The Faerie Queen (The Faerie Ring #4) (17 page)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“
He’s got to be close enough that one of his doves can fly into the Great Hall.” Larkin began to pace, a trait that somehow made Fachtna look familiar to Tiki. “Think, Dain.  Where could Donegal have access to a cave beneath the palace?”

“
From the Night Garden?” Dain didn’t sound convinced of his own suggestion.

“
If the stories we’ve heard are true, then Donegal arrested him in the Great Hall—” Rieker started.

“
And had Sullivan and Cruinn take him somewhere,” Larkin finished. “They couldn’t have taken him too far without making a huge scene. Sullivan and Cruinn are part of Donegal’s inner circle—they probably know the palace as well as the Winter King does.”

Dain snapped his fingers.
“As did Bearach.”

Larkin stopped pacing
. “Bearach? What has he got to do with it? He’s dead.”

“
Yes, but he was my…keeper after Donegal arrested me for being a spy. I’ve tried to block my memories of that time but Bearach was the one who beat me—and took pleasure in doing it.” Dain’s voice was low, his eyes dark with painful memories. “He liked to threaten me too. He often spoke of a ‘dungeon’—a place where he would leave me to starve to death alone in the dark.”

Tiki put her arm on Dain’s rough sleeve.
“I’m so sorry. That must have been awful.”

Rieker
gripped his brother’s shoulders and squeezed.

“
And?” Larkin snapped. “What of this dungeon? Did he say where it was? Did you see it?”

Dain slid his hand over Tiki’s, his fingers surprisingly warm
and gave her a black-toothed smile that looked more like a leer with his glamour. “I didn’t see it but I think I know where it is.”

“
Where?” The question echoed in the wintery air.

“
The Queen’s rooms.”

“
The Royal chambers?” Larkin asked.

“
Bearach made several comments that led me to believe this place he was threatening me with was close to where Donegal stayed in the palace. He said only the Winter King would know where I was and Bearach assured me over and over that he would never save me.”

Larkin began to pace again.
“But where in the royal chambers could there be access to a cave? Do you suppose the entrance is hidden somehow?” She was mumbling to herself more than talking. “Perhaps behind a bookcase or wall panel?  If that’s the case we may never find it….”

“
Remember,” Rieker said, “it has to have an opening for the doves to get through.”

“
Good point.” Larkin turned and began to pace the other way. “How big of an opening…”

Tiki closed her eyes and envisioned the opulent royal chambers where the ruler of Faerie lived during their reign. There were four chambers: the sitting room, a place for the ru
ler to rest in privacy; the drawing room, where they met with their followers; and two rooms in the bedchambers. Where and how anyone could have created or found access to a cave with an opening into one of the room wasn’t obvious. She mentally started at the grand entrance to the chambers and walked through each of the rooms…her eyes flew open.

“
The fireplace in the sitting room.  It’s tall enough for a man to walk into without bowing his head. There must be access through the fireplace.”

“
That is brilliant, Teek,” Rieker said, “and makes perfect sense.  It’s not a place where an opening would be obvious.”

Larkin nodded.
“It’s worth checking.”

FACHTNA MARCHED TOWARD the Royal Chambers as if she owned the palace. Her three servants hurried behind, shoulders hunched and eyes lowered as if they feared she might turn and strike. The guard in front of the bedchamber doors straightened when he saw the witch and her retinue approach. He lowered his speared staff to block their way, his impassive face giving away no emotion. His voice was like gravel crunching underfoot.

“
There is no entry allowed here.” His gaze shifted from Fachtna to measure the three young men behind her when Larkin struck.  Her branch-like fingers were just a blur as she stabbed at the guard’s throat.  Blood spurted from his neck as his eyes bulged in surprise.  A terrible gurgling erupted as he tried to breathe, blood-tinged foam gathering at the corners of his mouth as he sagged to the floor.

Dain jumped around the twitching body and opened the door, peering around the room.

“Clear in here,” he whispered as he grabbed the guard by the shoulders. Rieker clutched the dead man’s feet and together they hauled him through the doorway. Larkin shoved Tiki into the room, then used the hem of her long dress to wipe the floor clean.  She glanced over her shoulder to check the hallway, then slipped into the Royal Chambers and quietly locked the door.

“
Put him over there—” she pointed to a corner— “and bring his spear. I’ll check the other rooms and see if there are any more.”  They spread out and quickly searched the four chambers but they were vacant. Larkin held a finger to her mouth as they gathered in front of the fireplace in the sitting room. She spoke in a whisper.  “If this is the entrance to the prison, you can be sure that Donegal will have Fial guarded. It’s probably a stairwell that leads to a cell—one way in and one way out.” Her gaze went around the circle. “Which means there’s only one way to save him.”

A cold chill ran down Tiki’s arms as Dain and Rieker nodded, their expressions equally determined.

Larkin held up the razor-sharp blade she had used to kill the guard. “What other weapons do we have?” One by one they pulled knives and daggers from hidden locations inside their garments.  Dain lifted a whip with one hand.

“
It will have to do,” she said. “I’m a fair hand at throwing knives. Dain, be at the ready with your whip. You two—” she pointed at Tiki and Rieker— “Prepare yourselves. We can’t have a moment of hesitation.”

One by one they nodded.

“Good.” She turned toward the fireplace. “Let’s see what we can find.”

