33

The inside of the palace seemed more restricting than Gael remembered. Luca led her down halls made of white stone and decked in long, scrolling tapestries and decorative swords and shields that glinted in the flickering lamplight.

Luckily, with Luca's authority as one of the guards and his clothing in Ellay's colours, they passed through the darkened halls without much more than a second glance. They had waited until nightfall even though the delay had killed Gael—every moment they waited was another moment that someone could be hurting Ainsley.

"Wait. There's something I need to see." Luca stopped them with a gesture, then carefully pulled open a heavy wooden door set into the stone wall. Gael and Nathe followed him inside.

The room they were welcomed into was large and dark with disuse, wall lanterns casting minimal amounts of light. Most of the space was taken up by a single massive wooden table, most of which couldn't be seen through the layers of paper and equipment strewn across it. The vast majority of the space was covered by a large map.

"What is this?" Gael asked.

"The strategy room." Luca ran his fingers over the map, examining the icons drawn on it. "It's as I feared. These symbols here represent ground troops, and these are new ones—doesn't take much battle strategy knowledge to know what they mean, however."

Gael leaned closer. Drawn along the coastline in dark ink were unmistakable representations of dragons, wings spread in flight. The ink was fresh and bold black against the paper.

"He's using dragons to stage an attack?" She touched her fingers against the dark squiggle of coastline on the paper, forming the shape of a large bay. "This is Fortra's coast."

Luca nodded, expression grave, brows drawn. "He's going to attack Fortra. I can't be sure when; there's no dates on here. But it will be soon."

Gael swallowed, dread coiling in her stomach. Nathe's hands were clenched around the edge of the table, knuckles pale. "Okay. Let's just find Ainsley for now."

The cold, damp air of the dungeon closed around them as soon as Luca opened the door, telling the guard posted at the entrance that he was there to relieve him and take a shift. After that, it was a simple matter for Gael and Nathe to wait until the soldier left, and then follow Luca down into the depths of the prisons.

The stench was awful—human waste mixed with mold and decay and the coppery smell of blood. Gael's hands trembled as she followed Luca down the steep staircase, careful not to step in the unknown stains that mottled the stone floor. Torches spaced at regular intervals along the walls threw their flickring shadows against the roughly-hewn rock.

Luca flicked through the ring of keys he had taken from the previous guard, the sound echoing hollowly off the walls. Gael swallowed, peering into cells as they walked by.

The prisoners inside looked absolutely wrectched. They huddled on the floor, shackled to the walls, faces emaciated and hollowed out and their clothes dripping off of their worn frames.

"Gael!"

Nathe beckoned them over.

"Get over here and bring the damn keys!"

Luca and Gael hurried in his direction, the guard already slipping the keys into the slot before he had even glanced inside the cell. Gael grabbed at the bars built into the heavy door, attempting to peer through the gloom inside. Her heart hammered in her chest.

The door opened and Gael practically fell into the cell.

In the corner, a figure stirred.

Ainsley was slumped against the wall, not an ounce of vitality showing in her slouched posture and the way her hands hung limp where they were shackled to the stone. Gael's heart thudded an unnatural beat, and she felt hot tears rise in her eyes and sickening rage burn in her stomach.

The princess lifted her head, blinking, and struggling to focus. Strands of her pale blonde hair, dull and dirty in the darkness, hung in front of her face, but Gael could still make out the web of dried blood that covered the side of her face from her temple down to her jaw. Bruises covered every inch of visible skin.

Gael snatched the keys fromm Luca's grip and rushed forward, unlocking the shackles. Ainsley's arms fell limply to the ground. When she spoke, her voice was a hoarse whisper, blood staining her teeth and lips.

"Gael?"

They crumpled into each other's arms. Before Gael knew what she was doing, she was on the cold stone floor, holding Ainsley tight to her chest. Ainsley sobbed openly, hands clutching weakly at Gael's hair, then her neck, then her shoulders, as though she needed to make sure she was really there. Gael felt tears flow unheeded from her eyes even as she held the princess' shuddering frame, curled up with her on the floor.

"It's me, Ainsley. It's okay."

"You're alive—I—how did you find me—"

Gael shushed her gently, smoothing her hand over her tangled hair. "Later. Let's focus on getting you out of here."

She began to help Ainsley to her feet. The princess wobbled, swaying as she stood, and instantly, Luca and Nathe were rushing over, faces written with concern. Luca wound an arm over Ainsley's shoulders, helping to support her as they left the cell. Once out of the cell, Ainsley seemed to regain some strength, her weight lightening off of Gael and Luca's grip. Still, they helped her up the stairs, with Nathe walking ahead to make sure their path was clear.

