Draven didn't pause as his heavy boots clicked against the polished floor of the grand hallway. He kept his grip firm on my hand, pulling me right past the quiet parlors and down the twisting spiral staircase that led to the lower, subterranean levels of the Keep.
The temperature dropped rapidly. The sweet scent of lavender and dried flowers vanished, replaced by the sharp, crisp aroma of damp stone, mountain air, and faint sulfur.
"Draven, where are we going?" I asked, my slippers skittering over the worn granite steps as I tried to keep up with his long strides. "The sun is almost down. Shouldn't we be eating dinner? Or resting? Or literally anything that doesn't involve walking briskly into a dark basement?"
