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Chapter 66 – Through the Hidden Veins
The hidden passage had been sealed again by the time Kairo brought torches and fresh guards to the vault. Not even a crowbar could shift the false wall. Whatever mechanism Lysander used, it was buried deep behind the stone.
"Block every exit from the lower keep," Kairo ordered curtly. "If he's still inside, he'll surface somewhere."
The guards scattered, their boots ringing against the floors above. Elira stayed beside him, her cloak still reeking of smoke, her throat raw from the chemical fumes.
"You're sure he won't just slip out of the keep entirely?" she asked.
Kairo's jaw tightened. "If he's smart—and he is—he won't. Leaving now would confirm everything you've accused him of. He'll come back clean, calm, and with a story to cover himself."
Elira swallowed. "And make it look like we were chasing ghosts."
Kairo grabbed a torch and motioned for her to follow. Together they moved along the narrow service corridors flanking the vault chamber, testing every door and panel for hidden catches. Dust clung to their boots, proof these lower halls hadn't been walked in months—or so it should have been. But several sections were swept unnaturally clean, as if someone passed through them often.
"This way," Kairo murmured. He found a narrow flight of steps spiraling deeper under the east wing, barely wide enough for a single person to pass. The air grew damp, the smell of earth stronger.
"Do you even know where this goes?" Elira whispered.
"Not anymore," Kairo admitted. "These passages were built before my time. Smugglers used them, and so did a few traitors. I thought they were all sealed."
At the base of the stair, the passage opened into a wider tunnel reinforced with old timber beams. Torchlight flickered on markings along the walls—faint, but unmistakable.
The wolf and vine.
Elira ran her fingers over one. "These were carved here long before Lysander."
"Which means whoever he's working with has been inside these walls longer than I realized," Kairo muttered.
They followed the tunnel as it twisted beneath the keep, past broken casks and forgotten supplies. Somewhere ahead, water dripped steadily, echoing in the dark.
Then Kairo stopped abruptly, raising his hand. A sound—faint, metallic—filtered back through the stone: a door bolt sliding into place.
"He's close," Kairo said.
They moved faster, torchlight glinting off damp walls. The tunnel forked abruptly. To the left, fresh bootprints marked the mud. To the right, the air stirred faintly, as if leading to an exit.
"Which way?" Elira asked.
Kairo crouched over the tracks, jaw set. "He wants us to follow these. Which means…"
A faint scrape echoed from the other tunnel—the one with no prints. Someone breathing, trying to stay silent.
Kairo extinguished his torch with a twist, plunging them into darkness. "Stay behind me," he whispered.
Elira drew her dagger, heart pounding. In the pitch black, every sound seemed sharper: the faint rasp of stone, the shift of boots on damp earth. They crept forward until a sliver of light appeared ahead—moonlight cutting through a broken grate.
A shadow moved across it.
Kairo lunged.
The tunnel erupted in a brief struggle—steel ringing, boots scraping on stone—but when Elira darted forward with her torch relit, the passage was empty. Only the grate swung open, night air rushing in.
"He's outside," Kairo snarled, driving his shoulder against the grate to wrench it wide. They emerged into the lower yard beyond the east wall—empty except for two startled guards.
"Did anyone pass through here?" Kairo demanded.
"No, my lord," one guard stammered. "We've seen no one."
Kairo's eyes swept the yard, cold and calculating. "He's already back inside. Find him."
Elira met his gaze. "If he's bold enough, he'll show up at the council as if nothing happened."
"Then that's where I'll be waiting," Kairo said grimly.
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By the time Kairo and Elira returned to the main halls of the keep, word had already spread: Lysander was nowhere to be found. Guards had swept the lower wings, searched the barracks, even checked the outer stables. Nothing.
"He won't run," Kairo repeated under his breath as they climbed the grand stair to the council wing. "Not yet. He's too proud to leave without playing his next card."
Elira kept pace beside him. "If he shows up calm and clean, how do we make anyone believe what happened below?"
"We don't," Kairo said flatly. "We make them doubt him instead."
