The Eccentric Entomologist is Now a Queen's Consort

The moment the ground gave way beneath Mikhailis, he felt a flood of panic surge through him, followed by a single thought that rang loudly in his mind: This is the kind of trouble I really hate. It wasn't like the playful trouble he usually flirted with—like sneaking out of late-night royal banquets or avoiding Queen Elowen's stern lectures whenever she caught him fiddling with "forbidden" books on entomology. No, this was the kind of trouble that ended with tombstones and regrets, the worst sort of adventure he could stumble into.

He had no time to brace himself. The entire tunnel quaked with violent force, sending stones and dust spiraling in all directions. For a split second, he felt weightless, like the world had gone silent. Then gravity snatched him back down, and his stomach lurched as if he were on the world's craziest roller coaster. Rocks clattered against one another with an echoing roar. He barely had the presence of mind to clutch the Mist Fragment tight to his chest. Even if it couldn't stop him from falling, some instinct told him not to drop it—or maybe that was the strange pulsing he felt in his palm, urging him to keep the fragment close.

He slammed onto a sloping pile of debris, bits of gravel digging into his elbows and ribs. The impact rattled his bones. He rolled once, twice, before colliding with a chunk of half-broken pillar, the jolt sending a burst of pain through his shoulder. His breath whooshed out, and for a moment, he just lay there, blinking past the haze of dust that coated his lashes.

Distantly, he heard Rhea's startled cry. He raised his head in time to see her crash onto a smaller heap of rubble, her body twisting protectively around her injured leg. Her muffled groan told him she was alive, at least. Relief flickered through him, even though the rest of the situation still felt grim. He coughed, tasting dirt in his mouth.

A dry, bitter laugh escaped him. "Well," he said, voice scratchy, "that was graceful."

Rhea shot him a withering glare. She was half-upright now, gingerly testing her leg. Her posture was tense, like she was trying to hide how much it hurt. "If I die here, I swear, I'm haunting you."

Her threat should've sounded ridiculous, but the look in her eyes left Mikhailis with the impression she wasn't completely joking. Still, he couldn't resist a small grin. "I'd expect nothing less from you, Rhea."

Somewhere to his left, Lira dusted off her coat in that infuriatingly elegant way of hers. Even covered in debris, she managed to look like a noble lady who had simply encountered a slight inconvenience on her way to a ball. Her tall, slender frame cast a vague shadow against the flicker of runes still glowing in the walls behind them. "That makes your count of near-death experiences… what, seven this week?"

Mikhailis pretended to think hard. "Eight," he corrected, pushing himself up with a subdued groan. "You're forgetting the time with the exploding wine barrel."

Rhea snorted, lips twisting in exasperation. "Why do I follow you around?"

"Because I'm charming," he quipped, hobbling closer to her. He offered her his arm, and she allowed him to support a fraction of her weight, though her pride seemed to fight that idea every step of the way. "And because you'd be bored out of your mind if you stayed in the palace, obviously."

Rhea rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure. This is exactly my idea of a fun night—nearly getting crushed to death in some creepy, ancient ruin."

Lira stepped forward, eyeing the way Rhea stood. Concern etched faint lines on her otherwise composed face. "You shouldn't walk on that leg," she murmured, her tone gentle but insistent. "You'll only make the injury worse."

Rhea wiped sweat from her brow, refusing to meet Lira's gaze. "Unless you've got a magical bandage hidden up your sleeves, I don't have much of a choice. We have to move."

Mikhailis eased Rhea's arm around his shoulders, taking more of her weight. "The good news is we're still breathing," he said, trying to put a positive spin on the situation. Even so, fear gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. "Bad news is we're deeper underground than ever, and if these quakes keep up, we'll be buried."

Almost as if on cue, the stone walls trembled again, sending a shower of pebbles clattering around them. Dust billowed, making each breath feel thick and gritty. Mikhailis coughed, covering his mouth with a sleeve. The air tasted stale and damp, like it had been locked away for centuries.

In his free hand, he still gripped the Mist Fragment. Its glow pulsed in a faint rhythm, and wisps of mist trailed from its surface, coiling around his fingers. The sensation reminded him of a curious pet trying to get comfortable in its owner's arms. This thing is getting way too comfortable with me, he thought. There was a warmth in it, like the fragment itself was alive—or at least aware.

An unwelcome whisper brushed his mind, too subtle to form words, but enough to make the hair at the back of his neck prickle. He wondered if Lira and Rhea could sense it too or if it was just his bond with this artifact.

Rhea shifted, exhaling sharply. "My leg's not going to cooperate, but I'd rather crawl than wait around here."

Mikhailis nodded, swallowing. The occasional flashes of pain in his own back told him he wasn't in great shape either, but he'd rather not complain and make the mood worse. "You always did like a challenge," he said, managing a teasing wink at her. She huffed in response but didn't push him away.

Lira was already scanning the surroundings with the keen focus of a trained observer. Her eyes flicked over the carved runes on the walls—odd symbols that looked older than the ones they'd seen above. "These markings," she said softly, "they don't match the typical catacomb architecture. They feel… ancient."

Mikhailis raised a brow, peering at a deep etching near his shoulder. It looked like a spiral with lines branching off, reminiscent of a tree's roots or veins in a leaf. "You're saying everything up above wasn't old?"

Lira gave a small shrug. "It was old. This is older. Could be centuries, maybe more." She paused, her hand brushing a patch of moss that clung to the stone. "The question is, why build over it?"

Rhea snorted. "Better question: how do we get out?"

"Both important questions," Mikhailis said, his voice echoing slightly in the cramped tunnel. He tried to peer ahead, but the path was half hidden behind jagged pieces of rock. Another quake, even a small one, might seal the way forever. He didn't relish that thought.

He felt a cold breeze drift through the corridor, carrying a faint metallic tang. It made him shiver. The glow from the fragment brightened for an instant, as though reacting to the shift in air currents. Something's guiding us, he realized. Whether that guidance was good or bad, he couldn't say.

They started forward, every step a careful negotiation with the uncertain ground. Rhea leaned on him more than he expected, biting her lip each time she put weight on her injured leg. He kept his arm firmly around her waist, trying to steady her. It was strange—he was used to seeing Rhea as this strong, almost unstoppable warrior. Now, feeling the tremors in her muscles whenever she moved, he realized just how vulnerable anyone could be in the face of nature's wrath… or the wrath of an ancient ruin.

The corridor opened into a slightly wider chamber. Ghostly light from the runes on the walls revealed a slanted ceiling, cracked in multiple places. Fractures webbed across the stone, promising they would get even bigger if the catacombs gave another shudder. Across the floor lay lumps of debris, some of it bigger than a horse, random shapes that might've once been statues or pillars.

"Careful," Lira warned, stepping around a broken slab that looked ready to tip over. "One slip, and this entire section might collapse."

Mikhailis took a tentative step, testing the ground. Thankfully, it held. Rhea grumbled something under her breath, probably cursing every deity that put them in this predicament, but she managed to move along.

He tried to lighten the mood with a dry grin. "This is what happens when you sign up for my crazy quests."

Rhea flicked her gaze to him, exasperated but not denying it. "I didn't exactly sign up. More like I got roped in. You do remember how you insisted I come along because you needed someone to make you look competent?"

"That was a joke."

"Sometimes I can't tell when you're joking," Rhea muttered. "You're so used to messing around that I think you even confuse yourself."

Mikhailis opened his mouth to retort, but Lira interrupted, her tone hushed. "Shh… do you hear that?"