As much as I don't trust him, I do believe him. "Where are we going?"
"My room. Roundtable meeting with the middle Harrison prince."
"You did not just equate yourself to a knight, did you?"
"I am rescuing you right now aren't I?"
"Or kidnapping me."
"Hey, you don't have to come. You're the one who wants answers." He hesitates a second before adding, "But I have to warn you that this passage is long, narrow and really dark. I have a flashlight, but I'm not sure if it'll be enough."
I study him. His face doesn't reveal anything, like maybe he's genuinely concerned about me. But the fact that he's warning me about what could happen if I go with him, says enough.
"You can squeeze the shit out my hand if it'll help. But just don't punch me. You hurt."
I release a small laugh. He holds out his hand and I take it.
Brendan pokes his head out of my room, checking the hall in both directions before he pulls me out after him, having taped my latch open so it won't click shut. We walk briskly to the end of the corridor on my side of the grand staircase. In the few seconds it takes for me to check over my shoulder that the hall is still empty and then turn back to him, a section of the wall has swung open.
"Ready?" Brendan asks, giving my hand a firm squeeze. I nod. He turns on a flashlight and illuminates a steep, narrow stone staircase. I step down to allow him to close the passage; then I grab his hand again. This stairwell is as narrow as the one that led up to the Quiet Room; the wall is so close I can feel my breath bounce back. My chest is heaving by the time we reach the next small landing. "How are you doing?"
"Distract me," I rasp, my forehead prickling with sweat. "Tell me something about you. Anything, no matter how stupid."
"I love you how you assume anything about me will be stupid."
I laugh, or wheeze.
"Did you," I take in a couple short breaths, "ever leave Nantucket before here?"
"Save your air, Princess. Don't want you passing out before we get to my room. And to answer your question, yes. I didn't remain trapped on the island like my mother. Mostly went to Boston or New York. Flew to London last summer. My grandmother is protective but trusting. She caught on early enough that I wasn't someone to be contained. So she pressed some morals upon me and hoped they'd stick."
"They didn't," I mutter.
He stops and pulls my arm so I'm right up against him. "But I make up for it in morale. I'm very good at everything I do."
I shove him forward. He releases a menacing chuckle and continues down the steep staircase that turns at sharp angles. I know we have to descend five floors, but it feels like we're entering the bowels of hell the farther we go down. The air becomes colder and feels so heavy, it's like I can taste the decay with each labored breath.
My body shivers when the frigid temperature collides with my damp skin. "Are you sure you're not going to murder me and leave me down here with your collection?"
"No. You're too fun to play with," he answers. "Stay close."
I grip his forearm with my free hand and huddle up against him.
"Talk to me," I beg, tripping over my feet which refuse to move properly. I want to close my eyes to stop the spinning, but then I know I'll fall. I don't want to be down here anymore. I'm not sure how much more I can take before I'm consumed by the panic again.
"You're a pretty fascinating person, Lana Peri." I can hardly hear him with my pulse roaring in my ears. My shoulder scrapes against wet, slimy stone and I bite back a scream. "With everything life has thrown at you, you know how to take care of yourself. Hell, I wouldn't want to be trapped in a dark alley with you." He laughs. "Oh, wait. We are."
I punch his arm.
"Dammit, woman! Stop punching me. You're a hell of a lot stronger than your little spritely size might indicate."
"Then stop saying stupid things," I choke out.
Finally, we start climbing up another set of stairs again. My body is racked with the shakes. I have to stop.
"Hold," I draw in air, but it's like I'm breathing through a straw, "on." I bend over, trying to inflate my lungs.
Brendan lifts me up and throws me over his shoulder. "Let's get you out of here." I don't try to resist, even though having his hands on me right now is making my body quake even more. I fight the urge to kick and punch him, even though that's what every instinctive defense is screaming at me to do. So I squeeze my eyes shut, clench my fists and concentrate on the sound of his footsteps.