Havenfall (Havenfall #1)(81)

“You still love him,” the Prince observes.

There’s no warmth in his voice, no emotion at all, just a detached, almost academic curiosity. There’s none of the compassion he showed me when we spoke at Marcus’s bedside. Or the closeness—or was it flirting?—in the observatory. This is the Silver Prince from the books in the library. And something comes back to me, distant and quiet, but carried on the currents of adrenaline from this morning’s murder attempt. He told me that not everyone has good intentions.

Eerie calm descends over me. I have to lie.

“I didn’t know he was coming back,” I say.

“It looks like you were glad to see him.”

“Good thing I held him here for you,” I retort, refusing to give him an inch.

There’s the note of a challenge there, but the Silver Prince doesn’t call me on it. Just smiles, faintly.

“Perhaps you’re developing better judgment, then. I wondered, when I saw that staffer flee. Taya?”

Cold seizes my heart, and I flinch before I can stop myself. “What does she have to do with anything?”

Is he angry I didn’t dose Taya with forgetting-wine? How does he even know her name?

“She is a liar,” the Prince says with an icy smile. “Call it an intuition. Rule long enough, and you’ll understand. You’re young—it’s all right to have trusted wrong.”

Cold spills through my veins. But now it’s there because I want it to be. Protective, powerful, like a Fiordenkill wind that drives enemies away.

“You’re right,” I say, holding his gaze. “I trusted wrong this whole time.”





23

After the Silver Prince leaves me alone, I head straight down to the tunnels.

When I reach the juncture, four Byrnisian guards are already there, Sal’s human crew gone. One Byrnisian is stationed in front of each of the three tunnel mouths to Fiordenkill, Byrn, and Solaria, and one stands in front of the tunnel to Tiria, a dead world, where the Prince must be keeping Brekken and the Solarian beast.

I don’t recognize the guards from the summit, but everything about them says professional. They hold metallic staffs with sharp ends, and they look at me when I enter. Behind three of them—the tunnels to Fiordenkill, Solaria, and Tiria—a dull steel web stretches over the tunnel mouth, blocking the way. The Prince might not be able to close the door to Fiordenkill, but he can stop anyone from coming or going.

Anxiety makes sweat prickle my palms, but I stand straight, trying to sound calm and authoritative as I address the man guarding the opening of the Tiria tunnel.

“I’m Madeline Morrow. The Innkeeper. Here to see the Fiorden prisoner.”

The guard is a tall man with white hair and a greenish cast to his skin. He steps forward and regards me skeptically. His staff glitters in the low light as he leans down, and I can’t help but tense, the memory jumping into my head of the Byrnisian man in the antique shop, the wind magic that whipped up out of nowhere and flung me against the wall.

I can feel the magic coming from the guard now, as well as from the other guards at my back, which is strange because before this summer, magic never felt dangerous. But I raise my head so the guard can see my face. I try not to let my worry show, though I’m nothing but fear inside.

For Marcus. Havenfall. The Solarian girl, Sura. Taya. Brekken.

He examines me for a moment, and then stands back wordlessly. He lifts the staff an inch and taps it against the stone floor, and the metal barricade blocking the Tiria tunnel mouth starts to retract, the strands of iron snaking back into the stone.

The part of my mind that’s still me, that’s not numb with shock and fear, wonders how that works. Do the Byrnisians control the metal in the mountain too?

The glitter of a key ring on the guard’s belt catches my eye. I’ll need his keys to break Brekken out.

“Will you walk down the tunnel with me?” I ask the guard. I don’t really have to fake the tremor in my voice.

The guard’s jaw tightens in exasperation, but he nods and walks beside me into the dark tunnel. Staying half a step behind him, I reach surreptitiously into my pocket until my fingers find the enchanted spoon. When I was drowning, calling on the magic felt instinctive, but now I have to concentrate to call up the wind magic the little girl captured and channeled into the spoon. I will a wind to start up, and a short, strong gust sweeps up the other end of the tunnel.

The guard tenses and he steps forward, his hand going to the sword at his left hip. It’s my chance. I already have my dagger in hand, and I reach out with it, cutting the leather cord that secures his keys to his belt and grabbing them when they fall before they can make a sound.

For a split second, just a moment, I feel a rush of power. We come into sight of the bend in the tunnel, and I touch the guard on the arm. “Thank you. I can take it from here.”

I clench my left fist tight, hiding the stolen keys. How long do I have before he notices?

The guard appraises me. “All right. Careful—the Solarian’s cell is down here, too. You’ll have to pass it first.”

Alone, I walk into darkness. The metal grate reappears behind me, locking me in. There are no torches, and it’s becoming harder and harder to see with every step. The temperature drops, too, and I shiver, my clothes clinging to my damp skin.

Up ahead, everything is quiet. Is Brekken really down here?