.” Benedict rolled his shoulders again, trying to work out the tension shooting up his neck.
“Are we going to do this or not?” Ariadne—looking like his father—rested her hand on the sword at her side. Given that her flinty expression appeared rather similar to his father’s dour, disapproving frown, she wouldn’t have to do much in the way of acting.
“Right. Of course. Let’s go.” Benedict drew in a deep breath. Think arrogant, evil thoughts. He strode around the tree, his head high, his shoulders back. He tried to twist his mouth into that egotistically charming smile that had grated against his spine when he’d been held prisoner here.
While he didn’t turn, he heard Beatrice and Ariadne follow, their footsteps only faint scuffs against the thick mossy ground. The footsteps grew noisier as they strode onto the graveled path between the roses.
He was Claudius. He belonged here. No one would dare question his presence.
At the door, he didn’t knock. Knocking indicated that he believed he needed permission to enter.
Instead, he flung the door open and strode inside.
“S-sir!” Two fae males dressed in black came to attention. “We weren’t expecting?—”
“Of course you weren’t expecting me.” Benedict tried to growl with Claudius’s annoyed dismissiveness. “I wish to inspect the dungeon one more time. Nothing can go wrong today.”
The fae males exchanged a look. “You inspected everything last night.”
“Then I will inspect everything again!” Benedict would have shoved past them, but he didn’t dare get close enough where he might accidentally brush one of them.
“Yes, of course, sir.” The fae males stepped aside.
Benedict strode past them, trying not to cringe away from them. Beatrice’s and Ariadne’s footsteps rang behind him as they followed.
He led the way through the halls toward to the stone stairs that led downward. As he descended the stairs, he struggled to keep his breathing even, his hands from trembling. When he opened the door at the bottom, he stepped into the small room.
Two more fae males guarded the door on the far side, the one that led through a rip in the barrier between the realms to the pocket of the Realm of Monsters.
Facing that door and those guards, it was all Benedict could do to keep a hold of his stomach and his arrogant stance. He couldn’t break. Not now. Not until he returned to the Court of Knowledge with the rescued members of his Court.
Beatrice stoodbehind Benedict with her shoulders thrown back, her hands at her side.
Stand like a man. Walk like a man. Sneer like a haughty man.
At least she didn’t have to talk like a man. Since Benedict was pretending to be Claudius, he was the one who did all the talking.
Within a few minutes, Benedict had talked their way past the second set of guards. Because she knew him so well, she saw the slight lift and fall of his shoulders before he opened the door and stepped into the black, gaping hole on the other side.
Beatrice swallowed and hesitated for a moment. She’d never stepped through a tear into the Realm of Monsters before, though she’d heard it was painful.
Ariadne gave her a subtle nudge to her back, and Beatrice jumped forward. Before she could give herself any more time to contemplate it, she dove into the blackness.
For a moment, her world turned inside out with an accompanying shredding pain.
Then she tottered out the other side into a gloomy stone passageway, lit only by the occasional smoking torch. A few of the torches had gone out, leaving only the choking stench of burned tar in the air.
Benedict stood in the passage a few feet ahead of her, his feet seemingly rooted to the spot. Thanks to the glamour, she couldn’t see if his face had paled, but his eyes were wide.
She rested a hand on his arm, and his false face disappeared, leaving his pale features visible. “Take a moment and just breathe.”
Benedict nodded and drew in a shuddering breath.
Beatrice waited another moment before she dropped her hand. Ariadne had already dropped her glamour, pushed past the two of them, and was partway down the passageway. She lifted the large locking bar from the brackets, unlocking the nearest door.
She glanced back toward Beatrice. “Grab the keys.”
Beatrice cast about, but there weren’t any keys conveniently hanging on a peg by the door. “There aren’t any.”
