Vixie sat up, panting and disoriented, visions of cannons and blood still swirling in her mind. She peered around blearily and felt the gentle scratch of Wyneth’s hand at her back.
“Sh, love, go back to sleep.”
“Nay.” Vixie rubbed her eyes and pulled her legs crisscross on the mat she shared with her cousin. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. She’d closed her eyes to try to rid herself of a headache. “How long have we been down here? It feels like days.”
“Half a day, at most,” said Harrison from the bench next to Wyneth. He leaned his elbows on his knees, a foot tapping nervously. Beside him, Lief paced from one end of the tunnel to the other, a mere five steps for him.
From across the way, Mrs. Rathbrook came to Vixie and knelt before her. “Is your head bothering you, dear?”
“Yes,” Vixie whispered.
“May I?” The woman’s hand hovered beside her cheek, and Vixie nodded. The princess closed her eyes as the Lashed healer touched the side of her head and weaved warmth through her mind that seemed to unravel the tight thread within. Vixie breathed and relaxed.
“Thank you.”
Mrs. Rathbrook smiled and went back to her pallet beside her watchful guard.
Down the long, low-ceilinged room were forty-seven people. Soldiers, guards, cooks, maids, and them. Every cot, mat, chair, and wall space was spoken for. The baker had made loads of bread. Apparently he baked more than necessary under stress. Coincidentally, Vixie ate more than necessary under stress, so lucky her.
Vixie leaned her head back against the wall. “What do you suppose is happening up there? Can anything be heard?”
“Nay,” Wyneth said quietly. “Nothing.” To Vixie’s surprise, Wyneth reached up and placed a hand on Harrison’s knee. He covered her hand with his own. The gesture was so intimate, so loving and natural, that Vixie could only stare. She wasn’t alone, either.
Lief stopped pacing, eyeballed their two hands together, and all but snarled as he began his furious pacing again. Nobody dared tell the coldlander to sit down and be still. Wyneth gave Vixie a small, reassuring smile, but it did nothing to calm her. All she could think about was that her parents had been murdered, and how those same people were now directly above her with her sister.
Was Aerity even still alive? A sob rose and Vixie choked it down, tried to make it seem like a cough. She lifted her knees and put her arms across them to hide her face. Wyneth rubbed her back again. What would Vixie do without Aerity? And would that make her the queen? She’d never, ever aspired to be ruler. It simply wasn’t in her. That had always been Aerity’s job. Vixie quickly wiped her dripping eyes against her shoulders.
One of the chefs, a plump middle-aged man who sat atop a large chest at the rear of the room, jumped to his feet and said, “Sh! Listen! Do you hear that?”
All murmuring and shuffling stopped. The room became silent.
They waited. Another beat passed. And a third.
Then . . . a scraping. A light thump. Another scrape.
The chef spun to face the wall behind him, staring at the blank space and the chest. “I—I think it’s in the wall!”
Lief, Harrison, and several soldiers ran for the back of the room, forcing the baker, chefs, and maids to move away and let them inspect. Wyneth and Vixie both stood to see, but they were too short. Vixie climbed up on the bench, her head grazing the low ceiling. She placed her hands on Wyneth’s shoulders in front of her, and Wyn grabbed her fingers, watching the men.
Lief ran his hands over the wall, and Harrison opened the chest.
“Someone is definitely on the other side of this,” Lief murmured.
But they were underground!
“Here!” Harrison said, peering down into the chest. He seemed to be pulling up a panel of some sort and then there was a poof sound and chaos broke out. The men all brandished their daggers and bows, pointing their weapons into the chest. What in Eurona was happening?
“Oh, seas!” Wyneth said, grasping Vixie’s hands.
And then Lief spoke out. “Volgan? Is that you?”
“Yes, lord,” came a deep, bad-tempered voice, “and I’m tired of eating dirt, so if you could remove the arrows from my face and give me a hand, that’d be appreciated.”
Lief slung his bow over his back, letting out a hearty laugh as he reached down into the giant chest and helped an even more giant man out. Vixie gaped in disbelief. She recognized the man from the hunt!
“Ascomannians?” she asked.
Lief shot her a smile over the heads of the others. “At your service, it seems.”
Vixie jumped down and pushed her way through the crowd. One by one, filthy coldlands men rose from the depths of the chest, brushing off their furs and beards before embracing Lief.
“How many are there?” Vixie asked in wonder.
“Why, all of us, of course,” said the hairiest, Volgan. He winked at her. “Here to save your arses again.”
Vixie couldn’t even bring herself to be offended. She simply bounded into the great big brute’s arms and hugged him with all her might.