Chapter Eight
NADIR
adir burst through the heavy wooden doors of Nostraza, slammingN them so hard they bounced off the walls. He wore his black leather armor with a sword strapped to his back, the top half of his wavy midnight hair tied up in a knot.
Dozens of wary eyes found him where he stormed into the stone foyer. The guards exchanged confused glances and stood straighter as he strode like an arrow down the wide hall. The anguished screams of the prison’s residents echoed through the walls. There was nowhere to escape the symphony of Nostraza.
Nadir stopped, looking around.
“Your Highness.” A guard rushed forward and bowed so low his nose nearly brushed his knees. “What brings you here?” The man straightened,
wringing his hands, his eyes darting around the room as though expecting an attack from every corner.
“You’re the new warden,” Nadir said, noting the crest on the man’s uniform.
“I am, Your Highness. I’m Davor.” He bowed again. “What can I do for you?”
“I need to see the prisoner records,” Nadir said. “Where are they kept?”
The warden’s lower lip quivered, his skin bleaching to ash. Who had assigned this mortal fool to guard the most notorious prison in all of Ouranos? He’d crack like an egg at the first sign of pressure.
“Is there something I can help you find, Your Highness? I can assign someone to assist you with whatever you need.”
“No,” Nadir replied. “I’ll do it myself.”
Clearly unhappy with that response, the warden pressed his thin lips together. “Very well. Please follow me.” Davor turned and proceeded down the hall. Nadir followed in his wake, his steps loud and firm, punishing the stones beneath him. The king was hiding something, and he was determined
to find out what.
Davor took Nadir through several dank corridors, finally arriving at a narrow wooden door, where he fished a keyring out of his pocket. “This is where the prisoner records are kept.” He inserted one of the keys into the lock and turned.
“All of them?” Nadir asked as the door swung open, revealing a large room lined with shelves and cabinets. Glass orbs filled with ribbons of pale
yellow light ran in a line across the ceiling, created either by his father or one of his ancestors to provide illumination.
“Every prisoner that has ever spent a night inside Nostraza is listed somewhere in these files. They’re arranged by year of arrival and then by number.”
Nadir stepped inside the room, scanning the labels, some of them so old the writing was barely legible. Though he had no notion of when prisoner 3452 had arrived, he assumed they’d been inside Nostraza for at least a few
years, given his father’s interest. Nadir had learned Kelava had been the head warden for a little over twenty years, which gave him a timeframe at least.
“Leave me,” Nadir said, holding out his hand. “And give me the keys. I’m not to be disturbed.”
The warden swallowed, but did as the prince asked, placing the keyring in the center of his large palm. Nadir spun around, his black eyes flashing with
bursts of violet.
“And tell no one I was here.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Davor said, his wavering voice barely a whisper.
As soon as the warden closed the door, Nadir sprang into action. The folders were labelled by year, but thankfully, the numbers were still
ascending. It didn’t take him long to find the prisoners numbered in the three thousands. Twelve years ago. Someone who had arrived and lived in Nostraza for over a decade. How had they endured that long? That was too much time for any mortal to survive here and still be mentally sound.
He flipped through the files, finding prisoners 3449, 3450, 3451, 3453. He
stopped, flipping back. The file was missing. Of course it was.
He kept digging, flipping through the rest of the three thousands, coming up with nothing. Had it been misplaced? He circled the room. No, this had to
be deliberate. The king was no fool, and there was a reason he was keeping this a secret. He flipped through the next few drawers just in case, but they
revealed nothing further. Frustrated, he ran his hand through his hair, dislodging a few strands from their tie.
He whipped open the door and shouted for the warden.
“Yes, Your Highness,” the man said, breathing heavily when he arrived a
few seconds later. “You called for me.”
“Come inside and close the door.”
Davor did as he was asked, standing in the center of the room still wringing his hands, a bead of sweat sliding down the fleshy skin of his cheek.
Nadir smirked. This was too easy. The man was about to dissolve into a
puddle.
“Do you know who prisoner 3452 is?”
The warden blinked. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, but there are hundreds of prisoners in here and I don’t know all of their numbers. What is their name?”
“I don’t have a name, and they’re no longer here. They…perished in the riot.” Nadir hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. He didn’t want his sleuthing getting back to his father. This wasn't part of his marching orders.
“I’m terribly sorry, Your Highness, then I don’t know. Perhaps their file
will reveal something. What number did you say? 3452, was it?”
Fuck. Now the warden knew too much.
“They were in the Hollow when the riot happened. Does that ring a bell?”
