Page 7 of The Crowned Queen

“Think about it, Starling. You don’t have to answer now.” He stood, taking a step back and giving her some much-needed space. “Try and get some rest. I’ll have Belanis bring you a hot water bottle.”

Chapter

Two

Loren had never spared much thought for the flood tunnels under Aetheris. Why should he have, when he walked through the streets of the city as its prince? He’d never considered how cold and dark they must be, or how everything would reek of damp and mildew, the stench clinging to his hair and his clothes no matter how much he scrubbed. He’d never bothered to think about how the steady drip drip drip could wear on a person’s sanity over the course of just a few short weeks. And he’d certainly never imagined that he would be living in them, huddled in the darkness like a rat, hiding from the humans that had stolen his kingdom.

You should be out there. The shadows curled around his ankles, sibilant whispers slithering through his mind. Jaxon Shaw took her from us. And you have done nothing.

Loren rubbed at the scars around his wrists, the cold bite of damp air and the constant darkness reminding him a little too much of the cell he’d spent twenty-five years in. Finn swore they were safe in the tunnels, but all he could feel was the weight of the city pressing down above them. She was up there somewhere—so close but still entirely out of his reach.

“She’s in the Shaw house,” he said. “We need to be making a plan to get in there.”

“We can’t move without confirmation,” Finn said patiently. “It’s too risky. We need more information—scouts, timing, watch rotations. Rushing in blind gets people killed, Loren.”

“We’ve been searching for confirmation for weeks,” Loren growled. “There’s nowhere else he would have taken her.”

“I know you believe that, but you don’t know,” Serafina said gently. She smoothed the map on the crate between them with her crabbed hands, studying it. “They kept you in the cells under the Aetherium for twenty-five years and we never heard a whisper of it. I don’t think they would have taken her there after you escaped, but there are other black sites, some we know about and plenty we don’t.”

“If you could feel her,” Finn added, his voice just as careful, “it would give us more to go on⁠—”

Loren swore viciously, slamming a fist against the cold stone. Pain lanced through his hand, bones cracking.

It always came back to that. He couldn’t feel her. There was nothing where their bond should have been except silence and the hollow, aching reminder that he was failing her. Again.

“Loren—” Serafina caught his injured hand before he could pull away. Warmth spread from her touch, her magic soothing the pain and encouraging flesh and bone to knit back together. “You can’t blame yourself.”

Loren laughed darkly. Who else was there to blame? Serafina’s bent fingers trembled as she released his hand—another thing that was his fault. The Arcanum had tortured her for months because she helped him escape with Araya the first time.

Loren looked away, forcing himself to breathe evenly as dara’el stirred around his feet, its dark power brushing against his mind. It had tried to crush the life from him once, its spirit as broken as he was. But now the ancient magic was part of him—partner, rather than foe.

Araya had done that. She had claimed him with blood and name, reunited dara’el with its shattered pieces and dragged a power that predated the fae themselves back from the brink of madness.

Every fae on Eluneth owed her their lives. He owed her his life.

And he’d repaid her by failing to protect her. His sister’s own spymaster had handed her back to the Arcanum, and then the small council had refused to send an army after her. He’d come anyway, determined to rescue her—but instead he’d spent weeks in these awful tunnels, doing nothing while she suffered at Jaxon Shaw’s hands. And without the bond…they could be doing anything to her, and he would never know.

She lives, the shadows whispered. You would know if she did not.

A small comfort. Loren drew a shuddering breath and held it. He knew better than most that there was a lot Jaxon Shaw could do to a fae without killing them.

“They’re keeping the bond suppressed,” he said when he trusted his voice again. “But I know the Shaws. I was a valuable prisoner—but Jaxon…” Loren shook his head, unable to meet his friends’ eyes and face the pity he knew he’d see there. “He thinks he owns her. He’ll keep her as close as possible. Trust me.”

“I do, Loren.” Finn sighed heavily. “But we’re talking about people’s lives. If we go in blind and something goes wrong—” he trailed off, shaking his head. “Let’s just wait and see what Kai has to say, alright?”

“And you trust him?” Loren clenched his jaw, the shadows darkening around him. Kai might claim to be helping them, but what had he done in the weeks they had been here? They were no closer to rescuing her than they were when the rebels and Farhallow first put him in contact with them. “He was there when she was taken.”

“Loren…” Finn sighed, the slow drip of water from the ceiling and quiet rustle of other rebels moving around in the adjacent tunnels suddenly loud. “I don’t know what you want from him. He helped Eilwen escape with her son on Eluneth. He’s been working with Maerin’s rebels here—he even found a way to adjust the ly’ithra runes so it wasn’t obvious they’d been tampered with. The Arcanum would kill him for that, no matter who his father or his friends are. What else does he have to do to prove himself?”

What did Jaxon Shaw’s best friend have to do to prove himself? Loren bared his teeth, ice skimming the puddles on the floor as the shadows slid across the walls, swallowing the weak glow of the aetherlamps.

“He should be here,” he snapped. “Getting us the confirmation you keep saying we need. He spends more time in Farhallow than he does rubbing elbows with the people he’s supposed to be informing on.”

“Loren…” Serafina trailed off, glancing over at Finn. “I’m sure Kai is doing everything he can to help find Araya, but have you seen what it’s like in Farhallow? The way the fae there live? Your people need help too.”

Not as much as Araya did.

Loren bit back the ugly words, but from Serafina’s sharp look they still showed on his face. She opened her mouth, no doubt ready to say something that would have him wallowing in a pool of guilt the rest of the day—but before she got the chance a shrill whistle shattered the silence.