Her Cinder Throne (Completed)

Chapter 27

The stairs led downward into the darkness, soon becoming coated in a slimy moss that forced Cole to trail her hand along the rusty handrail bolted to the stone walls on either side of her. She was sure whatever guards they posted for the prisoners must come down this way, but it seemed as if no one in centuries had traveled this way. The people locked below the palace were truly forgotten. People with their rights to being human taken away by the king who held their lives in his palm.

Finally, the bottom of the stairs came into view, and Cole approached the heavy wooden door there with trepidation. A heavy black grate at about her eye level sunk into the wood like a forbidding face, and she knew the guards would be on the other end. The dim glow of a torch came from somewhere beyond the door, and she knew they wouldn't let her in if they saw her. She knew no servant ever came down here for any reason. Despite her disguise, she would still be sticking out just as much as she had in Avallen as a human.

She bit her lip, thinking of the faerie land. Tanwyn had used magic to conceal her there. Could she do the same here? She glanced down at her magic ring. She was still new to it, but her want to see her mother was strong. She had to at least try.

Concentrating, she imagined the uniform of the guards. She saw the velvet of their tunics, the gleam of the breastplates and helmets, the swords strapped to their sides. She tried to imagine every shadow and plane of light, every texture and even the smell. She imagined her face stern and hardened, hard to distinguish between male or female. A buzz ran through her body, and her ring glowed as the magic wrapped around her. A small breeze stirred her skirt, and then she felt the familiar embrace of magic as the glamor took effect.

Her legs shook and she steadied herself before she could fall over. The magic over her felt like a heavy blanket that she was just barely holding up with a few fingertips. It was not something she could keep up for very long, and she had the uncomfortable feeling that it would slip away from her if she moved the wrong way or tried to hold it for too long.

With a deep inhale, she quickly pounded on the door before she could lose the nerve or her glamor. She made sure to put as much force behind her banging as she could, to make it seem as if she knew she was supposed to be here. A moment later, a pale face swam into view behind the heavy iron grate in the door. The soldier blinked bleary eyes, confusion crossing his young face. His very young face. Cole hoped his tender years would work to her advantage.

"What are you doing here?" she barked in as deep a voice as she could muster. She poured all the tension she had into her words, making them sharp and hard.

"I'm sorry?" the soldier on the other end of the door said.

"You imbecile, didn't you receive the orders to rest?" she said. "We heard of the incident and King Thijs barely contained his anger enough to let you remain in his employ... and alive. You should be sleeping for fifteen minutes while someone takes your place, but you obviously can't even handle that much responsibility."

Her heart slammed in her throat and her palms swam in sweat. This was it. She was either going to get in or be discovered in an instant. It all depended on the pale and thin face looking at her behind the prison grate.