They entered his study, the torches casting harsh light over the maps and papers still scattered from the night before. Kairo dismissed the guards and bolted the door. His movements were sharp now, his usual composure stripped to something harder.
"Vale's emblem is carved into those tunnels," Elira said, pacing the room. "This isn't just Lysander's betrayal. It's been there longer than both of us."
Kairo leaned over the table, bracing his hands on the edge. "Which means someone in the council has protected those routes for years. Lysander's just the one bold enough to use them openly."
Elira turned. "What's our next move?"
Kairo's eyes met hers, dark and intent. "We stop chasing him through shadows. If he wants to play clean, we'll give him a stage."
"You're talking about the council."
He nodded. "By noon, they'll all gather to discuss the breach. Lysander will walk in calm, controlled, and ready to turn suspicion on you. We let him."
Elira frowned. "You're using me as bait?"
"I'm using both of us," Kairo corrected. "But I'll control the narrative. You say nothing unless I signal. No accusations, no anger. Let him talk himself into the noose."
A knock at the door cut through the heavy silence. Kairo didn't move at first, then opened it sharply. A scribe stood there, flushed from running.
"Lord Kairo," he said, "Councilor Lysander requests to meet you privately before the session. He's in the west antechamber."
Kairo's gaze flicked to Elira, unreadable. "Of course he is," he murmured. Then, louder: "Tell him I'm on my way."
The scribe bowed and hurried off.
Elira tightened her grip on the dagger at her belt. "It's a trap."
"Everything with him is a trap," Kairo said coolly. He reached for his coat, sliding a short blade into the inner pocket. "That's why I'm going."
"And me?"
"You're coming," Kairo said, his tone final. "But stay silent. If he thinks you're here to accuse him, he'll use it. If he thinks you're here to listen, he might overplay his hand."
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The west antechamber was quiet, its tall windows shuttered against the noon light. A single brazier burned low in the corner, the air scented faintly with iron and smoke. Lysander stood near the long table, his posture relaxed, as if he'd merely been waiting for a friend.
"Lord Kairo," he greeted smoothly. "And Lady Elira. I wondered if you'd both come."
Kairo shut the door behind them with deliberate calm. "You requested this meeting," he said. "Speak."
Lysander smiled faintly, but his eyes were cold. "Word spreads quickly. I hear the vaults were in chaos this morning. Contraband everywhere. Guards injured. And yet you haven't sounded a full alarm. Why is that?"
"Because I wanted to hear your explanation first," Kairo said evenly.
"Ah." Lysander walked a slow circle around the table. "So I'm the accused already. No trial, no evidence. Just whispers in dark corridors." His gaze slid toward Elira. "Perhaps from someone eager to prove herself."
Elira forced herself to stay silent, as Kairo had instructed, though every muscle in her body tensed.
"Careful," Kairo said softly, "you're skating very close to calling one of my people a liar."
"Am I?" Lysander stopped, facing him fully now. "Or am I pointing out how convenient it is that these… discoveries… always seem to follow where she walks?"
Kairo didn't blink. "If you have an accusation, make it plain. Otherwise, save your breath for the council."
For just an instant, Lysander's mask slipped—his smile tightening, his gaze sharpening. "I don't need to accuse anyone, my lord. When the council hears that the vaults were breached under your watch, they'll draw their own conclusions. And I'll be there to make sure they draw them… carefully."
He reached into his coat. Elira's hand darted to her dagger, but Lysander only withdrew a sealed parchment, setting it lightly on the table. "A report for the council. Signed by the gate commander. It names a suspect."
"Who?" Kairo asked flatly.
Lysander's faint smile returned. "You'll see soon enough."
Kairo didn't touch the parchment. "If this is another one of your games, Lysander—"
"It isn't," Lysander interrupted softly. "It's the truth. And I'd hate for you to be blindsided by it."
Before Kairo could respond, a heavy knock sounded at the door. A voice called from the corridor: "Lord Kairo, the council is assembled."
Lysander inclined his head slightly, as if nothing at all were amiss. "Shall we?"
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