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My blood runs ice cold.
“What?” Nor roars, causing goosebumps to rise on my arms. He leaps to his feet, making the servant flinch, and I jump up after him. “Why the dungeon?”
My thoughts are fuzzy, and blood pounds in my ears. I stagger, suddenly unsteady, and reach for Nor’s arm for support.
“I don’t know,” the servant pipes. “I wasn’t told anything else. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I assure him as I attempt to collect myself, to slow my heart that’s trying to beat out of my chest.
Being frazzled in front of King Rukkus isn’t what I want, despite being terrified. I want to be poised, collected, put together. I don’t need to give him any more reasons to dislike me.
“I’m going with you,” Nor says flatly.
As if I would argue with him.
The thought of having his company makes the idea of facing his father a little less intimidating, and if Iamin some sort of trouble, maybe Nor can talk him out of it.
My palms are sweating profusely when I nod. “Let’s not keep him waiting.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
Irissa
The trip through the castle and down a wide set of stone steps to the dungeon is a blur. I’m vaguely aware of Nor at my side as we follow along behind the servant, but my thoughts are more occupied by what awaits me. The pounding of blood in my ears and the steady bang of my heart against my ribs don’t help my spiraling thoughts, and I try to steady my erratic breaths.
After the poisoning incident, this is easily the most terrifying thing that’s ever happened to me.
“Don’t worry,” Nor attempts to console me. “Nothing is going to happen to you.”
“How do you know?” I groan. “Why else would he want me to meet him in the dungeon?”
Surely, it’s to throw me in a cell. I can’t logically think of another explanation.
“I won’t pretend to know why,” he admits. “But I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. Trust me.”
There’s the issue of trust again, and my knee-jerk reaction is to be leery of him. He hasn’t given me an outright reason not to trust him, but his constant wishy-washiness leaves something to be desired in the trust department. If he were more upfront about his thoughts and feelings, I might be inclined to change my mind, but the way we can be fine one day and then hardly speak isn’t comforting.
I nod nonetheless.
As we descend the stone stairs, the temperature drops several degrees and goosebumps rise on my arms. We pass through two sets of barred doors, both guarded by a set of minotaurs in armor, before emerging into the heart of the dungeon.
Cells line both sides of a long hallway, all closed off with metal bars. To my surprise, and horror, a few of the cells are already occupied, and curious eyes peer out at me as we pass by. Instinctively, I move closer to Nor, even though I know these prisoners can’t hurt me. Just their presence is enough to turn my insides to ice.
Peering further into the dungeon, I see a cluster of forms standing around a few cells, but the dim light provided by the lanterns doesn’t give me a clear view until we get closer. King Rukkus stands in the middle of the group, the tips of his crown clearly visible over the other heads, several guards surrounding him. There is no sign of the queen or any other royal family members.
The guards part, positioning themselves on either side so that we may address the king, and my heart nearly stops with my feet as we halt before him.
“Your Highness,” I say with an unsteady curtsy. His face is contorted into his typical look of disdain, which makes my chest tight. “You summoned me?”
“I did, Princess Irissa.” He nods once. If I thought hearing Nor say my name was astounding, it’s nothing compared to the way it sounds in King Rukkus’s voice. I instantly feel like a child about to be scolded. I just wish I knew what for. “These men say they know you. Could you please verify that claim before we pass judgement on their transgressions?”
He points to the cell on my left, and I hold my breath as my gaze automatically follows his gesture. Beyond the rusted bars sealing the cell, two human bodies are slumped against the far wall. It’s clear from the bloodstains on their clothes that they’re injured, and nausea rolls in my stomach as I take a step closer.
They’re dressed in the traditional soldier outfits of Hyatt, aside from their weapons and armor. The man on the left is clearly unconscious, his eyes closed and his chest moving steadily. He has short blonde hair, but I don’t recognize him immediately.
I look to the man on the right, who stirs slightly. There’s a significant gash above one of his eyebrows, dripping blood down the side of his face, and more blood is matted in his bright red hair.
The floor sways beneath me and I grab the bars of the cell door to keep from sinking to my knees.
