Few people knew of the existence of this underground level and that is precisely why Beck chose it. Seeping stone walls lined either side of the musty, winding corridor. At some sections, enough water trickled through to pool on the ground in small puddles. Beck’s cloak billowed out behind him as he strode forward with a lighted torch gripped in one hand. He clenched his jaw in determination. For this, he was not the Prince of Iserlohn. He was Mage. And, that razor’s edge could be damned. The arched door he sought came into view and he thrust his hand out in front of him. “Operio!” The door crashed open and he ducked through. Heat crushed down on him in the stagnant, tiny room, stealing his breath. His two prisoners sat tied to wooden chairs. Their eyes widened above their gags when they saw him. The woman made small whimpering noises, but the man remained resolutely silent.
What do You think about An Oath Of The Kings (Book 4)?
