My hands are numb.
And they’ve been numb for nearly two days now.
I shift against the wall and attempt to rotate my sore wrists. I’ve been tied up since the ambush in the Scorches and, frankly, I’m not accustomed to feeling like my fingers are going to fall off. I huff, frustrated at my current situation.
“Something the matter, Prince?”
She’s perched at the end of my bedroll, crossbow in hand and a smirk on her lips. It’s alarming how much she enjoys this. “I don’t know, maybe the fact that I’m still tied up?” I say dryly.
She gives me a falsely sympathetic look. “You’d better start getting used to it.”
Oh, I’ve had plenty of time to get used to it.
I walked the entire way back from the Scorches with my hands bound behind my back. At least I had entertainment at the time. Eavesdropping certainly kept me occupied on the long trek, since no one seemed to remember that Lenny’s Hyper ability was free game to me.
And that’s when I heard how she killed him. I’d never asked, I realized, what it was like for her. Maybe I didn’t want to know if she had a good reason for doing it.
My eyes linger on the scar trailing down her neck to slip beneath the folds of her vest. She tracks the movement, shifting uncomfortably under my scrutiny. Pulling the collar of her vest higher, she holds my stare. “What?”
I shrug, shaking my head at the ground. “Nothing. I just know how painful that was.”
I’ve been cut up enough times by the king to know exactly how much pressure he uses with a blade.
She rolls her eyes. “Sympathy doesn’t look good on you, Azer.”
“Everything looks good on me, Gray.” I flash her a smile. “Don’t lie.”
Her mouth falls open, and I’m greatly looking forward to what is about to come out of it when Lenny strides over instead. “You ready for tomorrow, P?”
She takes a deep breath, looking composed as she continues staring at me. “Oh, I can’t wait.”
“Great.” Lenny nods. “We’ll set off in the evening and ride through the night. Then, a few days later, once we get close to Ilya, I’ll go ahead and inform the king that we have his Enforcer.” With a sigh, he adds, “I’ll tell him to meet us in the field near the Sanctuary of Souls with, what, no more than three Imperials? That should avoid the ambush that would certainly happen if we all tried to walk into the throne room. We will keep our crossbows aimed on the leverage”—a nod at Kai—“the whole time to ensure that there is no funny business. And that is when we’ll exchange our prince here for your freedom.” He claps his hands together, looking cheery. “After that, we return to Dor and live happily ever after.”
I struggle not to shake my head at them. It’s a terrible plan. They will lose all control over me as soon as I step close enough to an Elite. A real Elite. Not the strands of power I’ve been trying to grasp from this group for the past two days. The little bit of ability they possess is unpredictable, slippery under my skin, and I don’t yet know how to use it.
I’ve never felt anything like it. But now that I have, I don’t doubt it’s been hiding right under my nose. I wonder how many Elites I’ve read who only contain a percentage of power, having come from a mixed line. It’s frustratingly fascinating.
“Bread, anyone?” Meredith’s making rounds with her usual basket of stale bread and warm cheese. Her power pulses in my veins, hers and Lenny’s more potent than the rest. She’s a Crawler, which would be more than helpful if my hands weren’t tied behind my back.
“Yes, ma’am,” Finn calls, jumping over a few sleeping bodies to grab a loaf. Taking a bite, he turns to Paedyn. “Hey, I’ll take the first shift tonight.” Even at this distance, I can see the crumbs flying from his mouth. “You get some sleep.”
She smiles at him, looking relieved. “Thanks, Finn. Wake me in a couple of hours, okay?”
He’s still chomping on his bread when he salutes her, takes the crossbow, and slumps against the wall a few yards away. Ignoring the corner he occupies, I scan the candle-scattered floor casting flickering shadows across the run-down walls and ceiling. I wriggle into the large bedroll, forced to lie on my side with my hands bound behind my back.
Paedyn hesitates before sliding in beside me. She always does. She’s only ever timid when I’m close enough to touch her.
I shift in the bedroll, rustling enough to force a sigh out of her. “What is the matter with you?”
“My nose is itchy,” I say, voice muffled with blankets.
She’s silent in the way that makes me think she’s struggling not to laugh. “Fine,” she huffs. “Turn around.”
With aching arms, I flip onto my other side so we’re facing each other. I haven’t gotten the chance to study her recently. She’s close to me, her body warm despite the freezing feet inching their way closer to mine. Her blue eyes ripple in the candlelight, looking like the deepest corner of a lagoon. I can just make out the faint freckles that dot her nose, though I pretend to forget the exact number of them there.