They emerged in the corridor and began to make their way down it, moving as quickly as possible despite Ainsley's faltering steps and shallow breathing. Fresh blood pooled where her skin moved, breaking the new scabbing that had covered them. Drops of scarlet fell to the spotless marble floor below.

Then Nathe stopped short. From down the corridor, metal echoed against stone.

He turned, face white. "Move. Get 'er out of here."

It was too late. The soldiers were upon them in an instant, and Ainsley was in no condition to be moving so quickly. Gael fumbled for her pistol, shaking fingers struggling to get a hold on it.

Ainsley tore herself from their arms, making an unsteady break for the nearest wall before Gael could stop her.

"Ainsley—!"

Her bloody hands found the hilt of an elaborate decorative sword, and she yanked it from its wall mounts before turning on the soldiers. It was far too heavy to be wielded properly—it was a ceremonial weapon, inlaid with gold and silver accents and with a single deep scarlet ruby set into the handle—but she held it aloft anyways, knees trembling with exertion and her knuckles pale through the gore that covered them. Torchlight glittered a dark, bloody red against the gemstone.

"Stop!"

The guards came to a clumsy halt, tripping over one another as though her voice alone had compelled them to it unwillingly. She adjusted her unsteady grip on the unwieldy weapon.

"Don't take another step. I command you to step aside, unless you truly take joy in following my father's orders."

Gael watched their expressions begin to change, weapons shifting and lowering, reluctance showing on their features. Of course. They would never want to hurt their princess.

"Let us go," Ainsley continued, voice strong despite the way blood still dribbled in a line from her mouth to her chin, "and I will remember you when I ascend the throne. Please."

There was a moment of hesitation. Then, finally, one of the soldiers dropped his sword with a clatter and got down on one knee, bowing his head to the ground.

"Our sincerest apologies, my lady."

She released the heavy sword and it hit the ground with a discordant clatter. Gael approached her, swallowing at the sight of glittering tears welling up in her eyes.

"Thank you," Ainsley replied.

The other guards parted, bowing deferentially. The one who had spoken stood and took her shoulder in one large hand, then gave Gael a nod.

"Take care of her."

"I will."

"May the titans grant you speed."

Gael gently took Ainsley's elbow.

"Come."

With Luca on her other side and Nathe in the lead once more, they traversed the rest of the castle's corridors without interruption. Finally, the stone opened up around them and the moonlight washed over their shoulders. It was there that Ainsley finally collapsed—she swayed, face going white, and then crumpled in a heap.

Nathe made no comment, only moving to sweep her up in his arms as though she weighed no more than a feather. Gael and Luca followed anxiously behind, stopping only when they reached the horses waiting outside the courtyard.

From there, the bay was only a brisk gallop away. The air began to taste salty on Gael's lips, and finally, the moonlight glinted on gently rolling waves. And according to plan, the Finch was there, bobbing on the water. She felt the knot of tension begin to uncoil in her chest, and glanced over at Ainsley, slumped against Nathe's chest on the horse he rode. She longed to touch her, to run her fingers through her hair and tell her she would soon be safe.

Nearly there.

Aboard the Finch, the crew surrounded them instantly, expressions concerned and sleepless. Gael pushed them aside, offering reassurances even as she led Nathe to her room.

"Someone fetch Holmann," she instructed, pushing open the door to her quarters and stepping aside so Nathe could settle her down on the bed. Like this, swamped in sheets and breathing shallowly through blood and tear stains, a sense of fragility she didn't often get when looking at Ainsley struck Gael. She looked small. Helpless. Even if Gael knew that wasn't the case at all.

Holmann entered the cabin in a rush, a clean rag thrown over his shoulder and clutching a canvas sack in his hands. At the slam of the door, Ainsley stirred, lashes fluttering.

"Gael?" She whispered through dry, split lips. Gael hurried to the edge of the bed, sitting down and reaching out to brush a strand of tangled hair off of her face. It was longer than when Gael had first seen her, tickling her neck and shoulders—had so much time passed already?

"I'm here, Ainsley. It's alright, we're on the Finch. We're going to help you."

Ainsley let out a shallow sigh, a pale hand reaching for Gael's fingers twining together. Gael gave it a reassuring squeeze and tried to smile through the tears that blurred her vision.

"Okay," Ainsley slurred, eyes closing again and relaxing further into the bedsheets. The tension in her shoulders relaxed slightly and her breathing began to even out once more. Gael sucked in a shuddering breath, glanced at Holmann, and gave him a nod to begin.

not many chapters left, guys! ainsley is finally safe again, but fortra is in danger. comment your thoughts and don't forget to drop a vote on the way out <3