“We just need to get out of the mountain.” Briar hadn’t expected she would have to talk Mae into her own rescue. Shouldn’t the girl be grateful rather than suspicious? “We have horses waiting. Sheriff—that’s Archer’s dog—is guarding them for us.”
“Sheriff is with you?” A sudden grin lit up Mae’s features. “Why didn’t you say so? Let’s go!”
Briar blinked in surprise as Mae spun into action. She swaddled up the baby then herself, using the nonbloodstained coats from the guards sleeping outside the cell door. She was like quicksilver, changeable and passionate, but determined once she decided to do something. Briar helped her retrieve the coats, making sure the sleep stones stayed in position. They wouldn’t have much longer before someone came to see why the guards hadn’t returned with the baby.
“We need to find a large banquet hall in the eastern passage,” Briar said as they finished bundling up the baby. Jemma had described the place, which sat on the outer perimeter of the fortress. Briar hoped to use it to connect to an earlier point in the tunnel and hopefully save some time. She would drill all the way out of the mountain from Mae’s cell if she weren’t certain she would run out of paints before she made it halfway. “Do you know the one I’m talking about? The East Hall?”
“I haven’t exactly been allowed to explore.” Mae pulled a guard’s burgundy coat over her pale dress and tucked her golden curls beneath it. “They’ve kept me locked up in here ever since the curse painters arrived.”
Briar went still. “The curse painters?”
“They’re two scary art mages who have taken over security from the captain,” Mae said. “He used to let me walk where I pleased as long as a guard accompanied me, but they put a stop to that.”
Briar clutched a paintbrush in her fist. So her parents were still there. She had hoped they might have moved on after securing the stronghold. Why had they stayed? Protecting the entrance of a remote fortress wasn’t nearly as stimulating as the jobs they preferred to take. What else could Narrowmar offer them?
Briar shook her head. There would be time to worry about that later. “Let’s just hope the curse painters keep busy for a little while longer.”
She opened a jar of blue smalt to put the baby to sleep then hesitated, flinching at the thought of wielding her dangerous magic against such a tiny, innocent thing. But their options were severely limited. “Remember I said I could do something to help her sleep?”
Mae clutched her baby closer, the suspicion returning in a flash. “Yes.”
“And that Arch—Ivan sent me in to help you, and he trusts me?”
Mae tightened her hold on the baby. “Yes …”
Briar held up the jar of paint and her smallest, most delicate paintbrush. “Are you ready to test that trust?”
Chapter 27
Archer stalled his father and the curse painters as much as possible on their way down the main corridor of the stronghold. The passageway, a remnant of the original mountain fissure, had veiny walls reaching upward to a ceiling well out of range of the torchlight. The place smelled of mildew and boot polish, just as he remembered.
The stronghold was busier than Archer had ever seen it. The men of the Narrowmar garrison buzzed with excitement over Esteban’s attack, their voices echoing through the broad corridor.
“He sang twenty men to their deaths, I hear.”
“I heard something about arrows of fire.”
“That’s a load of dung.”
“I swear it on my left knee.”
The walls hadn’t seen that much action in a hundred years. Many of the men traversing the halls were new recruits, their uniforms almost as fresh as their faces.
“Think more of the bleedin’ hedge wizards are lurking out there?” asked a particularly youthful soldier as Archer and the others passed.
An older man at his side grunted. “I’ve met enough magic makers for my lifetime. What with those—”
“Shh!” The young soldier gestured urgently. “They’re right there.”
The curse painters paid no attention to the clamor. Archer listened for hints of what was happening to his team, hoping to find out if the cursed tunnel had been discovered. Unfortunately, the soldiers tended to fall silent when they realized the two curse painters were nearby. What had the Drydens done to make the men fear and respect them so quickly? Archer wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
The curse painters didn’t acknowledge the soldiers at all, and they barely listened when Lord Larke tried to engage them in polite conversation. Donovan and Saoirse moved in tandem, disconcertingly in tune with one another. Though they obviously weren’t blood relatives, they looked alike. It was something about the way they carried themselves, the way their hands moved, the twin fires burning in their eyes.
Archer couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for Briar to grow up with those two. Their self-assurance would be intimidating for anyone, much less their own child. Rich men and nobles tended to fear losing their power, but the curse painters were utterly confident in theirs. Nothing could take away their ability to instill fear in others—and they knew it.
Half a dozen soldiers marching down the corridor squeezed aside to let them pass. Archer searched for familiar faces among them and found none. Why had his father hired so many fighting men? Defending Narrowmar didn’t require that many soldiers. Was he up to something else besides stealing Mae’s child?
“How long do you plan to stay here?” Archer asked him.
“That’s none of your concern,” Lord Larke snapped.
“Isn’t it? You’d think you were getting ready for a siege.”
Larke’s mouth tightened, and Archer wondered if he was onto something. “You don’t think Barden could really reach the ravine without—”
“Later.” Larke stopped at his chamber door and muttered, “I need that drink.”
Archer frowned, a chill creeping down his spine. If this wasn’t just about Barden and Mae, what else could his father have in mind? Insurrection? Surely not. Still, the idea made him uneasy. A man could get away