Might as well lay it all out now. Nadir would have no choice but to take care of the warden, though.
Davor looked up from the drawer he was rifling through, his eyebrows drawing together. “I do remember Kelava had just sent someone down. A
girl, I think. I don’t remember who. They all look the same, you understand.
Filthy things.”
A girl.
Why did a girl have the king so worried?
Well, at least that was something.
“You’re sure you have no idea who it was? Their file appears to be
missing. You know nothing about this?”
“Sorry, Your Highness. Missing?”
Nadir believed the man was sorry. The worry on his face was clear, and the desire to please was obvious. Nadir believed Davor would have revealed what he knew if he could have.
“This is very peculiar,” the warden said. “I’ll have to open an investigation to look into this. This shouldn’t be missing. Nostraza maintains impeccable records.”
Nadir stepped forward. He towered over Davor, and the man cowered at the stormy look on his face. “I apologize, Your Highness. I’ve only just taken this job, but I assure you, we’ll sort this out and ensure it doesn’t happen again.” Davor trembled, entirely mistaking the reason for Nadir’s ire. He didn’t give a fuck about Nostraza’s record keeping.
“Where is the Hollow?” Nadir asked.
“The Hollow?”
“Where the prisoner was kept. Where is it?”
“In the forest, just past the northern gate. I can show you.” The warden was speaking quickly now, perhaps sensing things were about to go very poorly
for him.
“I apologize for this,” Nadir said, though he didn’t really sound that sorry.
A moment later, the warden’s eyes widened as ribbons of colorful light
peeled off Nadir and circled the man. A crimson thread, the width of a finger, slid past his lips and down his throat. Davor whimpered as Nadir pulled the
light down through his esophagus, wrapping it around the guard’s heart before he squeezed. The warden gaped, his mouth opening, only a gurgle
coming out.
“Your Highness,” he choked. “Please.”
Nadir squeezed harder while the warden’s face turned blue and then his heart burst inside his chest with a mushy throb. He collapsed to the ground,
skin already turning grey as Nadir’s threads of magic dissolved in the air. He toed the man’s foot with his boot. It was a shame. Two wardens in two days.
This prison really had a problem.
Rolling his shoulders, Nadir opened the door and retraced his path. When he passed a pair of guards waiting at the end of the hall, he called to them.
“Your warden had a heart attack. Better go check on him.” He thumbed in the direction over his shoulder, not even pausing his steps. He heard the guards take off running as he stalked through the prison. He was the crown prince and The Aurora’s Primary. No one would question him. As for his presence here—well, his father had ordered him to search the forest. Nadir had just made a little detour beforehand.
“Where is the north gate?” Nadir asked another guard, his voice hard and his expression harder. The trembling man rattled off a set of directions.
Continuing his quest, Nadir marched through the damp stone halls, the ever- present sounds of the prisoners moaning and screaming evident through the thick walls. He curled his lip. This place was an abomination. Someone ought
to raze it to the ground. Perhaps once he was king, he’d do just that. But then, where would all these human degenerates go?
A girl.
A girl who had been here for twelve years. Unless she’d been a toddler when she’d arrived, Nadir reasoned, she must at least be a young woman if
Davor had referred to her as a girl. How had she survived this long in Nostraza? The usual life expectancy was no more than a few years at best.
And more importantly, why had his father been interested enough to have Kelava keep an eye on her?
Nadir burst through the northern doors, making his way across the courtyard, his boots crunching on the gravel. Guards watched him from the
walls, their expressions cautious. It was understandable. Nadir and the king rarely ventured behind the walls of Nostraza.
When he found the north gate, he asked again for the way to the Hollow and a few minutes later found himself standing over it, looking down into the small, dark space. He dropped into it, light on his feet. A mortal would be trapped here, especially given the soft crumbling texture of the walls, but for a High Fae, it was an easy jump.
Nadir crouched on his haunches and searched for clues. Whatever blood had been here had already soaked into the earth. He took a deep inhale, noting the smell of what must’ve been the girl. It was sweet and fresh, and something nudged at the edges of a memory he couldn’t place. Nadir closed
his eyes, taking another long deep breath, and frowned.
There was the distinct smell of the girl, no doubt, but there was something else. Another smell he almost recognized. A scent that someone had tried to cover up? The twist of something familiar combined with something designed to obscure it. But they hadn’t quite succeeded.
What he didn’t smell was any trace of the ozziller Kelava had been so sure about. No, something else had taken the girl. Nadir stood, running his hands along the walls, as if to read them for hints with his fingers.
Someone else had been here. Someone from another court.
Another High Fae.
