His Captive Sorceress

Chapter 40: Show Mercy

Two soldiers guard the dungeon door, both lit only by the starry night overhead. That's where Giddius is confined.

The palace wall ramparts are free of archers. It's cold. They must be huddled in the guard towers where wall segments meet.

I plan my future route through the gardens, mapping a path between the dungeon door and the stairs on the east wall, ensuring the guard tower sightlines are always blocked by vegetation.

Satisfied with my planned escape route, I approach the two soldiers before the iron door, with a basket of bread and fruit from the kitchen in hand. A black cloak covers my shoulders, keeping my ears warm in the frigid midnight air.

The guards straighten up at the sight of me, quick to conceal the fatigue of a midnight shift. Bringing Mehlia back is beyond my capability, but at least my connection can save one life today.

"A new face," the taller soldier says.

"State your purpose, servant girl," the shorter one says.

I feign a warm smile. "I am Raylia, new assistant to His Majesty Prince Trevus." I raise the basket. "A meal for the convict." The word makes me cringe, as I spent years living with the same label.

Their eyes narrow. "Dinner is not served at such a late hour," the short one says.

The tall one steps forward. "How is a convict delivered dinner while we bear the elements?"

I raise the basket of fresh bread and apples. "If a guardsman provided his word that it shall be delivered to the convict, to my knowledge my task is complete. I too am eager to finish my duty for the day."

They glance at each other, the greed evident on their faces. Giddius is scheduled to be executed tomorrow, yet these self-centered men are ready to steal his last meal.

Both reach for the food with their bare hands – perfect. I touch their thumbs at the same time. My connection forms, and they lose consciousness. Their legs go limp, and I latch onto their arms and grip with all my strength. Their weight is overwhelming, but I slow their fall until their heads are gently laid on the cobblestone. Just like in the Mephian camp, my connection puts people to sleep the moment we touch, regardless of my intention.

With the soldiers out of the way, I heave open the metal door. It screeches as it scrapes on the ground below, reminiscent of the door on my tower cell. A curvy staired passage awaits on the other side, with dim candlelight serving as a beacon at the end.

With great strain, I manage to pull both soldiers inside. The door is closed, and the evidence of my infiltration is hidden.

After lifting the set of keys from the sleeping men, I continue down the stairs. Pulling the pendant outside my shirt breaks its contact with my skin. With the pendant unable to draw from my sorcery, the illusion breaks, and my hair is back to its familiar chestnut brown.

A single candle illuminates the dungeon below. Upon stepping inside, I'm greeted with a semicircle of barred cells. Giddius stands at the sight of me, his mouth agape. The last time he saw my face was when we were trapped in Nepolis – the moment it was revealed he sold me to Lord Reger for a fief. Now I'm here in the middle of the night. He used to be part of the Palace Guard, so he knows there'd be guards at the dungeon door. I've taken care of them.

I approach the bars. He's the only occupant in this fowl place. "Do you want to survive?" I ask.

He keeps his distance. "Was it the council that send you?" His voice held more confidence when speaking to the king earlier this evening.

I unlock the barred door. "I serve my own interests."

He doesn't move from his spot in the cell. His eyes run up and down my frame, like I'm a wolf that may snap him up.