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Chapter 17

Tahlia

T he dark was like a second skin, so tightly woven and pressed against Tahlia with not an inch of wiggle room. Not even the hole she’d fallen through was visible. Where was the torchlight? Pain reverberated through her bones like the storm’s thunder had crawled inside her body.

Grunting, she tried to sit up. Her fingers found a spongy surface. She tore a handful of whatever it was away from the solid ground and sniffed it. Moss. Not moss like they had in the Realm of Lights and the Shrouded Mountains, but something grittier and less leafy. Definitely moss though.

“Thank you, moss. You saved my life.”

Without the heavy coating of the stuff, the hard earth would have cracked her skull in two. She was glad to have Fae strength. A human with no Fae blood would have been destroyed by that drop.

She looked up, not that the dark was any different up than down. Longing to call out for Marius, she opened her mouth, but then thought better of it. What if there was something down here and her shout made it attack? What if she was now in an area where Durniad’s guards would hear her? Maybe that was why he wasn’t calling down to her. But then again, if she was close enough to hear him, she’d see the torchlight.

Gods, what was this place? Was there a spell on the space that turned it into total darkness? Or had she somehow fallen so far as to be out of view of the hole and Marius?

Shaking the moss from her fingers, she began to check the extent of her injuries. A big lump on the back of her head. Her right ankle wasn’t grand at the moment—hopefully just a mild sprain. She wasn’t a healer, so she couldn’t exactly fix it herself.

She spread a hand over her torso. Her shirt had come untucked and had ripped on one side. A cut bled lightly over her ribs. Her ribs were sore, but not broken, she didn’t think. Oh, Fara’s letters had slipped out of her waistband and the small belt bag that held the lock-picking items and a few odds and ins had torn away.

Getting onto her hands and knees, she felt around the ground. The scent of the sea wafted across her face and she stilled.

A breeze meant an escape.

While crawling on the ground like a sad little bug wasn’t her favorite activity, she stuck with the hands and knees set up because she was dizzy. Standing up only to fall again would be the height of stupidity.

Something crinkled under her fingers.

Fara’s letters! Hope flooded her. Just the idea of having Fara’s writing with her now was a blessing. Her bag and the rest of her stuff were a shuffle away. She tied the pouch around her stomach, making do with the torn edges of the strap. Adjusting her belt over her tunic again, she was as put together as she could be, considering. The cut on her side flared with pain, but there wasn’t much to do about it now, so she continued toward the direction of the sea breeze.

What was Marius doing? Would he try to come down here to get her? She hoped not. Fear gripped her mind, and she crawled faster, determined to fight its hold on her. If only she hadn’t lost her Weaver magic when she’d crossed the Veil…

Maybe she could find it, activate it, whatever. But how?

No, she’d find the opening where that breeze was coming from. She’d get through it and somehow get back to Marius and the search for the crown.

And then a very hard surface cracked her against the head. Her brain felt like it was about to pour out her ears.

“Ugh.”

She rubbed at yet another lump on her head, then looked up. Reaching up a hand, she wiggled her fingers in hopes of feeling the sea air.

A breath of the outdoors danced over her fingertips and she scrambled to her feet. Dizziness pulled at her, but she braced herself against the wall that had so unjustifiably attacked her.

“The least you can do is hold me up, wall. This is your doing.”

Hmm. Was she woozy? Why was she talking to a wall?

Running her palm up the rough stone and patchy moss, she found a hole. She could fit exactly zero parts of her into said opening.

Dammit.

She sat down to cry. Because honestly, she needed to get it out of the way. Her head was killing her. Maybe if she wept for a bit, she’d have the mind to work up another plan.

Pressing her hands over her eyes, she let the tears roll.

“I refuse to have a pity party, but this is decidedly not knightlike, this whole falling in a hole to die alone and filthy thing.”

A prickling sensation spread across Tahlia’s scalp and into her ears. She shivered. What in the…

“Tahlia?” A quiet voice, like someone very far away, echoed in her ears. “Tahlia.”

Tahlia sat up straight, her eyes going dry immediately. “Who said that?”

The voice was familiar…