The Hour of the Crow

Chapter 11: The Royal Palace

His eyebrows knitted together. "Well, I may not agree with the Exclusivists' ideas of sorcerers being superior to non-magical people, but I guess I owe them at least partially for providing me with the ideal escape route tonight. Two centuries later, and the tunnels still serve illicit operations. How did they even build all of this without drawing attention?"

She shrugged. "Legend says the tunnels were built by ten sorcerers over a span of ten days, but the truth is that nobody really knows. There are no records or plans of the construction left. Even after all this time, it's still a well-kept secret."

Arran whistled. "Listening to you makes me wonder if you've swallowed every history textbook in the world, princess. I mean that as a compliment, by the way."

Her elegant face broke into a wide grin. An odd, fluttering sensation tweaked his stomach in response. "If you're forced to spend your entire life within the same walls, books and stories are the only things that keep boredom at bay." She tapped her foot against one of the stone tiles. "Would you mind lending me a hand with this?"

Together, they wiggled the stone slab out of place, revealing a rusty ladder. Arran straightened his back and gestured at the dark, rectangular hole. "Ladies first."

They navigated through the tunnels in silence. Inna had conjured up a tiny flame in the palm of her hand, their only light source in this parallel, underground world. Arran watched it lick at her skin without burning her, envious of her evident confidence with magic. She'd probably had a dozen tutors throughout her childhood to educate her on the magical arts, whereas he had only an intuitive knowledge of it. A glimmer of hope sparked in his heart at the thought that maybe the princess would be willing to teach him more, if he'd ever muster up the courage to ask her.

Their environment didn't change the closer they came to the palace. Arran scoffed at himself. What had he expected? Gold bricks and chandeliers? A rolled out carpet? The smell of roses in the air, because surely Primsharah's nobility didn't poop in the same way their humble subjects did?

He stumbled when Inna extended an arm in front of his chest to block his way. She raised a mocking eyebrow, but instead of seizing the opportunity to comment on his clumsiness, she grabbed his chin and turned his head in the right direction.

The tunnel ended in a long flight of slippery-looking steps ascending to a single door. So there indeed was a difference between nobles and commoners after all, even down here. Ladders for the poor, stairs for the rich. The familiar knot of bitterness tightened in his chest, but he shook it off.

The endless succession of corridors that followed made Arran's head spin until he gave up trying to remember their route. At some point, Inna whispered at him to turn himself invisible and he obeyed, bending the light around him in the same natural, effortless way Inna had created fire in the tunnels. He stayed at her heels while she paraded through the palace hallways and greeted servants and nobles alike, although the latter category maintained a scarce presence at this ungodly hour.

At last, just when his feet were starting to hurt really bad, Inna threw open a set of double doors and marched into what looked like a whole villa squeezed into the palace's interior. She glimpsed over her shoulder. "You can show yourself again, now. It's safe here."

Arran lifted the spell and took in the high ceiling, the thick rug under his feet and the wallpaper that seemed more expensive than all of his family's possessions combined. "Is this your room?"

"My apartment," she corrected. A faint blush adorned her cheeks. Arran was glad she hadn't seen where he lived.

"I thought the Shah's children all lived in the harem."