We walk down the hall in silence, Gaven on our heels. At the bottom of the stairs, on the main floor, I turn and look at Gaven.
“I’m afraid this is where we leave you.”
The guard frowns, but Harlow cuts off any argument he might make by brushing the slit in her dress aside to reveal the dagger strapped to her pale thigh. “I’ll be fine, Gaven.”
He nods and takes up his rigid stance in the hallway, hands tucked behind his back, watchful gaze fixed on us.
I pull out a blindfold and hold it up to Harlow.
“Surely you’re joking.”
I grin. “Don’t worry, lovely, I’ll stay close so you don’t trip.”
She grumbles as I tie the silk around her eyes. I loop an arm around her and guide her down the hallway through a series of twists and turns until we’re at the entrance to the well.
I lead her down the stairs like I’m stealing her away to some dark underworld where I might get lost too. I hold fast to her waist as we descend and pray to Divine Harvain for luck that this is the thing that will finally get her to let her guard down.
21
HARLOW
Henry’s aura pulses frantically around us as he leads me down the stone staircase. He’s nervous.
I can’t tell if it’s because he wasn’t supposed to show me this well, if he was hoping to hold out on this secret for a more strategic reveal, or if this is the actual strategic reveal and he’s just trying to get me to tell him what’s wrong with me.
I’m disoriented without my sight, with my head still foggy from the aftereffects of the pain. Every muscle in my body is wound tight from bracing against the ache, and even though the worst of it is gone, the remnants hang on as a warning not to let my guard down.
Still, a wild glimmer of hope sparks inside me. If this well is closer to the source of whatever magic is imbued in the waters of our family well, maybe it will be more potent. It could finally fix what ails me.
A frightening thought sears through my mind. Maybe it will make me mad like my father and Able. Maybe it will make me worse.
My silk slipper slides on the steps, and Henry tightens his hold on me. I’m graceless without my vision, too close to him and too off-kilter, and so angry at my body for being weak when I need it to be strong.
My heart beats frantically as the damp and fresh smell of water hits me. A faint trickling sound echoes through the stairwell.
Finally, we reach the bottom of the descent, and Henry stops me. He removes the blindfold, and I blink, trying to acclimate to the dim space.
Light emanates from the pool in front of me. Steam rises off the surface of the water, warping the reflections on the arched stone ceiling. On the far side of the room is a table with a carafe of water and a pile of linen towels.
It’s not as ornate as the Carrenwell Family Well. Instead of the fancy whitewashed stone of the well I grew up with, this room looks carved from the mountain itself. The dark granite walls glitter in the dancing sunstone light, but the dark color of the space seems to eat up the glow. The effect is a bit claustrophobic—like I’ve been let into a space too intimate for the newness of our acquaintance.
I stare at the water in disbelief. What does this well do?
For so long, I’d believed that the only wells in existence were the Family Well and the Blood Well. How could there have been another all this time without us knowing? I’d never been naive enough to believe my father knew everything, but he was nothing if not motivated by his own survival. There is no way he knows this exists and wouldn’t have at least attempted to explore it after the fort fell.
Henry watches me so intensely, it’s like he’s trying to see through my skin to understand.
“How does this work?” I ask.
“Well, lovely. You simply get in the water and?—”
I glower at him. “I know that part, you ass. I mean how do you get the water in here? Our well is always cold. The water flows through in a gentle current, but this is still.”
Henry walks around the pool to the far wall. He taps his hand on what looks like a long stone slide that forms a gutter into the pool.
“As you can tell, we’ve come down pretty far below ground level. The actual flow of the well is higher than this. It’s about twenty feet or so to the right of where we stand. There’s a valve here.” He places his hand on a knob I hadn’t seen before. “If I turn this, water will flow in. Cold as a glacier. Not pleasant at all. That’s why we use the sunstones. It should be nice and hot for you.”
“And when you’re finished—where does the runoff go?” I ask.
