The Archduke's Songbird-Chapter 314: The Trapdoor And The Tunnel

Covered by the shadow of her hood, Jessamyn walked swiftly through the dimly lit streets, her heart pounding in time with each step. The city around her felt heavy, as if it too was holding its breath in anticipation of what was to come.

Alderic had told her that Prince Louis would be in the northern watchtower, preparing with his men for whatever fate had in store. That’s where she intended to go, to speak to him directly, to find out what he knew.

But her mind was clouded with fear—fear of what might already be unfolding behind the scenes. The Altanian troops were likely on the move, and with the assistance of Jerrick’s mother, they could reach the palace at any moment.

Time was running out, but Jessamyn had a brief window, thanks to the mysterious foresight her unborn son had granted her. She couldn’t waste this precious advantage. She had to act, and act now.

Her strides were purposeful as she made her way northward, her gaze fixed on the distant watchtower. The cold air bit at her cheeks, but she ignored it, focused entirely on her mission.

But suddenly, a sharp pain shot through her belly, making her stumble. She gasped, clutching her abdomen as her son kicked inside her with a force that nearly doubled her over. The intensity of the sensation was unmistakable—he was urging her to go east, not north.

Her eyes flicked to the watchtower, so close yet suddenly out of reach. But the kicks persisted, and with every step she took toward the tower, they grew stronger, more insistent. Jessamyn could feel her son’s urgency, and reluctantly, she turned east, abandoning her initial plan.

As soon as she complied, the kicks became gentler, more rhythmic. Her son was leading her somewhere else.

"I wish I could understand you as well as your father does," she whispered softly, her hand caressing her swollen belly. There was a sadness in her voice, tinged with frustration.

Jerrick had always shared an uncanny connection with their child, understanding the subtle shifts in emotion and intent as though their son’s mind was his own. But Jessamyn didn’t have that gift. She could only rely on these forceful, physical signals, which left her feeling helpless and disconnected.

Her son stirred again, this time more softly, almost reassuringly, and Jessamyn smiled faintly despite the tension winding tighter inside her. She moved through the narrow streets, avoiding the guards who patrolled with suspicious eyes, following the silent guidance of her unborn child.

After what felt like hours, Jessamyn found herself standing before a tall, imposing stone wall. Vines had grown over it, entwined in intricate patterns along the rough, weathered surface. Beyond the wall, thick lines of trees obscured her view, their dark branches creating a nearly impenetrable curtain. The place looked abandoned, forgotten, and she couldn’t imagine why her son had led her here of all places.

Disappointment sank into her bones like cold water. This had to be a mistake. She should be at the watchtower, speaking to Prince Louis, gathering critical information—not standing in front of a dead-end wall, wasting precious time. Her son must have misled her, or perhaps she had misunderstood his intent.

The towering trees inside cast long shadows that stretched out like claws, and there didn’t seem to be any sign of life or light beyond the barrier.

Jessamyn sighed, about to turn back when another sharp kick stopped her. She winced, her brows furrowing. "What do you want me to do here?" she muttered under her breath, trying to shake the nagging feeling that her son knew something she didn’t.

She pressed her hand against the stone wall, feeling its cold, rough texture beneath her fingers. It was solid, unyielding, and as far as she could tell, there was no entrance in sight. Jessamyn began pacing along the length of the wall, her eyes scanning every inch of the surface for any sign of a gate or a door.

But there was nothing—no roads leading to this place, no visible path suggesting that anyone had come or gone in a long time. How could such a massive structure be so completely sealed off?

Her frustration grew as she continued her search. It seemed impossible that a place of this size had no entry. She was about to give up, to return to the original plan and find Prince Louis, when something strange caught her attention.

Near the base of the wall, her son stirred again, urging her to look closer. Kneeling down, Jessamyn noticed a patch of earth that looked slightly different from the rest—less disturbed, almost as though it had been moved recently. She brushed away the dirt and leaves, revealing a wooden trapdoor hidden beneath the undergrowth. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized what she had found.

Jessamyn hesitated for a moment, her hand resting on the latch. The tunnel beneath could lead anywhere—it could be a refuge, a trap, or even worse, a passage to danger. But her son was growing restless inside her, his kicks becoming more insistent once again. He was urging her to trust him, to go down into the unknown.

Taking a deep breath, Jessamyn pulled open the trapdoor, revealing a dark tunnel stretching into the earth. The air inside was cold and damp, carrying with it the faint smell of wet stone and moss. A chilling draft curled around her ankles, almost as if the tunnel itself was beckoning her forward. She couldn’t see more than a few feet into the darkness, but something deep inside told her this was the path she needed to take. Her son, nestled within her, stirred again, his kicks growing more impatient, urging her on.

She hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. What lay at the end of this mysterious passage? She didn’t know, but there was no turning back now.

Just as she was about to take her first step into the tunnel, a familiar sound reached her ears—a sharp, distinct neigh that cut through the eerie silence. Her heart skipped a beat as recognition flooded her senses. It wasn’t just any horse—it was Jostein’s neigh.

Her lips curved into a relieved smile, her tense muscles loosening slightly. "So, this is why you brought me here," she murmured softly, her hand gently caressing her swollen belly. Her son had led her not into darkness, but to a trusted ally. "You’re full of surprises," she whispered.

But her words had barely left her lips when her son stirred again, this time more forcefully. Jessamyn gasped, clutching her belly. His kicks were no longer gentle—they were insistent, urgent. He wanted her to go inside the tunnel. That much was clear.

Jostein’s figure came into view, trotting toward her with a familiar ease. The sight of her loyal horse brought a sense of comfort to Jessamyn. Draped over Jostein’s saddle was the leather bag she left with Isadora. She reached for it, her fingers trembling with anticipation. Bernard must have returned safely.

Before she could open the bag, her son kicked again—harder this time, more insistent than before.