Queen's Hunt (River of Souls 2)

“We must go on,” she was saying. “Can you?”

Valara brushed aside her wish for sleep and nodded. “I can.”

Galena lit the lantern with their tinderbox. The light flared. Hundreds of beetles scattered in all directions, like dry autumn leaves before the wind. Valara caught a glimpse of broken furniture, old casks, and heaps of trash, all overlaid by a coating of dust, before she ducked under the low brick arch and followed her two companions.

For the first hour or so, the tunnel was a broad straight road. They picked their way through the dust and trash, startling more beetles and rats with their presence, but they made good progress. Then a set of steps led them down into a much narrower passageway that stank of dead things. Here the paving stones were broken; in places the brick-lined ceiling sagged dangerously. They jogged along bent over at first until the ever-lower ceiling forced them to crawl.

Valara soon lost count of the moments and hours. She ignored the patches of slime. The rats skittering over her hands or the tickle of spiders and their webs against her face. Whenever she slowed, Ilse poked her from behind. They had placed her in the middle, which meant they did not entirely trust her. She found she didn’t much care. As long as they reached this mythical exit Alesso had promised them. Once beyond Osterling’s magical shields, she could make the leap into Autrevelye and, from there, to Morennioù and home.

Home. To her people. To her father’s advisers and his army, now hers.

She paused and closed her eyes tight against the darkness. Felt a surge of grief she had not expected after all these days.

A hand smacked her on the buttocks.

“Don’t stop,” Ilse hissed.

It took all her willpower not to round on the woman and curse her with magic.

“Yes,” she breathed. “I understand.”

And she did. This was no time for grief. There wouldn’t be time, until she regained her homeland, took her throne, and drove the enemy from her shores.

She shook away the tears and hurried to catch up with Galena, now several feet ahead. Only another few hours, a day at the most, and she could escape this kingdom entirely. But she had to be certain before she made such an attempt. Ilse Zhalina knew a great deal of magic. Not as much as Valara, but enough to make escape difficult. No matter what the woman claimed, Valara did not trust her and her so-called friend with influence. If they suspected she held the jewel, they would do the same as Markus Khandarr.

The same as I would.

Their lantern sputtered and died. Galena abandoned it, and they continued forward through a suffocating darkness. The broken tiles gave way to rubble and trash and loose dirt falling from the ceiling. From time to time, Ilse called for a brief stop so they might each drink a mouthful of water, but neither she nor Galena suggested a longer halt. Valara didn’t argue. She did not want Markus Khandarr’s soldiers to trap her here.

At last, they reached a sharp turn, which emptied into a large chamber. Valara stumbled, her muscles cramped from the hours and hours of crawling. Galena caught her by the elbow to steady her. Valara muttered a thanks. Her throat was clogged with dust, and her voice came out as a feeble croak.

“Water,” Ilse said. Her own voice creaked. “Drink.”

Valara accepted the water skin and took a great gulping swallow. The water was warm; it carried a tang of earth and the slightly flat quality of cistern water. She took another swallow and handed the water skin back to Ilse, who drank deeply before she returned it to Galena.

“Do you know where we are?” Valara asked.

“The end of the tunnel, I think,” Galena said. “As far as we can go at least.”

“You think? You mean you don’t know?”

An uncomfortable pause followed.

“No,” Ilse said. “Unless you remembered to bring the map. Did you?”

Her tone was light, almost amused—a courtier’s voice, and very much out of place in this miserable dirty hole. Valara felt unaccustomed laugher fluttering beneath her ribs. If she gave way, she might start weeping from terror and exhaustion. She had the impression Ilse might do the same. “No. I forgot. My apologies.”

“A pity. Perhaps we ought to explore this chamber carefully. Alesso claimed we should find the way straight and easy, but he might have misspoken.”

A delicate way to say she had not trusted him completely, Valara thought.

They felt their way forward through the dark, keeping to the edge of the chamber. It was much larger than Valara had guessed—an irregular cavern made even more irregular by hundreds of crevices and alcoves. At one point, Galena discovered what must have been a continuation of their tunnel, but its entrance was blocked by an enormous spill of dirt and stones.

“Never mind,” Ilse said. “What we want is the exit to the shore.”

“What if he lied?” Galena said. “He lied about other things.”

She and Ilse began a soft-voiced argument about what to do next. Valara turned away from them. Was it her imagination, or had the light in the cavern brightened? She rose onto her hands and knees. Air puffed against her face. She sniffed and smelled salt tang and grass.