Page 61 of Fated to the Wicked King

Water.

Freezing water was falling all around us.

Shivering, I forced my eyes open. We had fallen into a vast chamber deep within the mountain, cylindrical and cavernous, its walls lined with enormous gears, chained pulleys, and rusting maintenance walkways that spiraled upward into darkness. Narrow catwalks crossed overhead, some broken, some hanging crooked. Pipes thicker than tree trunks ran through the walls; several of them ruptured.

From those ruptures, water thundered down.

Torrents spilled from above, crashing across the floor and pooling around me.

I pushed myself upright with a gasp. “Where are we?”

The king rose beside me, one hand braced against a support beam, blood still darkening his sleeve where the arrow had struck him. “It looks like we’re in an old maintenance lift chamber, likely part of the iron ascents.” He gave my shivering body a critical once-over, his eyes widening for a flash at spotting the still-bleeding cut on my neck. “Are you alright?”

I had worse problems than a minor cut. I could barely feel my fingers and toes. My throat was sore from sucking in cold air. I still nodded, casting a glance around.

Sophie and Gregory were nowhere around.

“Where are⁠—”

The king cut me off. “Focus, Allie. We have minutes.” He glanced at the water spreading around our boots.

The chamber lurched with a groan as another pipe burst overhead. A fresh torrent slammed into the floor, sending an icy spray across us.

Far above, through layers of catwalks and water vapor, movement crossed over an opening.

I looked up. “Hey!” I shouted, nearly stumbling forward. “Down here!”

Faces appeared at a grated overlook—Gregory first, breathless and grim, Sophie beside him, pale with alarm.

“Allie!” She dropped to her knees at the edge.

I let out a breath of relief. They were fine. “We fell through!” I waved my hand. “There has to be a way up—a rope, a ladder, anything.”

Gregory peered into the chamber, assessing collapsed walkways, broken chains, and the floodwater rising around us.

“There is an emergency ascent line.” Sophie pointed to a wheel mechanism. “We can lower it.”

He caught her wrist before she could move. “It’s broken.”

Sophie’s breath rushed out. “What?”

“The structure is unstable.” Gregory’s voice carried flat through the chamber. “If we engage the line, the whole shaft could collapse.”

The sober expression on Gregory’s face had dread gnawing at my insides.

Sophie turned to him. “There must be another way.”

“There isn’t time. I must get you to safety.” Gregory’s gaze was pinned on his sister. “The king has powerful magic. I am sure he can get them out of this. If not, we’ll get back to the castle and call for help.” He cracked his neck, the strain visible. His earnest gaze met mine. “I promise, Allie. I’ll be back with help for you.” His gaze slid toward the king for a moment, as though to emphasize that the help was specifically not for him.

My shudder was involuntary.

I couldn’t even blame Gregory. I was with the most powerful sorcerer tyrant king of Wünder. And clearly, Sophie was Gregory’s highest priority.

I tried not to, but somehow I could also sense a wavering in his conviction. It was very faint, but there. Like a wall coming up. A prickly wave of doubt. That hint of suspicion at the notion of my being ‘other’—from a different world.

His mind wrestled with the notion. Freshly uncertain whether or not the trust he’d decided I had earned was misplaced.

Before I could glean any more insights from his aura, he turned away from view, dragging Sophie along, her forceful protests growing faint as their footsteps receded.