The Heiress Carrying His Heir-Chapter 29 - 30: The passage

Elara’s POV

Later that night I sat down on my bed. Stood up again. Couldn’t stay still.

My thoughts kept circling back to Kaelen. Worrying from a distance.

Physical urgency was clawing at my chest. The need to see him. The need to do something about his wounds.

I knew the dungeon rules. My father had explained them to me once, years ago, when I’d asked why prisoners sometimes died after punishment.

"Delay is its own sentence," he’d said. "The longer you wait to treat wounds like that, the more damage is done. Infection sets in. Blood loss weakens them. Some punishments are designed to kill slowly, even if they look merciful at first."

Waiting until morning could kill Kaelen.

And I was supposed to just sit here. In my comfortable room. Doing nothing.

No.

I couldn’t do that. Wouldn’t do that.

But I also couldn’t march down to the dungeons and demand to see him. Malakor would have guards posted. Would have given orders that the queen wasn’t to interfere with punishment protocols.

If I went as queen, I’d be stopped. Turned away. Maybe even reported back to Malakor.

So I wouldn’t go as queen.

The plan formed quietly in my mind. No orders. No guards. No authority that could be challenged.

I would move silently through the palace. Find where they’d taken Kaelen. See him with my own eyes.

And if he wasn’t... well, I’d figure that out when I got there.

I moved to my wardrobe. Pushed aside the fine dresses. 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

At the back, hidden behind everything else, were the simple clothes I’d worn to the hinterlands. I pulled them out. Changed quickly.

The dress felt strange now. Like wearing someone else’s skin. A reminder of how naive I’d been, thinking I could just walk among my people and everything would be fine.

I wrapped a dark scarf around my head, hiding my hair completely. I tucked every loose strand in until not a single piece showed. Then I took another piece of cloth and wrapped my hands, disguising the softness of my skin. The lack of calluses that marked me as someone who’d never worked a day in her life.

This wasn’t a rebellion anymore. This wasn’t some reckless adventure.

This was survival.

Mine. And Kaelen’s.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I took the crown from my head. Set it on the table. It felt lighter than usual. Or maybe I just felt heavier without it.

Medical supplies.

The thought hit me like a splash of cold water. Kaelen would need bandages. Salve. Something for pain. Something to clean the wounds before infection set in.

Kaelen’s back would be covered in cuts. Fifty of them. If those cuts were not cleaned. He could die.

I needed to bring him help.

Lena would know where to find these things.

She could slip in and out without anyone noticing. She could gather everything we needed in minutes.

I thought about waking her. I thought about asking her to help me.

But I couldn’t.

I could not ask her.

Lena had been broken by Malakor. Not just in her body, though the bruises proved he had tried. He had broken something inside her. Her confidence. Her certainty. I had seen it in her eyes when she told me about the questioning. The way he had tricked her into admitting things

She needed to rest. To heal.

I would not hand Malakor another excuse to hurt her.

So I would do it myself.

I walked to my door. Opened it just a crack. The hallway was empty. I slipped out.

The walk to the infirmary was not long. I had been there before, years ago, when I was a child.

I moved through the quiet hallways. My soft shoes made no sound on the stone floors. I kept my head down. My hands hidden in my cloak. Anyone who saw me would think I was just a servant. No one would look twice.

The infirmary door was at the end of a long corridor. I reached it and stopped. Listened.

No sound from inside.

I pressed down on the handle. The door swung open.

The room was dark. Only a single candle burned on a table near the far wall. The shelves rose up around me, full of jars and bottles and folded cloths.

My heart pounded. What if someone was here? What if the healer slept in the back room and heard me?

I stood still. Counted to twenty. No sound. No movement.

I moved to the shelves.

Bandages. I saw them on the middle shelf. Stacks of clean white cloth, folded into squares. I took three stacks. Then another. Kaelen would need many.

Salve. I searched the jars. My father had taught me which one was for wounds. I found it near the back. I took it.

Pain medicine. My little private classes were starting to pay off.

I needed something to carry everything. A cloth. I found a clean square of linen on the table. I laid it flat. Placed the bandages on it. The jar of salve. I folded the corners together and tucked the bundle under my cloak.

Then I was gone.

I moved back through the dark hallways. Then made my way to the passage that led to a different dungeon. Where prisoners with bigger crimes were punished. This one was completely different from the one where Lena had been kept, they couldn’t keep her there because they needed her to be the threat for me to accept Kaelen’s punishment.

I stepped into the darkness of the passage.

For a moment, I stood in complete blackness. My heart pounding. My breath loud in my ears.

Then my eyes adjusted. Faint light entered from somewhere ahead. Enough to see the narrow corridor stretching forward.

I started walking.

The passage was cold. The stones were older here. Rougher.

My footsteps were silent on the worn floor.

The passage sloped downward. Leading toward the lower levels of the palace. Toward the dungeons.

Toward Kaelen.

I passed openings along the way. Small doors that led to different parts of the palace. The kitchens. The servant quarters. The storage rooms.

But I kept going down.

The air grew colder. Damper. The smell changed from stone and wood to something earthier. Mustier.

Underground.

I’d never been this deep in the palace before. Never had reason to. The dungeons were for prisoners. For punishment. For things queens didn’t need to see.

But I was seeing it now.

The passage narrowed. The ceiling lowered. I had to duck my head in places, squeeze through gaps that weren’t built for people my height.

This wasn’t a main passage. This was something older. Something forgotten by everyone except the people who’d built it and the servants who still used it.

Finally, the passage opened into a wider corridor. This one had torches on the walls. Burning low. Creating more shadows than light.

I was in the lower levels now. The oldest part of the palace. Where the stone was so thick and old it seemed to absorb sound.

Where prisoners were kept. Where punishment was administered. Where people like Kaelen were taken after fifty lashes with a horse whip.

I pressed myself against the wall. Listened.

Footsteps. Distant. Heavy boots on stone. Guards patrolling.

I waited until they passed. Then moved forward again. Slower now. More careful.

I didn’t know exactly where I was going. Didn’t have a map of the dungeons. But I knew the general direction. Down. Always down. To where the cells would be.

The corridor branched. I chose the left path. Followed it until I heard voices.

"—should have just killed him and been done with it."

"Lord Malakor wanted him alive. Wanted the queen to see what happens when—"

I froze. Two guards. Talking just around the corner.

"Still think fifty lashes is too much. Man might not survive the night."

"That’s the point, isn’t it? He survives, the queen sees her precious guard all broken and bloody. He dies, well, that’s a lesson too."

They laughed. The sound echoed in the stone corridor.

I pressed myself deeper into the shadows. Waited for them to move on.

But they didn’t. Just stood there. Talking. Laughing. Blocking the way forward.

I looked around. Saw another passage to my right. Smaller. Darker.

I slipped into it. Moved as quietly as I could.

This passage was rougher. Less maintained. Water dripped somewhere in the darkness. The walls were slick with moisture.

But it curved around. Parallel to the main corridor. Leading in the same direction.

I followed it. My hands trailing along the wet stone to keep my balance.

And then I heard it.

Breathing. Ragged. Painful.

Someone was in pain nearby.

I moved toward the sound. The passage opened into a small chamber. And there, against the far wall, I could see the outline of a cell.

Iron bars. A locked door. And inside, barely visible in the dim light, a figure lying on the floor.

My heart stopped.

"Kaelen?" I whispered.