But waiting had not gotten her far.
Lunelle slipped from her room, falling into the shadows of the hall as she skirted toward the end of the Tether. Mirquios was with several other courtiers in one of the libraries, the silence settling heavily between them. Lunelle pulled the door closed behind her, but a hand in the crack stopped her.
Yallara slithered in.
“You two should get some rest,” the king said, his eyes fixed on a pile of half-dust documents speckled with ash.
“Lura did not return,” Lunelle said. She only looked at him. She only spoke to him.
“Lu,” he breathed, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Shit.”
“I know where he keeps prisoners,” Yallara offered. “I can take you.”
Lunelle did not hesitate to follow Yallara, the Tether in her chest twisting and loosening as Mirquios gave his courtiers instructions to await his return and jogged after the women.
Yallara slipped between walls and let them into the servants’ corridors, pulling Lunelle gently along in the opposite direction from the stairs to the catacombs.
“They’ll be heavily guarded. One of the guards told me they brought back six rebels, four Plutonian. The other two he did not know.”
“They burned The Underground to dust,” Mirquios said behind them.
“Bastard,” Yallara muttered. She stopped at a sharp corner. “They’re in the spire. I cannot take you further?—”
“I understand,” Lunelle said. “Thank you.”
Yallara patted her shoulder and faded back down the hall, her inky black waves melting into the shadows.
Lunelle listened to her slippers slow as she found her way back to her room.
“What’s the plan, Princess?”
Lunelle pushed her shoulders back, took a cleansing breath, and then charged forward into the spiraling staircase before her.
It took ages to climb, but she felt better with the king at her back. She followed the curve of the spire until they came to a lofted door, flanked by two Plutonian guards.
The first ignored them, the second arched a brow.
“We were informed our courtiers are being held here,” Lunelle said, her voice even, flat.
She could feel the thrill in the Tether from Mirquios.
“Who informed you?” the first guard asked, his deep onyx brows thick and overgrown.
“The prince,” Mirquios said. “We received word just a bit ago. I could return to confirm with him, but…” The king leaned out from behind Lunelle. “It’s a long way down, gents.”
They exchanged a glance, and the first guard stepped aside, pushing an ancient wooden door inward.
Two rows of cells lined the small room, five deep on either side. Lunelle darted between them, the bruised and beaten faces of rebels eyeing her as she searched for Lura.
“You cannot be here,” Lura hissed from the final cell at the end of the hall. She sat up, her hands wrapping around the bars, shallow cuts bright pink around her knuckles.
“Oh, Lura, I’m so sorry,” Lunelle sighed, crouching across from her. “I failed you?—”
“You cannot be caught here!”
“Release her,” Lunelle declared, rising and pointing to Lura.
The guards looked at her like she’d grown a second head.
