Wizard's Masquerade, page 54
“Interesting,” said Finnigan. “And here I thought you were a stickler for the rules.”
“Well, to a degree. The rules are important, and it’s my job to enforce them.” She was tired of having to explain this. “The kingdom would fall apart if people didn’t follow the rules.”
“That’s true,” he mused. “So you’re willing to do a little rule-bending to see Quinn, but you won’t break him out?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting,” he said again. “And…that’s where you draw the line?”
“That’s where I draw the line.”
“I see.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully as he stretched his legs out onto a footstool. “You’re awfully lawful, for someone so young.”
“I’m twenty-two.”
“Yes, you are.”
“You’re older than me, and a spy for the king. So why aren’t you more lawful?”
He seemed taken aback by this. She pushed on before he could reply.
“Society doesn’t exist without rules. If we didn’t have law and order, we’d be no better than the demons. Everything would be chaos. People would loot and pillage, and no one would be safe.”
“Interesting. I never thought of it like that before. The demons don’t seem to like rules much, do they? Always trying to weasel out of their contracts.”
“My point,” she said, “is that we can’t just pick and choose which rules to follow. Order must be maintained to keep innocent people safe.”
Finnigan interlaced his fingers and stretched his arms above his head, looking thoughtful. “That’s all well and good in theory.”
“Only in theory?”
“What about when the rules are wrong? Extremism rarely serves people well.”
She adjusted her position on the seat. “I hardly think serving in the Royal Guard counts as extremism.”
“It depends who’s holding the reins.”
She shot him a quizzical look.
“Leyna, we don’t live in a bubble. Life involves other people, so it’s far better to compromise. You’ll get further ahead that way.”
“I don’t care about getting further ahead,” she muttered. ”I just want things to go back to the way they were.”
“For the record, I would like that as well. And on that note…” he pulled out the jar she’d left on his bed. “I wanted to thank you for your gift. It’s a fine rosin.”
Her eyes widened. “Wh-why did you bring it here? Don’t you want it?”
Finnigan startled at her question, and clutched the jar close. “Not at all! The opposite, in fact. I was rather touched by your gift, and I suppose I did not want to part with it so soon.”
She smiled. “That’s kind of sweet.”
“Ah, yes, well…” He rubbed his neck in a manner so endearing that she was tempted to throw caution to the wind and kiss him.
She shuffled closer. “I hope you will play for me one day,” she murmured.
He leant in. “It would be my pleasure.”
A soft knock came at the door, and she drew back hastily.
“Leyna? It’s time,” called Grace.
She stood and placed Floofy down on the armchair—he did not like the Demon Door, or the dungeon for that matter, and she had no intention of bringing him tonight. “I really need to go now.”
“Yes, of course,” he said, rising. “But perhaps I could come?”
“You want to come with us? Why?”
Finnigan moved with elegance as he approached, the cut of his fine clothes emphasising his long, lean body. Her breathing hitched as he took her hand and kissed her palm, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. His eyes never left hers as he said: “It’s a chance to spend time with you. Isn’t that reason enough?”
It was impossible to say no to those sparkling blue eyes.
Chapter thirty-six
The Dungeon
True to the chamberlain’s word, there were no guards outside the dungeon door, and entering the dungeon felt embarrassingly easy.
“That was easy,” Seth said lightly, as they descended the long series of stone steps. Their blue light orbs were the only source of light. He surprised Leyna by summoning a light orb as well. “Grace taught me,” he explained proudly.
Standing before the Demon Door, however, was daunting. Leyna verbally granted access to Grace, Seth and Finnigan to allow them to pass through the door safely. After declaring the new permissions out loud, the door responded with nothing but silence, its large, human-like eyes fixed on hers, and its smile gleeful.
The Demon Door gave a low chuckle and said: “Please, do come in,” before eagerly opening its wide maw.
That was the easy part. Overcoming their fear of passing through the door was infinitely more difficult. Grace and Seth had never laid eyes on the door before, but had heard enough about it to regard it with caution.
“Are you sure it’s safe?” asked Seth, clutching Grace’s arm.
"Yes," Leyna said, hoping it was true. There was only one way to find out. Even Finnigan seemed apprehensive.
“First time?” she queried.
“As a matter of fact, it is.” He licked his lips. “Are you sure this will work?”
She nodded resolutely, even as she weighed up the foolhardiness of their mission. Risking the prince's life was reckless, and she already regretted agreeing to let him come.
“I’ll go first,” Grace announced, and before Leyna could reply she was stepping through the door. As she lifted her leg over the tall row of teeth, the door remained perfectly still, its wide mouth stretched taut.
Leyna let out a breath once Grace was safely on the other side.
This is insanely stupid. I can’t let Seth pass through the door. Why on earth did I listen to Grace?
She turned to Seth, intending to send him back to his chambers—but before she could say another word, he was already moving towards the Demon Door.
“No!” she cried, but it was too late.
Seth took a running leap and sailed over the jagged lower teeth. The upper row of teeth snagged the woollen cap from his head.
