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I shifted uncomfortably at the devastating surety in his words. I’d never asked for any of this. I didn’t want to add someone’s utter faith to the weight already on my shoulders.
Not when the prospect of failure was already heavy enough.
I shook my head. “The world’s too big for me to change. I’d be happy for some peace.”
10
RAZIEL
Dane and Tavion led us to the tunnel entrance, only a few miles away from the Montgomerys’ castle.
But I kept my eyes on Anaria. She’d emerged from the castle looking like she meant to tear the world a new arsehole.
Or burst into tears.
The next second, she hid the twist of agony behind the careful mask she wore to keep the world at bay and anger ground inside me like broken glass.
I hated that she thought she had to hide her feelings from me.
One day, I hoped she trusted me enough not to.
The tunnel’s wide entrance was cut into the face of the granite, an arch covered by a millennium of moss and lichens. Thick, but not so thick that I couldn’t make out the writing around the opening.
The language of the Old Gods.
Ruts from a thousand wagon wheels led into the darkness, the ground compacted from years of constant traffic.
“Grab a torch.” Dane nodded to the pile stacked neatly against the rocks. “It’s dark as fuck down there, but it’s only for two days. We’ll reach Tempeste before nightfall tomorrow.”
“Well, this looks promising,” Tristan muttered, sharing an uneasy look with me. “Nothing to worry about in a dark, endless cave. I’m sure this will be fine.”
From my years as the Shadow King’s general, I knew Solarys and Caladrian geography like the back of my hand, and there was no secret tunnel in the world that would cut our journey in half…yet both Tavion and Dane insisted this was possible.
“Two days underground?” Anaria whispered, eyeing the impenetrable blackness looming inside the vine-covered opening. “Are you sure about this, Raz?”
“We’ll be safe enough. Stick between Tristan and me.” I winced as I lit a pitch torch, the fire flaring hot enough to peel the skin from my face. “Stay close and don’t stray outside the light until we know what we’re walking into.”
If I had my magic and not this fucking collar around my neck, I’d be a lot surer about this decision, but I doubted Lucius or Dane would put Tavion in danger, who was already disappearing into the shadows, his torch illuminating smooth, carved-out walls, the floor marked by hundreds of hoofprints and wagon wheel tracks.
If this was how goods were smuggled in and out of Caladrius, then this way should be safe enough.
But we were over a hundred miles from Tempeste, a four-day ride under normal conditions. I didn’t know what Dane’s secret was, but the thick smell of ozone drifted out of the mouth of the tunnel, so magic was involved.
Ancient magic, by the smell.
The revelation didn’t make me feel any better.
I urged my horse forward, closely monitoring Anaria’s mount. We’d given her the gentlest gelding, but the brute was a far cry from her little mare. He snorted when she dug her heels into his side, shifting the pack slung over the back of her saddle.
Tristan lunged forward and caught the reins. “A horse will sense your nervousness,” he counseled gently. “He’s only skittish because of the dark. Let me lead him for you until he gets used to the tunnel.”
I nodded gratefully because I saw this for what it was.
His apology for last night.
Anaria frowned, but as far as I was concerned, Tristan was already forgiven. He was a product of his shite upbringing, and some prejudices took a long time to shake. His aristocratic, blue-blooded father saw to that.
With a whip and his fists.
