Quill of Thieves

Chapter 11

Sebastian assumed he had fainted.

Again.

Halorium was surely a cursed place.

Before he could feel embarrassed by it, however, he realized it couldn't be plausible because he somehow stood on his own two feet. He had never heard of an unconscious person standing upwards unassisted. Not to mention, if he had been unconscious, he would not have been aware of the heated flush stealing up the back of his neck.

Sweat gathered under his arms.

His breaths hovered close, fetching up against a heavy, thick piece of cloth that had been placed over his eyes, nose, and mouth. All the important bits for regulating oxygen consumption. It stank not of Hel's abyss, but a vanilla soap and his own breath.

He hadn't been knocked unconscious; he had been blindfolded!

His manhood felt a little more confident knowing he hadn't actually blacked out.

Unfortunately, his confidence didn't last long.

"Ow!"

The small woman-guard had shoved him in the shoulder, propelling him straight into the hard stone of the alleyway outside the Halorian Library that he could only assume they still stood in.

"Oops." Her tone was irritatingly bland. "You missed the entrance."

"I can't even see—"

He didn't have time to protest further before she grabbed him by the elbow and pushed him over a slight dip in the ground. Instead of ramming into a wall again, Sebastian felt himself stumble straight through whatever entrance she had claimed he had missed.

It somehow felt colder and darker here. Wherever here was. And though he couldn't see, Sebastian felt stone all around him. Above his head. Under his worn boots. Closing in at his sides. A strong scent of musty soil seeped through the pores of the blindfold and straight down his throat. Something tickled his fingertips, so he stretched them out to gather his bearings. They brushed against the damp rock on either side of him. Water dripped from the ceiling that surely stretched overhead. Close to his head. In fact, he swore the tips of his dark, messy curls brushed its claustrophobic jaws.

They had to be underground. Definitely under something.

A heavy weight clunked shut behind him.

"Are we in a tunnel?"

His question echoed around him. He wondered if she had locked him in a cell to die by himself for a crime he knew he had not committed, but then she shoved him again.

"Your constant questions are rather cumbersome."

"We are." He could analyze the way their voices bounced off the enclosed space. "Or a cave," he amended. "I can tell by the sound of the water from the mountain's melted snow, no doubt; it drips from the stalactites overhead."

A loud huff brushed against the exposed bit of his neck.

"Stalactites..."

Not for the first time, his brain refused to shut up. "Yes, mineral formations that hang from—"

Another puff. More aggressive this time. "Curse the skies for bringing me this!"

Sebastian yelped, his spine slamming into rock (the rough walls of the tunnel, he was sure of it). He felt the girl's presence in front of him, her arm braced against his windpipe, her knee between his legs in a prime position to incapacitate him.

He wondered how badly it would hurt.

Pain hardly agreed with him. 

Sebastian tried to lean away, but the rock wall behind him was, unfortunately, unforgiving. Such was the nature of stone, he supposed.