40. Saoirse

Saoirse

T houghts of Vane plagued me for the rest of the night. Or at least what I thought might be night, when I'd felt tired enough to close my eyes and get a few hours of uncomfortable sleep.

Tomorrow, he would stand trial for crimes he didn't commit, and the thought of losing him made my heart ache with a pain far worse than any physical wound. What if Len was right? What if they sentenced him to death?

The very idea sent shivers through me, my body alternating between hot and cold. He had risked everything to come here for his people, and I'd dragged him into this mess even further. He could have taken the staff and just left, but he hadn't.

For me.

Guilt consumed me. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Vane's face. Those piercing red eyes, the inky shadows that writhed across his skin. The way he looked at me, the way he supported and believed in me when I couldn't believe in myself. The way his body felt against mine.

How was the world supposed to continue without him in it?

The cell door creaked open again, and I didn't bother to look up, not caring who else had decided to come see me. I expected the heavy footfalls of the guards, but these footsteps were different, softer. I raised my head slightly, my breath catching when I saw who it was.

"Xan?" I croaked, tears welling in my eyes, blurring my vision.

"They told me you were dead," she sobbed as she reached through the bars, gripping my forearms. Her hands were warm, her fingers trembling against my skin as she looked me up and down, taking in my battered state and ruined clothes. "I thought I'd lost you forever. What did they do to you?"

I shook my head, tears spilling over my cheeks. "I'm alive. That's all that matters."

She looked over her shoulder, and Len stepped into view, his face wearing a determination I hadn't seen from him before. "We came to get you out," he said, his voice firm.

"How?" I asked, glancing between them. "The guards—"

"Already took them out," Xan said, standing to her feet. Len walked over, a set of keys in his hand as he unlatched my cell, the door swinging wide as Xan rushed in. I didn't even protest when she threw her arms around me in a warm hug, my arms wrapping around her as tightly as I could manage in my weakened state.

"We don't have a lot of time," Len warned, looking from us to the door and back again. "Most of the guards are unconscious, but I don't know how long that will last. It won't take them long to realize we've taken you."

"Wait," I said as we were almost to the door. "We have to get Maeve. Mother said she was down here somewhere."

Xan shook her head, continuing to tug me toward the exit. "I have no idea where she is. They won't kill her; we can come back."

"We need to go now, Saoirse. We don't have much time if we're going to help Vane. "

With Xan leading the way, we moved swiftly through the dimly lit corridors, passing a slew of unconscious guards. Every step was a painful reminder, but the thought of Vane kept me going. He needed our help, and I couldn't let him down.

Xan led us deeper into the dungeon, toward the sector where Vane must be being held. "This way," she whispered, guiding us down a narrow, winding passage. "Vane's cell should be just ahead."

We turned another hallway, coming to an abrupt stop in front of a heavily guarded door, three guards standing lookout whose eyes widened when they saw us.

Xan didn't hesitate, surging forward, her movements swift and precise. The first guard raised a flared hand, but he was too slow. Xan's hand was already shooting up, magic bursting from her palm and sending him crashing into the wall, where he slumped, unconscious.

The second guard charged at her, but she was ready. She ducked under his swinging arm, grabbing his wrist and twisting it behind his back. He cried out in pain, the sound cut short as Xan delivered a swift blow to the back of his head, knocking him out cold.

The third guard hesitated, but Len was already moving toward him. He was a blur, his movements fluid and otherworldly, as if he was gliding through the air. In an instant, he was behind the guard, his hand already at the man's neck.

"Sleep," he whispered in the man's ear, his voice calm and soothing. The guard's pale eyes widened briefly before they rolled back, and he slumped to the ground.

Len stepped forward, unhooking a much larger key off the guard's belt and unlocking the door. We hurried inside, my heart pounding. Vane was there, slumped against the wall, his eyes closed. He looked tired and sullen, but he was alive, and unharmed.

"Vane!" I cried, rushing as close as I could get to him through the bars. His eyes fluttered open, a smile spreading across his face when he saw us .

"Saoirse?" he rasped, relief filling his face. "If this is a dream, it is a terrible one."