Dain lifted the metal grate that held the skeletal remains of burnt wood and quietly moved it to one side as Larkin entered the massive fireplace. She ran her fingers along the soot-blackened walls, feeling, as well as looking, for an opening.

It only took a few moments to find the hole, tucked back behind the front column of stones, invisible to someone standing in the room.
Larkin raised her hand for silence as she disappeared through the rocky opening.

Tiki bit the corner of her lip as she struggled
to keep her breathing even. She tightened her grip on the knife as if that might still the shaking of her fingers. The blackness of the tunnel was complete and she slid one hand along the rough wall to keep her balance as she blindly followed Larkin, Dain and Rieker down the crude stone steps.

T
hey cautiously wound their way downward. As they went lower into the mountain of rock a feeble strand of watery light from some point below became visible—enough to pierce the darkness that smothered them.

They went down and down, the air becoming cooler with each step. Someone’s foot kicked a loose pebble and the sound of the stone
ricocheting against the rock seemed to echo like cannon fire. Larkin stopped abruptly and Tiki held her breath, straining to hear any movement from below.

After what felt like an eternity Larkin began her slow descent again.

The guard came boiling around a bend in the narrow passageway toward them like a wraith from a graveyard. Tiki screamed as the huge man lunged toward Larkin, the longsword in his hand pointed straight at her heart.

Larkin sp
un away as the blade ripped through her garments. The guard jerked his arm back in preparation to strike again. Rieker and Dain both dove toward the man. The guard’s neck suddenly jerked to one side, the gruesome sound of snapping bone audible in the dark hallway. The noise was mixed with a guttural cry of pain—the last sound the man would ever make. The angle of the man’s neck as he slumped to the ground made it evident he was no longer a threat.

“
Leave him,” Larkin whispered as she continued down the steps.

“
Who goes there?”

Larkin jerked to
a stop and held her hand up in a signal to halt. She put a finger to her lips as she eased, ever so slowly, down the next few stairs. Not far ahead there was a sharp turn and she squatted down very low before she peered around the corner. Behind her, Rieker clutched the spear he’d taken from the fallen guard, the iron-tipped blade at the ready. Dain held two daggers in one hand and his whip in the other. His jaw was set in a grim expression of determination.

“
Declare yourself!” The voice was rough but there was an undercurrent of uncertainty evident in his words.

Without turning, Larkin held up one finger—to indicate one g
uard. The faerie pointed to the right, then fanned two fingers toward the left. Rieker and Dain seemed to understand her sign language without any problem and moved to the left of her.

At Larkin’s signal they both jumped down the remaining stairs and disappeared around the corner, yelling as they went. A split-second later, Larkin disappeared too. 
Tiki hurried down the steps and around the corner, her knife clutched in her hand, afraid to go with them and afraid to be left behind.

The guard charged
Rieker and Dain, his spear lowered with deadly intent. Too late, he realized there was a third threat coming at him from a different angle. He whirled to face Larkin and was skewered by three blades. The recognition of what had happened lit his face, only to fade and disappear like a snuffed candle. He’d barely hit the floor before Rieker, Dain and Larkin pulled their blades free. Blood spurted from his multiple wounds and began to gather around the man’s body.

“
Are you all right?”  Rieker moved next to Tiki, his tall frame blocking the view of the dead man, his long fingers on her shoulder.

“
Yes.” Tiki swallowed, hoping to settle her queasy stomach. “I’ve seen as bad on the streets of London.” Fights weren’t uncommon, especially among the thieves who populated London’s underbelly. More than once she’d seen a knife fight end up with one of the participants dead. The image of MacGregor flickered before her eyes. A meaty fellow with shoulders like a bull under his worn jacket, she had always suspected the man had beaten Fiona’s mother to death. Tiki had seen him lay his hand to many of the women who worked as seamstresses for him, which oftentimes was worse than a knife fight.

“
Fial!”  Larkin stood on tiptoes, peering through a small barred window in a stout wooden door. They hurried over to her.

“
Is he in there?”

“
Yes. I can see him in the corner.” She grabbed the dark handle and tugged on the door, but it was locked. She whirled and hurried to where the guard lay in a pool of blood.  Larkin didn’t flinch as she patted the man’s jacket, her fingers turning bloody as she searched for the keys to open the door.

It only took a moment before she pulled a ring with a large key from the man’s belt, the metal jangling with the movement. She hurried back to t
he door and slid the jagged teeth of the key into the keyhole. There was a loud
thunk
as the metal bolt relaxed its grip and Larkin pushed the door open, the hinges creaking in protest. She hurried to the Jester’s side where he lay crumpled on the floor.

Tiki took a deep
breath and followed the others into the cell. She couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder to make sure no one was hiding, waiting to slam the door shut and lock them in this dungeon for all eternity.

“
Fial.” Larkin leaned over and put her lips close to the man’s ear.  She shook his arm. “Fial—can you hear me?”

There was no response from the battered body.

Tiki leaned over Larkin’s shoulder to get a better look at the Jester and a cold chill filled her. His face was bruised and bloody, both eyes swollen shut. What makeup he’d worn had long ago been rubbed or beaten off. Blood had run from his nose and mouth and dried in a thin crust, encircling his lips and leaving trails from both nostrils—as if he wore ghastly make-up for some kind of mad masquerade.