Page 69 of Savage Crown
“I hear it,” I whispered.
“Mind Render,” Godric said, barely moving his lips. “His pull works like the tide. The closer you get, the more it tries to pull you under.”
I swallowed.
Whoever was singing was being forced. And why were people awake at this hour unless Harrow was waiting for me? Maybe he was smarter than I thought.
My chest tightened. I pulled on my anchor, something bright I could hold on to. I pictured Kaelric and me fifteen years from now, our children, maybe six of them, maybe more, running through halls like these. Their laughter would echo like sunlight, their footsteps soft against marble. Whether that future happened or not, the image steadied me.
Val warmed against my palm, as if pleased. She wrapped herself around that memory, guarding it like something sacred.
‘Good,’she said.‘Hold it if you feel your thoughts shift.’
We crossed the corridor. Two Wolfkin guards stood at the far end and came toward us.
“Where are you headed?” one called.
Godric straightened like he meant to salute, then stumbled as if dizzy. I ducked under his arm, letting him lean on me.
“Orders from the commander,” I said. “He is to be seen in the infirmary at once. Harrow does not want his trophies dying below.”
The nearer guard squinted. “Commander?”
Total guess. Wrong one.
His gaze dragged over Godric, the shoulders, the shape of his face, recognition starting to spark. He opened his mouth to shout, and I lifted Valkaryn like I was just pointing directions. A tiny flare of light flicked from her tip, and the second guard dropped like his strings were cut. The first guard spun, grabbing for the horn at his belt. Godric moved faster than his ruined knee should allow, caught the man’s wrist, and slammed him into the wall. The horn hit the floor. One hit from Godric’s hilt, and the guard sagged.
We ran.
The music swelled, pressing at my senses, as we reached the next stairwell. My vision blurred at the edges like fever. Val shoved back against the pressure, and the music faded again, like someone had shut a door.
On the third floor, the air changed, spices and rosewater carried over the burn of oil lamps. A long gallery opened left, lined with top-to-bottom mirrors and glass cases stuffed with jeweled hairpins and bracelets, glittering like they had eyes.
Behind a pair of blue velvet curtains, I heard laughter. Women’s laughter, sharp, wrong, the kind a person makes when they’re forced.
Anger shot through me.
Godric tapped my elbow, steering me away from the curtains. He led me to the opposite wall, where a huge tapestry of a stag hunt hung from copper rings.
Godric slipped his fingers behind the edge of the tapestry. Something clicked. The whole thing sagged as a narrow door cracked open into darkness.
“Stay close,” he said.
We slipped inside a narrow hallway, another secret tunnel. The temperature dropped; old dust and cedar mixed in the air. Through tiny cutouts in the wall, I could still see the women in the gallery, one trailing a shawl of gold beads, another re-pinning her hair, another dancing like her body wasn’t hers.
Mind Render’s song still threaded through everything.
Fury rolled in my gut.
“He’s controlling them,” I whispered
“Yes,” Godric said.
‘We will kill him slowly,’I told Val.
She hummed her agreement. Forcing your will on a woman was about the most disgusting thing I could think of. I’d carve him up for it.
We reached a landing where the passage split. One way climbed to the fourth floor. The other sloped left toward a low door, barred from our side.