"It's not a dream," I nearly laughed, my chest light.

"We need to move quickly," Len urged as Xan took the key from him, unlocking the gates to Vane's cell. "More guards will be here any minute."

We moved as fast as we could, Xan taking the lead once more. The halls were eerily quiet, the only sound the echo of our footsteps. Every corner we turned, I half-expected to see a group of guards rushing toward us, but the dungeon remained deserted.

Finally, we reached one of the small, hidden passageways Xan still remembered, that led to a concealed exit to the outside of the castle. She pushed the door open, and we stepped outside into the cool sun-dimmed air, the gentle breeze the nicest thing I had ever felt.

"We need to find somewhere to hide until we can figure out our next move," Len warned, his voice tense. "It won't be long before they come searching for you."

"There are some abandoned houses on the outskirts of town," Xan offered. "Assuming beggars haven't taken them over, we could use those."

By the time we made it to the nearest house, my body sagged to the floor, my back resting against the kitchen counter as every muscle in my body screamed in protest. Xan and Len stood watch by the door, keeping their eyes peeled for any pursuers.

Vane's eyes met mine as he crossed the room to kneel beside me, seething with unbridled rage. His eyes roved over my body, taking in every cut, bruise and lash, his anger growing in intensity.

"What the hell did he do to you?" Vane demanded, his voice rough with emotion.

I tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. "I'll be fine, Vane. Just a little... bruised."

"Bruised?" His eyes blazed, and he gently touched the swollen part of my lip, making me wince. "This is much more than bruised. He could have killed you."

"And he'll never have that chance again," I said with conviction, my own fire lighting within. I was done putting myself at my father's mercy, letting myself be controlled under his thumb.

"I should have protected you." He shook his head, the volcano still simmering beneath the surface. "I will tear him apart from the inside out for what he's done to you."

My reaction to his words startled me. There might have been a time in my life where his words would have scared me or intimidated me, the threat of so much violence so different from what I wanted. But, in this moment, my aches were still fresh, my spirit was still broken. My mind wasn't in the right state, my train of thought erratic.

I wanted to watch Vane's venomous shadow eclipse the world, the deepest, darkest parts of the violence he could inflict, and see my father suffer.

Xan gave me a quick healing before she and Len went back to the castle, wanting to return before anyone noticed they were out of their beds as they looked for us. Vane and I should be able to stay in the abandoned house for a couple of days, until we could gather enough supplies to leave and I'd regained enough strength to make the journey.

Vane would be returning to Umbra empty handed. Unless. Maybe I'd taken one too many blows to the head, but a thought struck me.

"We can't leave Maeve there," I told Vane as we sat around the decrepit table that stood in the house. I'd managed to scrounge up some old canned food in the pantry from whoever had lived here before, and we'd scarfed the sour peaches, not even caring if we might regret them later. "And we can't leave the shard."

"No," he agreed, his voice low. "We can't."

I studied his face, searching for any sign of hesitation, but found none. The rage, the betrayal simmering beneath his calm exterior mirrored my own. A twin flame in a raging inferno.

"The trial is today," I said slowly, the idea beginning to take shape in my mind. "they'll bring her out for the trial. If Xan and Len will help us, we might be able to grab Maeve and the shard."

Vane nodded, his eyes narrowed. "It's risky. We could get caught all over again."

"We could," I said, not wanting to dwell on everything that had happened while I'd been locked up. "For Maeve and your mother, I'm willing to risk it. And this time, we go full force."

"Look," he said, turning to me pointedly. "I don't want you anywhere near the fighting. If I go in there, I'm going for blood and I won't hold anything back and your father isn't going to, either. You can't be there when that happens. I can't be focused on protecting you, too."

"Easy, done." I said, the honest truth. I was not delusional. I knew I was nothing but a liability in a fight. I just wanted Maeve to be safe. With us broken out, he'd probably made it even worse for her.

Without warning, he reached over, touching my cheek gently as he stared at me. It was a move that completely violated our friendship agreement, but I didn't dodge it. If anything, I leaned into it, closing my eyes as I inhaled deeply.

By the time I opened them again, his hand was gone.