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“That’s hardly the entire explanation,” he said. “There was a deal involved, which means I get something too—and so do you. I’m not the sacrificial type now, am I?”
That was unfortunately quite true, and perhaps the reason his confession had rocked me to my core. There had to be an explanation for what he’d done, something I didn’t understand.
“What did Cael offer you?” I asked.
“You’ll see.” My father smiled at me as if I were a child about to receive a present and only he knew what was inside.
“Something he won’t follow through on, I presume?” I asked.
“I’ve followed through on every deal I’ve ever made,” said Cael. “Unless someone tries to double-cross me and I don’t get what was agreed upon, my word is ironclad.” His words were pointed, a clear chastisement against my actions at the shore.
Graham peered at me, his brow furrowed in concern, looking as apprehensive as I felt.
“Remove our handcuffs,” I said. “If you want us to listen and trust you, show us that we’re safe.”
“The cuffs stay,” said Cael. “Otherwise, you’re guaranteed to do something foolish.”
“What do you intend to do with us, Cael?” Graham asked.
“With you?” Cael studied him with a pensive look on his face. “You’re no longer king material, but I’m not sure what you’re good for yet.”
“Then why did you take us down here?” I asked.
He and my father met eyes, exchanging a silent understanding. Cael nodded and walked to the center of the room. He took his gold quill from his pocket, twisting it in his fingers as he examined it. Then, strangely, he knelt on the floor and pointed it toward the marble floor. But, instead of writing, he set the quill point into a tiny hole in the very center of the slab.
“Penna est potentior gladio,” he said loudly, his voice echoing through the room, somehow chilling me, even considering the non-violent translation.
A click, like a lock being unsprung, but much louder, followed his words.
I pulled in a breath. I think I knew where he was taking us.
“Come,” he said, gesturing us over to where he stood.
Out of sheer curiosity, I listened, as did my father.
“Where are you taking her?” Graham started forward, but my father held up a hand.
“No,” he said. “Youaren’t coming.”
“It’s his choice,” I argued, wondering how he could purport to have any authority over Graham.
The floor rumbled, shifting perceptively, then began to lower.
My heart pounded as I widened my stance to keep my balance on the moving floor, my cuffed hands making me less steady than I would’ve been.
I looked up at Graham, not sure whether I should ask him to come or to stay. I couldn’t trust that we’d be safe, but the drive to see the exact place I’d been striving to find pushed me to take my chances.
The floor slid down several inches, rumbling with a mechanical screech of stone on steel.
My father reached out a hand and put it on my shoulder, the weight heavy, throwing off my balance even more. What he must’ve thought was helpful only felt like a burden.
Graham inched closer to the descending slab, apparently intent on not being left behind—or not leavingmebehind.
“Graham, don’t! You’ll be safer here,” I said. Selfishly I wanted him to come with us, but I also thought he’d be better off away from Cael—and my father.
“No,” he said, his pace quickening. “None of you get to decide for me.”
By then, the large marble slab we stood on had lowered by a few feet, and it only continued to drop.