“Seth!” she cried, hands clenched into fists as she watched him land on the other side, stumbling into Grace. “Seth!”
But a moment later, he was hugging Grace, and they were both laughing, visibly relieved. Leyna let out a shaky breath, flexing her fingers to get the blood flow moving. He was safe. Hatless and reckless, but safe.
She gestured at Finnigan. “Now you.”
“Ladies first,” he offered.
She shook her head slowly and smiled. “If you’re nervous, it’s best you don’t go last. Trust me.”
“Very well.” He gave her a swift kiss on the cheek. “Just in case,” he winked.
And then he stepped through the Demon Door.
Nothing happened. She sighed in relief.
Now it was her turn.
“Don’t get any ideas,” she grumbled to the door, trying to mask her fear as she stepped over its teeth, reaching up to snatch the woollen hat as she went. Once she was through safely, she turned back to the door, expecting it to close shut like it normally did.
But strangely, the door remained stretched open, its teeth glistening as if it were waiting for its next prey—as if it was waiting for one more person.
“That’s all of us,” she said to the door.
It remained deathly silent.
“Charming workplace environment,” Finnigan commented, gesturing at the slime-covered walls. “I can see the appeal of leading the Arrest Unit now—did they give you an office down here too?”
“Leyna, are you coming?” called Seth from up ahead.
Exchanging a smile, they hurried to catch up.
“The door wasn’t so bad,” said Seth with bravado.
“No more charging ahead,” she warned, pushing the cap over his head. “Understood?”
Seth bobbed his head.
“Which way to Quinn’s cell?” Grace asked, gazing at the labyrinth beyond. The only source of light was the wall-mounted torches behind on either side of the Demon Door, each burnt fiercely with a green flame.
Leyna sent her light orb to float ahead, the bright blue glow revealing dozens of passageways.
“This way,” she said, leading them down one of the centre ones.
“How can you tell?” asked Finnigan, a trace of awe in his voice. “It’s a maze.”
Not quite like a maze, she thought, remembering the hedge maze at the Guild, which was designed to confuse with its dead ends and random twists and turns.
“It’s more like a labyrinth,” she explained. “The only trick is choosing the right path, but once you know the correct one, it'll lead you to where you need to go.”
“How’s that any different to a maze?” asked Seth.
“Because there’s a logic to it—it’s not trying to trick you into getting lost.”
Leyna could tell that Seth and Grace were sceptical, but she said nothing.
They continued down the passage, the silence punctuated by drips and drops from nondescript nooks and crannies. The eerie light of their orbs made the dank walls even gloomier, and Grace flinched when a strange faraway moan reached their ears, carried by a cold draft.
“Is the dungeon haunted?” asked Seth.
“No,” said Leyna, at the same time that Finnigan said ‘yes’. She gave him a mock-glare as Seth huddled closer.
When they arrived in front of Quinn’s cell door, Grace rushed to the barred window, calling Quinn’s name. At first, there was no response.
And then, hands reached through the bars to touch Grace’s.
“Grace,” Quinn rasped, his face barely visible as he pressed his face against the bars.
“Quinn! Oh, Quinn.”
“How long has it been?”
“Too long,” she said, her voice growing thick as tears rolled down her face. “I’ve missed you so much! I would have come every day, if I could.”
“I’m glad you’re here now, my love.”
It was a bittersweet reunion.
“Leyna, can you open the door?” asked Grace, wiping at her nose.
It jarred her out of her melancholy. “Clan I what?”
“Please…can you open the door? I just want to hold him. I can hardly reach him through these bars. Please.”
Leyna shifted her weight uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, Grace. You know I can’t do that.”
“Oh, but please…” Grace’s voice broke, the sound making Leyna’s heart break with it.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t.” Perhaps, if Grace hadn’t been a wizard, Leyna might have risked it. But she was certain that once that door opened, Grace would not allow Quinn to return to the cell—her conscience would compel her to help him escape, even if it meant fighting Leyna.
Unless…unless Finnigan backs me up.
With Finnigan by her side, she would be more confident that Grace wouldn’t do something stupid, like try to duel her. Quinn would be in no state to fight. Hugging herself, she turned to Finnigan—but he was nowhere to be seen.
“Fin—err, Cornelius?” She stopped herself from saying his real name just in time. She glanced back to where Grace and Seth were huddled around Quinn’s door. They hardly spared her a glance.
She backtracked down the passage. “Cornelius?” she called again. “Where are you?”
There was no answer. She guided the light orb forward. The linear design of the passageway meant Cornelius had either continued deeper into the dungeon or had backtracked the way they had come.
“Cornelius?” she called again, venturing down the passageway. She had hardly gone more than a few steps, however, when Grace called her back.
“Leyna? Quinn is asking for you. And he wants to speak to you alone.” She sniffed as if hurt as she said the last part, and both she and Seth withdrew to give them privacy.
