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All the sensations of my home.
Her strength was robbed by grief. If she hadn’t been lying on the floor, she would have collapsed. Curled up there, wrapped around the map of her kingdom, she sobbed. Her body shook with its force.
Then her eyes grew heavy. Soon, she cried herself to sleep, like children do when they’re unhappy.
Please, she thought, don’t let me dream again. And she began to dream.
* * *
Torchlight shimmered off the dank walls as Rowan and Edrick traveled down the winding stairwell in Winslowe Castle. The halls were so slim they were forced to walk single file.
“If the rumors are true, secret passages exist that may never be traversed again. Henry Winslowe IV had them built during his reign in case the royal family ever needed them. He killed the servants who carved out those tunnels… and the knowledge of them died with him. It’s a shame the queen and king didn’t use them a few nights ago,” he finished with a smile.
“The secret passages matter not,” Rowan said, picking up his pace. He took the steps by threes. “The one thing that concerns me resides in these walls.”
“Yes, the food stores,” Edrick said. Rowan nodded grimly.
Rowan and Edrick passed through the bustling kitchens. The scent of broiling meat filled the air as cooks and servants lowered their heads and hastened their work as they moved through. Rowan pushed open a wooden door, sprinting down the narrow staircase and into the larder.
“Tyrant glutton,” Edrick cursed as he and Rowan examined the bounty before them.
He wasn’t wrong.
Row upon row of neatly stacked jars and caskets covered the large basement, each filled with enough provisions to feed several families for seasons. The air was thick with the salty tang of preserved meats and the sweet, musty aroma of grains and legumes.
Rowan gazed upon the rows of cured fish, their flesh glistening in the dim light. They were salted and dried to perfection. Beetroot, cabbage, and onions swam in a vinegar brine.
Cheese blocks, wrapped in cloth, were stacked on the shelves, each one a different age and variety. Young cheeses, tangy with the taste of fresh milk, sat alongside mature cheeses, their flavors deep and complex.
Grains filled large sacks in one corner of the larder. Barley, wheat, and oats.
And honey, the sweetest of all the larder’s treasures, was stored in pottery jars.
Finally, the casks of wine and ale were lined at the back of the larder. He smelled the rich, fruity aroma of the wine and the hoppy scent of the ale.
Rowan clenched his jaw tight and felt his teeth grind together. He tightened his fingers into a ball.
He imagined the people outside the walls struggling to survive on such meager rations. Such a stark contrast between the abundance within the castle and the poverty outside.
“It shan’t go to waste,” he whispered, his gaze tracking across the overstocked shelves. “Every man, woman, and child will have full bellies come morning.”
Edrick silently nodded.
“The princess has not been found,” Rowan finally said in a flat voice, turning to Edrick. It wasn’t a question.
Edrick looked at him stiffly. “One of the villagers took pity on her, I’m sure. But she shan’t stay hidden for long. I’ll lead the search myself.”
“As long as she’s out there, everything we’ve fought for is threatened. We need to find her and keep her under lock and key.”
“Under lock and key?” Edrick scoffed. “No one with the name of Winslowe can live. You know this.” His eyes remained flat and unchanging.
“She’s more valuable to us alive.”
“Not if she brings an army to the castle gates. And not if the people rally behind her. All will be lost. Everything we’ve fought for.”
“What do you know of loss?”
Edrick’s eyes finally shifted. Rowan watched as they darkened, and something ugly reared in their depths. “More than you know.”
