The Count's Hidden Passage

“⋯⋯Count Airon?”

“Oh, so it was you after all.”

The man who had been waiting in the darkness brightened at the sound of her voice and slowly approached. Only as he drew near did Maeve’s eyes, now adjusted to the gloom, make out his form. Sparse white strands threaded through his hair, marking the passage of years.

The Airon countship ranked among the empire’s most illustrious houses; for generations its members had served as the emperor’s administrators or strategists, laying the foundations of imperial rule. The present head of the family, Edwin Airon, had entered the emperor’s service young, proven his brilliance, and risen all the way to the chancellorship.

“It must be nearly five years since I last saw you.”

Two years earlier he had opposed the emperor’s renewed war of conquest and been dragged away; after that, silence. He had clearly been imprisoned. Even an emperor would think twice before casually executing a central noble who had once held the chancellorship and served as a pillar of the court.

“It feels strange to ask under these circumstances⋯⋯ but have you been well?”

“Hm? Perfectly well, of course. Haha.”

For a man who had spent two years locked away, he sounded remarkably bright. Maeve’s lips curved faintly at the sound of his laughter. He hasn’t changed. Only moments ago she had felt utterly alone in the world; that familiar, hearty laugh eased the weight a little.

It was he who had recommended her for the post of the crown prince’s tutor while she was still governess to the Airon count’s cherished only daughter. Without his vigorous support, the daughter of a ruined noble house with no backing of her own could never have competed on equal footing with candidates from the empire’s leading families.

After becoming the crown prince’s tutor she had been unable to thank him in person—political misunderstandings had to be avoided—yet gratitude had never left her. When she heard he had been seized for offering the emperor frank counsel, the shock had been profound. Everyone had kept silent about his fate, so she had never known whether he lived or died. That he was alive was a mercy.

“More to the point—what happened above? From the look of things, a rebellion seems to have broken out.”

“Yes.”

No matter how quietly a coup was staged, those inside the imperial palace could not fail to notice the uproar. Maeve saw no reason to deny it.

“⋯⋯The Duke of Cardenas, then?”

“⋯⋯.”

His expression turned grave; he met her eyes and asked the question. Maeve had never expected the name of the Duke of Cardenas to leave the lips of a man who had spent two years in a cell. Yet he had pierced the situation at a glance. Mildly astonished, she gave a simple nod. The count rolled his eyes with the calm of one who had already known.

“How did you know?”

“My dear girl, I did not win the chancellorship at a gaming table.”

He smiled, the corner of his mouth lifting. Maeve started to press for details, then closed her lips. She knew his nature well enough: he would take the secret to his grave.

“Well⋯⋯ so it is. In that case, escape should be possible now.”

“Pardon?”

There was a way out? Maeve looked up at him, puzzled. Still—he had served more than twenty years as chancellor inside the palace. He would know a few of its hidden burrows.

“This place was not always a dungeon. When the palace was first built it served as servants’ quarters. That means a fair number of passages still connect it to the upper floors.”

The count stepped closer, took her arm, and guided her to the wall. He tapped one of the stones lightly with a fingertip, then carefully drew it free. A cool draft brushed the bridge of Maeve’s nose.

Where the stone had been, no adjoining cell appeared—only a stone stair vanishing into deep darkness. She could not tell where it led, but the chill breeze suggested it opened somewhere beyond the palace walls.

“Two years rotting down here taught me a few things.”

Count Airon shrugged with a touch of pride. The guards had abandoned their posts for the chaos above, and Grandiel’s private soldiers had left as well, convinced the frail tutor of the crown prince could do nothing alone. Fools.

Before her capture Maeve had slipped a shard of teacup into the pocket of her skirt. With the count’s help she could cut the ropes binding her wrists and flee.

“When you get out, give my daughter my regards. Tell her I am well and not to worry.”

A faint tremor entered his voice at the end. Maeve, who had been struggling alone to free the shard from her pocket, froze. She forced a smile.

“You should tell her yourself. You know better than anyone how suspicious she is.”

The count laughed softly.

“I have little time left. And the passage is narrow. If both of us try to leave, we will lose too much time. If only one can go, it must be the younger, the one who can run more easily—you.”

Maeve could find no answer. Whether she considered the present crisis or simple efficiency, every word he spoke was true. She bit her lip hard.

“⋯⋯I cannot escape just yet either. I need to buy a little more time. Let whichever of us lasts longer be the one who leaves and carries the message.”

“Very well.”

The count smiled lightly. It was not a smile of hope; something bitter lingered at its edges.

Clank—

The iron door at the dungeon entrance swung open. Multiple footsteps overlapped. Even at a distance and in the dark, Maeve knew the figure at the front was the Duke of Cardenas.

She withdrew her hand from her pocket and bit her lip. He had come sooner than expected.

She had believed the interrogation of the crown prince would not begin until tomorrow at the earliest. The palace, thrown into uproar by the rebellion, would first have to be restored to order, and urgent diplomatic matters settled—tasks that should have taken time.

“Drag her out and bring her before me.”

A voice almost devoid of emotion rang through the dungeon. Booted footsteps approached Maeve at speed. Two knights in black uniforms seized her and hauled her forward.

With no proper candlelight, her vision failed; fear surged. She closed her eyes and steeled herself. It was still too soon to give up. She still had the crown prince—her hope. Let others call it a dog’s death if they wished.

If the crown prince survived and could end this endless war, the woman was prepared to sacrifice anything. Even if that path cost her own life.

Only after kicking her straight legs out from under her and forcing her to her knees did the knights step back.

The man watched the woman who remained upright even on her knees with indifferent eyes, then took one more step closer. The Duke of Cardenas gripped Maeve’s chin and forced her gaze to meet his. He brought his face near and stared into her green eyes as though he meant to bore through them.

As the look she turned on him grew fiercer, the man let out a short, deflated laugh and drew back.

“⋯⋯Truly enviable. The imperial blood⋯⋯.”

His voice twisted strangely as he murmured. The Duke of Cardenas lifted the hand that held her chin a little higher. Those burning red eyes looked somehow hollow.

“⋯⋯to hold it so easily in one’s hand.”

Maeve frowned, unable to grasp his meaning. He himself had slaughtered those very royals.

The man who had been examining every corner of her face suddenly paused, as though he had found something inside her green eyes. Then he released her chin and stepped back.

“Maeve Evofil. I have a proposal for you.”

Maeve pressed her lips tightly together. Whatever the proposal, she would accept it if it bought her even a little more time.

“Speak.”

“Prove to me how great your loyalty truly is.”