Quinn’s fingers were wrapped around the bars of the window. “Leyna,” he greeted, his dark eyes giving nothing away.
“Quinn, how are you keeping?”
“I’m good.”
The clarity of his voice, while not without its characteristic gruffness, surprised her, as did the rest of his appearance, which looked much improved from the last time she had seen him. From what she could see in the dim light, his face was clean, the bruises had healed, and though the natural hollowness of his cheeks made it hard to gauge, it looked as if he’d been eating proper meals. Even his dark hair looked as if he’d run a comb through it.
“You’re…you’re ‘good’?” she repeated, confused. Prisoners who spent even a day in the dungeon were usually far from ‘good’.
“Well, I think I’m going a little crazy,” he admitted. “I miss the sun. The constant darkness is…suffocating. My father left me a pocket watch, but it’s hard to keep track of the time. Grace says it’s been twelve days…?”
He was asking how long he’d been imprisoned for. Leyna felt ashamed that she did not know. She hadn’t kept track. Had it really been that long?
“Err, near enough,” she said.
Quinn made an affirmative sound and took a step back.
This gave her a chance to survey his cell. She stood on tiptoe to better see through the bars, confused by the orange light emanating from within the cell. She had expected to see complete darkness, illuminated only by her blue orb, so she was taken aback by the waxy candles lining the shelves in the room. There was even a lantern glowing happily.
Furniture. Why is there furniture inside a cell?
There was a small bed with a pillow, a table and chair, a small bookshelf teeming with books, and a washbasin. There was even a row of hooks with clothing hanging from it, and the table bore a platter with what looked like a hunk of cheese and bread, beside which was a jug and an empty glass.
Leyna tried to stand even taller, the tips of her toes protesting as she craned to see the floor of the cell.
Yikes. There was even a large, circular rug and a pair of slippers.
“Comfy?” she asked, scarcely believing her eyes.
“Can’t complain.”
She eased back down on her heels, suddenly tempted to unlock the door and enter the cell, but she didn’t dare risk it; she was nervous enough having her back to Grace as it was. What wouldn’t she do to save Quinn? But glancing back, Grace was standing some distance away with Seth, hugging herself with her head bowed as the prince comforted her.
There was no sign of Finnigan. His absence made her nervous, and she instructed Grace to stay alert before returning her attention to Quinn.
“You’re looking remarkably well,” she noted. “Your father looking after you?”
“Yes. He visits every day. Although, I sometimes wish he would send someone else. He is my father, but still…”
“We’ve been trying to visit you,” she said quickly. “Your father wouldn’t give us permission until now.”
“I know. But she shouldn’t have come.”
She frowned. “But you are happy to see her?”
Quinn looked affronted. “Of course, I love her. But it is not safe for her to be near me.”
“Oh? You’re dangerous, are you? Going to turn into a wolf and start attacking people?”
“No.”
“Because that’s what the rumours are saying.”
“I don’t want to attack anyone.”
“I know.”
“Grace asked me if I killed the queen.”
“But you didn’t,” she finished. Standing here, talking to Quinn, it was obvious: he wasn’t a murderer. He wasn’t a criminal mastermind or a leader of demon armies. As powerful of a wizard as he was, he was not a fighter, not if he could help it. In the Maze Exam, the wolf had run and hid, at least until they were the last ones left. And when he finally had her cornered, and she was weak and exhausted, he had offered her a tie, more interested in ending the fighting than becoming champion. Even then, Quinn was not motivated by winning.
“Beatrice was executed. Did your father tell you that?”
Quinn nodded.
“Before she died,” Leyna continued, “Beatrice told me to speak to you. She seemed to think you had something to do with the queen’s death.”
“I did. I was meant to kill the queen. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.”
“What do you mean, you were meant to kill the queen?”
He shook his head helplessly.
She sighed. “So why not claim innocence?”
He covered his face and half turned away as he spoke.
“I have my reasons.”
Leyna waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. Instead, his sad eyes met hers, as if willing for her to read his mind. “Quinn, I’m going to need specifics. I’m investigating the Court Massacre. And I’m trying to clear your name while I’m at it. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? What happened at the Baxton Estate?”
“I did nothing. I did not attack anyone, but I did not help our people, either. I stood by and I did not help the huskarls. I did not help our friends, or their children. I watched what the demons did, and I was frozen…I was a coward. For that, I cannot forgive myself. When I couldn’t kill the queen, they made me watch the queen as they…as they…” he broke off, swallowing several times before pushing his shoulders back and looking her in the eye. “I couldn’t do it. But they wanted me to. So I ran.”
“You ran?” she prompted. There was a lot he was leaving out, a lot she needed to clarify, but it was a miracle she’d gotten him talking at all.
“I ran back here. They tried to stop me, but I was the wolf, and I was fast. I came back to the castle walls, and I stayed in the mountain woods.”
“What were you doing in the woods?”
“I don’t know. But I couldn’t go back. Not after what I’d done. And not when they were after me.”
“You keep saying ‘they’, but who are you referring to?”
