Descendants of the Kings (Book 2)

46.2: The privilege of pride

Cedric passed over a thick pile of parchment, and instantly Grayson recognised his sister's handwriting. He took it in hand and eagerly ran his eyes over the words.

His sister wrote the way she spoke—clipped and dry-cut, devoid of much flourish. As if she wanted to make the horrors she wrote of easier to stomach. Still, Grayson could palpably feel the pain that she'd written them with. It permeated her entire letter, so deep, he could feel the ache of it in his bones.

By the time he was finished, he was cold and clammy, shaking. He surfaced, looking up dazedly. William was gone, Grayson hadn't even heard him leave in the first place. Across from him, Cedric stared at him, silent and stony. He hadn't uttered a word in the several minutes Grayson had taken to read the letter.

Grayson settled the parchment on the desk. Licked his dry lips and cleared his throat. "Have the families been notified?" he managed to ask, his voice hoarse.

"No. We don't know if we should. We dug up the grave to see for ourselves and—" Cedric cut himself off, his skin taking on a waxy green shade.

Grayson nodded profusely. He'd read the letter. His sister had used the word "hides". Skin, that was what Thomas had said. All that was left of those poor people was skin.

"We have to," Grayson said monotonely. "Eventually, when this all calms down. We should hold a proper funeral for those who wish to pay respects."

Cedric nodded silently, looking somewhere far off. He still had that thousand-yard stare.

"This was in Glendale?" Grayson asked, picking up the makeshift map that had been included with the letter, the bordering town circled in red.

"Mhm. But it's not quite all of it," Cedric said. "Remember that map of the mines you had Thomas draw?"

"Yes, I remember Glendale was near one of those new shafts they had workers build," Grayson said, searching his desk for the map in question. "It was one of those places we were suspicious about."

"With good reason. It's not just extra rooms that were added to the mines—there are entire tunnels down there. They go on for miles," Cedric said, reaching forward and dragging a finger across the map Thomas had made.

"We weren't able to enter this one, as Ella had warned it she had to collapse it, but we did find another entrance a couple of miles away. Hell," he shook his head, "These new tunnels run all across the main mining system. We weren't able to find much, but it's clear there have been... people, things, moving down there. Using the mines as escape tunnels."

"It's been right under our noses all along," he added morosely. "We wondered why we couldn't find these people, how they disappeared so quickly. This is the answer. The mines. They've been using tunnels to move around, undetected. Thomas... it's what he feels worst about," Cedric sighed. "They made the workers dig the very tunnels that would later be used to imprison their families and friends. It's fucking ghastly."

Grayson took a deep breath, rubbing his temples. He didn't know what to say. Least of all to Thomas.

"How big do you think these tunnels are?" Grayson asked, looking at the map. They'd counted fifteen new shafts created across the mountain range, but that might just have been the tip of it.

"Shit, I don't know. It's hard to tell. Without the proper equipment, it's impossible to access these closed-off areas," Cedric muttered. "But I'm willing to bet it extends far. Maybe even past the border, into the forest. Ella mentioned many of these demons are seeping into the forests of Faerie as well."

Grayson leaned back in his seat, head churning. "Do you reckon there are more people down there? Alive?"

He said the last part tentatively, hopefully. According to the letter, there were a few dozen in the death count, and that meant there were still a few hundred missing.