THE KING’S CHAMBERS The stairs to the north tower cellars were slick with moisture. Every step we took felt like we were walking into the mouth of some giant, sleeping beast. The air down here didn't move. It was thick with the smell of wet stone, old vinegar, and something else—something sweet and rotten that made the hair on my arms stand up.

"Watch your footing," Finn whispered. He held a small torch out in front of us, but the light seemed to get swallowed by the dark before it could ...