Page 9 of Of Masks and Fury

Mighty firecat.

You are.

I slipped out into the darkened corridor, the cool air brushing my skin. After locking the door with the key Victor had placed on a nearby table, I moved silently down the hall, every sense on high alert.

First, I needed to find Commander Thorne. He’d sent the letter; he was my only possible ally within these walls.

I made my way to the guards’ wing, my steps a whisper on stone tiles. The castle felt different in darkness. Corridors that had been familiar now stretched like the throat of a massive beast. Every shadow could hide watching eyes and every scrape of a sound could betray my presence.

I ducked into alcoves to avoid guard patrols and skirted around torches burning in places that were usually dark.

Thorne’s room was at the end of a short hall. I pressed my ear to the door, but I didn’t hear any movement inside. He could be asleep. I tried the handle, finding it unlocked, and nudged the panel wide.

The room was empty. Not just unoccupied, it had been cleaned out of everything but a bed and a side table. The walls no longer held his maps and diagrams of battle strategy. Faint marks on the walls showed where his treasured collection of blades had once hung. The air smelled like soap, not worn leather and the oil he’d used to keep his weapons pristine.

They’d stripped his bed and emptied his closet. It looked like he’d never been here at all.

A chill skittered across my bones.

Gone. My breath snagged. He was supposed to be my one sure point in this sea of unknowns. Had he been caught or betrayed? Questions twisted through my gut, but I’d find no answers here.

This wasn’t just a setback, it was a deep plunge into enemy waters.

I crept from his room and continued my mission.

More guards than I’d expected watched over the hallway leading to the dungeons, four alert men standing in front of the iron-banded door. There was no way I could slip past them without being seen.

Me,Pherin said, shooting down the hall, a tiny blur of teal and silver feathers. I remained hidden in an alcove, my heart pounding.

I closed my eyes, focusing on our bond, and the world shifted again, allowing me to see through her eyes. The guards looked like mountains of metal below. To her, the torchlight resembled a warm, dancing flower. She swooped lower, letting out a series of trills that mimicked a songbird from the western provinces.

“Did you hear that?” one of the guards said, squinting around. “That’s a frost-lark. Haven’t heard one of those in years.”

“You’re mad,” another said. “They don’t come this far inland.”

“My wife would kill for a frost-lark. We could put it in a cage. They bring good fortune.”

“Good luck trying to catch it, then.”

“Help me. Think of my wife.”

As they argued, craning their necks and moving around, trying to find Pherin, who trilled from further down the hall, I slipped through the shadows, a ghost slipping past the distracted men. I reached the door, tugged on the heavy iron ring, and eased it open enough to slip through, closing it as Pherin zipped in behind me.

The smell hit me first. Mildew, old blood, and despair. The scent of hopelessness.

A torch-lit stairwell swooped down into the darkness, and I descended, not stopping until I reached the lowest castle level far below. Cells flowed away from me on each side, damp, barred boxes, empty other than twenty-three huddled forms sleeping on low bunks mounted to the back walls. None roused or looked my way as I passed, and none looked like Addie.

My heart pounded against my ribs as I scanned each cell, searching for her.

Then I heard a cough. Weak, wet, and rattling, coming from the end of the corridor. I’d swear it sounded female.

My breath churned through my lungs as I ran in that direction.

The torches cast flickering light on the last cell, where a figure lay curled on the stone bunk in the back, a painfully thin frame wrapped in ragged clothing. A mess of hair, matted with grime, spilled over her shoulders.

Hope, fierce and blinding, surged through me. It had to be her.

“Addie.” Her name came out a barked croak. I gripped the cold iron bars until my knuckles whitened.