Maybe I got a little lost in the role.
We continue down the hallway. The noise from the main floor grows louder as we emerge into the open. I navigate through the crowd, weaving past dancers and drunks until we reach a narrow wooden door tucked off to the side. More of a broom closet than anything else.
“From what I gathered, there’s a holding cell system below,” I explain, relaying what I pulled from the minds around us.
Of course the door is locked. Blasting through it would draw attention.
“Is there an issue?” Millicent asks, voice laced with condescension.
“It’s locked.”
“No,” she gasps, the sarcasm in her voice weighing it down. She looks at me like I have no functioning brain cells. “You said it’s a holding cell entrance. It’s going to be locked. Just break it.”
I shoot her a flat look. “Millicent, if I break the lock, we’ll alert half the building.”
She rolls her eyes and shoves me aside. “Move, You’re useless.”
I scoff, crossing my arms and leaning back to watch this supposed solution unfold.
She plucks a red jewel from her earring and shields the door handle from view. Sliding the post into the lock, she works it like she’s done this before.
“You were so convincing back in the hall. Talk to me now, so it doesn’t look like I’m breaking into a door,” she murmurs.
“You can lockpick? She’s a murderer, a liar, totally manipulative…and now a thief?”
“You forgot something.”
The lock clicks. And she opens the door with a flourish.
“Extremely good-looking,” she finishes smugly before descending the stairs.
I briefly consider pushing her down them. No—that’s too childish.
Throwing her? Now that’s more my style.
I settle for just following instead.
The stairwell opens to a dank corridor lined with rusting iron bars. The air is wet and sour. A rat darts past as water drips steadily from somewhere overhead.
“There you are!”
Iris’s voice cuts through the gloom. She waves us over, standing at the end of one of the rows beside a cell.
When I reach her, I peer into it.
Kalix sits on the floor with his wrists and ankles bound in iron cuffs.
“Oh, I thought they were going to compel him. They just locked him up?”
“He started a fight,” Iris says, shooting a look of disapproval into the cell. “They put him in here to sober up and they let me come down here with him. I told them I’m a healer.” She rolls her eyes, clearly annoyed. “They don’t like vomit from drunks in the cells, I guess. So, I’m babysitting a grown man.”
I laugh.
That earns me a slap on my shoulder. “It’s not funny! We’ve been of no use because he got in trouble. Did you guys find anything?” She sighs, placing her hands on her hips.
Dark magic prickles up my spine as Millicent approaches. Her presence hits before her voice.
“We did,” she says coolly, “I’ll fill you in once we’re both out of this place. I think we’d both prefer to be clothed and far from these men.”
