Page 38 of Keldori By Daybreak

“How about you stop lurking in my head and focus on trying to catch your breath?”

“Aw, Blue, are you worried about me?”

“I’m worried about Orla,” I snapped. “If you pass out, I’ll disappear too, and Orla will be left alone to fend for herself.”

“Lady Quill is stronger than you give her credit for.”

I bristled. Orla was wonderful and talented and maybe just a tiny bit of a disaster, but I knew what she was capable of better than Ciarán did.

I didn’t dignify him with a response and instead focused on the way the sky seemed to open up more the farther up the stairs I traveled. Up here, the mountain came to a narrow peak, only about fifty yards in diameter. The prison cells lined the perimeter of the wall, each one made of bars and stone.

“Lord Ferrin.”

I jumped at the voice and turned around to see a guard in simple, leather armor standing near a wall. His bow was sloppy, and askew goggles suggested he may have been sleeping leaned up against the stone.

“Yes, hi.” I returned the bow, though not nearly as deeply, and cleared my throat, still unused to Ferrin’s voice. “I’m, uh, here to…”

I trailed off. I should’ve rehearsed this in my head on my way up, but I’d been too distracted by Ciarán.

“My Lord?” the guard prompted. A green pike made of Skalmagick buzzed in his hand, scoring a mark into the stone where he rested its butt.

“Were you sleeping on the job?” I forced authority into my tone.

The guard’s cheeks reddened. “No, my Lord. You caught me unprepared is all. You haven’t visited the prisoner all week, and it’s late—”

“This late hour is when you should be most alert,” I snarled, “because it’s when our enemies are at their most active.”

“Of course. Sorry, my Lord.” The guard bowed deeper this time.

“Nice work,” Ciarán chuckled.

“It’s fine, um, soldier,” I said, though the guard cocked his head at the title. I cleared my throat again. “The prisoner, though. Where’s…”

I pivoted, taking stock of the twenty or so empty prison cells.

“This way, my Lord.” The guard led me down the walkway, passing empty cells as we went.

“You don’t need to keep saying ‘my Lord’,” I said.

“It’s what you asked us to call you, my Lord.”

“Sure, but using it every time you speak is sort of overkill, don’t you think?”

“I’m not sure you pay us to think.” He hesitated, and his lips twitched then twisted in a wry smile when he omitted his ‘my Lord’.

I tried to make my laugh sound genuine. Ferrin was always laughing. I’d thought that made him kind, but then he’d laughed when he’d been cruel too.

My forced laugh came out too loud, and the guard winced.

“Oh. Sorry.” I cleared my throat again, hoping I came off as casually likable as Ferrin. “And things have been quiet lately?”

“Things are always quiet up here.”

“Oh, I mean in general.”

“Stop making small talk.” Ciarán growled. “Get Iseult, and get out.”

“In general, my Lord?”