I stopped breathing entirely as a soft scuffling noise resounded from inside the room. “Who are you?” A deep male voice responded, and I nearly jumped from the unfamiliarity of it. “Only the king comes through that door. How did you get in here?”
I pressed a hand to my mouth as my emotions spun wildly within me.It’s true... I’m not the only one.I stepped forward from Miron’s side and adjusted my determined gaze at the voice. “My name is Estelle. I’ve been a prisoner in this tower my entire life. Tell me, have you been trapped here, too?”
The man gasped and scrambled across the room with much more urgency. “Yes, I’ve been here for decades,” he explained hastily. “I was taken from my family during the siege on Sybettal and imprisoned because the king took a liking to my magic.”
Miron’s grip on my hand flinched in anger. “That’s terrible,” he said coldly. “Are you the only one who lives in this room? Or are there typically more of you here?”
“It’s only been me, but there’s a very kind servant who visits me daily.”
I gasped. “Mabel! So, she really was caring for other prisoners...” My heart tensed at the thought of the sweet-voiced woman. I missed her dearly, but I was glad to hear that she had still been actively working.At least she wasn’t in danger.
“I see...” Miron said thoughtfully. “There’s another servant door in the back of his room, Elle. The entrance must be concealed somewhere in the castle like yours was.” He tapped his foot for a pondering moment. “May I ask, what type of magic do you wield?”
The man sighed. “I’m an enchanter. I can enchant any weapon to never miss its mark. The king has brought me thousands of swords and arrows throughout my time here to enchant for his army.”
A rush of nausea passed through me.He’s been enhancing weapons?
“I understand,” Miron continued. “May I also ask, did you recently trim your hair?”
What? His hair?
“Well, yes, but it wasn’t me,” the man said timidly. “Another man, one I’ve never seen before, came in no more than an hour ago and demanded I cut off a piece of my silver hair for him. It was rather bizarre.”
A fresh chill ran down my spine and I cast my anxious gaze toward Miron. “Why is Conan collecting silver hair?” The question rattled me as I spoke it, especially since I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.
“I don’t know,” Miron answered coolly, “but we’re going to find out. What’s your name sir?”
“Otis Retter.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Otis. If you’d like to escape this tower for good, then follow us.” Miron turned from the door and gently pulled me behind him. A relieved smile brushed against my lips as I recognized the sound of energetic footsteps behind us.
For five more doors, Miron and I discovered new imprisoned mages, each having been trapped there since the day of the siege. There were two casters and three more enchanters, and each one was missing a lock of hair. Every mage we encountered possessed some sort of ability that could aid in battle or war. The oldest mage, a caster named Sarah, had the ability to gift any individual with rapid healing for up to two days. Another enchanter, named Jared, could alter the perceived density of any item and make armor feel lighter and swords hit heavier. With each new voice I felt my anger toward the kingdom rise, and Miron’s temper was no better.
“Alright everyone,” Miron commanded to the group. “If we’re going to get out of here, I need everyone to follow my every step. We’ll have to exit through Elle’s room and sneak out through the servants’ stairs. If we falter even once, we could all end up in far worse circumstances. Understand?” A soft chorus of murmured agreements rustled my ears. It was strange taking in so many voices at once, but it wasn’t nearly as overwhelming as my time in the market. In fact, the collection of voices almost felt comforting.
“I can enchant our shoes to be lighter so our footsteps are silent.” Jared called out from the back of the group.
“That would be excellent. Please do,” Miron stated.
“I can help, too!” another male voice added. That must have been Trevor, the other caster. “I can gift anyone with enhanced senses and reaction times. If I cast the magic onto you, then you should be able to navigate the halls with far better knowledge of other’s movements.”
A pleased smile crept up my face as I felt Jared’s hands brush by my slippers. “Wonderful! Miron has the most knowledge of the castle, so please place your gift on him.” I smiled in the prince’s direction and a soft pattering of footsteps alerted me that Miron had been approached.
Once we had all been enchanted and casted upon, we began the dangerous task of our escape. Miron led the group, with me in tow behind him, while the rest of the mages lined up closely behind us. The enchanted shoes only let off the softest tap against the floors, and if I hadn’t been so attuned to listening for movement, I would have never even noticed them. It didn’t take long for us to make our way out of the tower, though the ladder within the fireplace did prove to be a little difficult to navigate while blind. Miron essentially had to catch me, to prevent me from spraining an ankle on the fireplace’s floor.
He held me a little tighter in his arms than necessary for a simple rescue, but I didn’t complain. The library was as silent as our magical shoes, so we didn’t linger too long in the airy space. My head ached a tad from the change in elevation, but my racing heart provided ample distraction. Miron led us out into the palace hallway at a snail’s pace. With every step, he paused and listened to the surrounding noise, occasionally pushing us around a corner or backtracking into the library. When we reached a silent spot of the hall, Miron froze unexpectedly and his hand stiffened around mine.
“What’s wrong?” I whispered anxiously.
Miron leaned away from me, and I followed his movement until I came in contact with a door. “Listen,” he hushed back. “It’s Conan.”
My stomach twisted at the name, but my curiosity overruled my caution. I pressed my ear to the door and strained to make out the subtle dialogue.
“After you finish that kettle, I’ll bring you another pot to drink.” Conan’s unmistakable intonation caused the hair on my arms to rise. “I have a lot of work for you and not much time.”
A loud guzzling sound followed, completed with a satisfied exhale. “As long as you’ve got the hair, I’ve got the magic,” an unfamiliar voice replied gruffly. “I can make talisman out of any mage’s magic. Once I enchant the hair, you can use their powers however you please. I’ll even throw in a lock of my own for a few extra pounds of gold.” The man’s sleazy voice sent ripples of unease through me.
Conan scoffed, “How about you do your job, and I only cut your hair and not your entire throat.”