Chapter 27

My eyes could see nothing in that darkness, so total and all-consuming. My only purchase was the cool touch of stone through the passageway, guiding me around turns, leading me ever closer to the lowest level of my father's fortress. I hated the darkness, yet knew that I should savour it—for if I saw a light somewhere in this passage, it could only mean that this way had been infiltrated.    Perhaps I could sneak in successfully. Perhaps, my mission would be smiled upon one day—one of the rare unlikely stories that miraculously turned out well.    Perhaps Ma was still alive, and strong enough to sneak from whatever holdings she was in, and come with me down this hidden pass. In truth, I didn't know of anyone besides my father who knew of this passageway, and I had only discovered it by accident. A hole in the wall, where you'd press your thumb, and a sliver of a crack would appear in the deceptively solid wall of the basement.    I only hoped that whatever many secrets he was spilling to Hybern, he had not spilled this one.    My heart thundered, hot blood pulsating up my neck, into my head, a headache coming on from my excitement as I realised that I had come upon the end. I placed my hand upon the wooden boards of the end wall, then pushed my ear against the thick slats, listening.    There was not a sound. It was as if the vision of my father's fortress overrun by Hybern soldiers was just that: a vision. But I couldn't think that—I didn't think that. The silence gave me gooseflesh, and I wondered at this open playing field in front of me. This was too easy. If Ma was down here, we'd be out of here together so quickly it was as if none of this had existed. Nothing like Azriel and Feyre made it out to be.    Silently, while biting on my lip hard, I pushed the slats to the side. They gave, opening to that sliver of space allowing one person to slide through.    The room was empty. A few lanterns flickered in their places hung on the walls, some of them with blazing flames and plenty of oil, and some sputtering in what little fuel they had left.    I glanced around, wondering where in this basement could they have set up cages. I couldn't remember father ever having cages before. Up until this point, I hadn't allowed myself to think that they could be locked.    I snuck out, leaving the entrance open behind me. I already wanted to turn back and sprint into it, locking myself safely away, hidden from the dangers I knew loomed above.    But I took a step forward, then another shuffle, and soon I was moving past the first wall, peering around it at all the useless crates collecting cobwebs and dustmotes.    I had expected there to be guards at every turn, lounging against the crates, gulping down the final drops of my grandfathers precious aged wine.    Why was there no one around? The place seemed deserted, so much so that I inched past the wall and into the hallway, letting my figure become illumined with light.    If it truly was deserted down here, now was the time to rush.    I hurried down the hall, clutching at the heavy fabric of my skirts, peering past the junk into the far expanses of the basement—but I saw no evidence of a cage, of prisoners, Fae nor a whole army of them. My confidence increased with the vacantness and I sped toward the rotting stairs, my eyes scanning the darkness before me when I stopped cold.    It was only a slight shift of my foot with my step. My toe slid maybe an inch sideways, enough for an electric bolt to travel up my leg, telling me I was slipping, the muscles in my stomach clenching in response.    Slowly, I looked down to the dark pool of liquid underneath my toe.    Wine. It had to be.    It must be.    But it was thick.    Maybe grandfather didn't do it properly, maybe the wine sat too long, and the soldiers dumped it onto the ground—    But even as I thought it, my eyes were tracing its trail. Away from the stairs, into the dark, behind a stack of crates. Slowly, I inched forward, my nostrils flaring as my eyes flicked toward the secret entrance, then up to the door at the top of the stairs.    This was a mistake. This was a dreadful mistake.    Why couldn't Azriel, Feyre's precious spy-master, have just broken Ma out while he was here? Why if the place seemed to be so deserted? He mustn't be a good spy-master at all if he failed to uncover that hidden passageway.    These ridiculous Fae, thinking they could do anything merely because they lived longer than us and could wield magic and hone their bodies into such beautiful sculptures of size and muscle—    I drew in a deep breath, remembering Tamlin, in the darkness of his bedroom, recovering from the trauma of his nightmare—nightmares of Amarantha. I couldn't blame him if he didn't want to come anywhere near here, if what Feyre and Azriel said were true—that Amarantha's sister had taken her place.    I would find Ma, and I would return to him, and we'd all be free of this.    I grabbed a lantern off one of the pegs and began to hurry along the trail of blood-drops, my breath coming in heavy, eager gasps as I swung the light this way and that until, finally, my eye caught the glint of metal.    Bars. The steel looked old, the cages looked withered, as if they had been here for years. But I couldn't remember ever seeing them.    I dimmed the lantern and moved forward, a sweat-bead trickling down my forehead, tickling my nose, and I swiped at it furiously, dislodging the scarf from around my mouth. I swallowed the thickness climbing up my throat.    I could hear nothing but the thunder of my heart.    "Who's there?" A meek voice, coming from inside the cage. "Graysen? Please, Graysen?"    I heard a shuffle, and then I saw her hands, clawing at the stone floor. They were caked with dirt, or blood, I couldn't tell in the lighting.    "Please, do you have food?" Then her eyes found mine and they widened. "Ellaena... Go back. Oh Ellaena, go back now!" She hissed, scrambling up the bars and my tears were instant.    She looked the same, maybe even better than my last memory of her, despite being locked up in a cage. She was more plump; she looked as if she found the happiness she had been searching for.    "I didn't think I'd be allowed to see you. I'm so glad Graysen kept you well, but you must go. If they discover you sneaking to see me—"    "I'm getting you out, Ma, before I leave. They don't know I'm here."    She shook her head. "They don't know? Then leave. Go back!"    "Is there a key?"    "On the prison-guard, but he left with all of them. Something's going on up there and you can't be here when they come back! You should never have come, darling," Her hands were twisting the bars.    "Ma," I croaked, setting down the lantern and reaching for her hands. "Let me see you," Before I could touch her fingers, she reached out and grasped my hand firmly.    "Ellaena, my dear. I love you. I love you. I wanted to bring you with me but—I can't explain right now because you must go. Please."    "I can't leave without you," I hissed, looking all around for something, anything to pick the lock, suddenly disappointed by my foolish hope that the key ring would have been left there, or I wouldn't need it, and all would go well.     "Why? Why not leave me after I had left you?"    "Because, Ma," I turned to her, meeting her eyes, looking into them for the first time in many years. "Because I cannot—"    But I was yanked off of my feet, and a rush of hot breath pierced my ear from behind. Ma's scream tore through the darkness.    "Well, well... what a surprise."