She slips a hand from beneath the blanket, reaching for my face. “Um.” She’s timid again. “Where?”
“Bridge of my nose,” I say, my eyes never leaving hers.
The tip of her finger meets my nose, and I can’t help but be reminded of when she flicked it. Maybe she’s thinking the same, because after a quick swipe of her finger, she snatches her hand back.
I clear my throat. “I didn’t take you for the gambling type.”
“I’m a thief,” she says dismissively. “Every pocket I reach into is a gamble.”
“Fine. I didn’t take you for the ignorant type.”
She gives me a dull look. “What is this about, Prince?”
“Your deal with the king.” I hold her gaze. “Trading me for your freedom.
It won’t work.”
Her eyes drift across the room, gaze haunted by memory. “Kitt loves you more than he hates me. It’ll work.”
I smile sadly. “You’d be surprised.”
We fall silent, and I watch her eyelids flutter with sleep. She’s unbearable, really. But not in the way that makes it any easier to look away. No, everything about her is a bold sort of beauty, like a rose proudly displaying its thorns. She’s alluring in the way that most deadly things are. It’s captivating.
No. No, it’s terrifying. It’s supposed to be terrifying, still thinking of her as something I’m trying to deserve. Still deeming her worthy of my desire.
But she’s not. No matter what has already happened between us. She’s my prisoner and my mission.
She is nothing to me.
And that’s what I tell myself as I watch her fall asleep.
I follow her—into sleep, into oblivion, into wherever it is she’s going.
I only wake up when something is thrown over my head, the air thick and choking.
I struggle against the strong arms strangling me before my body goes limp.
Then I’m dreaming again. And it might just be of her.
My hands are still tied behind my back.
Only now, they are also tied to hers.
Her head is slumped against the back of mine, hands twitching beside my own. She shifts slightly, the only warning that she’s stirring awake. And then the back of her skull connects with my own, sending stars swimming in my vision.
“Ow,” I groan, leaning forward as much as the ropes will allow.
“Oh, it’s you,” she says groggily. “I didn’t know who I was tied to. I should have hit you harder.”
“Funny,” I say through gritted teeth. “Move closer to me. You’re pulling my hands.”
I can practically feel her eyes roll. “Yes, Your Highness. Is there anything else I can do to make you more comfortable?”
“You are just such a pleasure to be held captive with.”
I feel her head turning to take in the cell we’ve been dumped into. There’s nothing but cracked stone and grimy floors. The bars are made of simple metal, not Mute like I’m used to. Though, without an Elite to draw from, I’m just as powerless as the Ordinaries.
“Where the hell are we?” she finally asks, voicing the question I’ve been waiting for her to ask.
“Some sort of prison,” I say. “Definitely underground.” The stone floors covered in filth are freezing, and the only light in sight is halfway down the hallway outside our cell.
“How… how did we get here?” she asks, panic lacing each word. “I don’t remember anything from last night.”
“They must have drugged us.” I lean my head back against hers. “So much for your friend standing guard.”
She tugs at her hands, yanking on mine in turn. “No, no, no. This can’t be happening—”
“Easy, Gray,” I say lightly. “You’re going to rip my arm out of its socket.”
“Why did they…?” She gulps down a breath. “Why did they put us in such a small cell?”
“Well,” I say calmly, “it’s not as though we can move around….”
“Thanks for the reminder, Azer,” she all but yells. “I can’t do this. Do you smell blood? I smell blood. I can’t. I… I need to get out of here.”
I feel her hands grow sweaty around mine, feel her back expand with each shaky breath. The smell of blood is faint, but I’m so used to the scent that I’d hardly noticed. Why would that bother her so much?
When her breath hitches on what sounds to be the beginning of a sob, I know something is very wrong.
“Paedyn,” I say softly. The taste of her name is intoxicating on my tongue. “Paedyn, are you listening to me?”
“When am I ever,” she pants, “listening to you?”
I smile to myself. “Are your knees against your chest?”
“What?” she huffs. “Yes. Yes, my knees are against my chest.”
“All right,” I say slowly. “I want you to listen to me for once in your life and put your legs on the floor. Spread them out as much as you can.”
“Why would I—”
“Listening, remember?”
Her breath is shaky, hands sweaty as she slides her legs across the stone. “Now,” I say slowly, “I want you to see how much room you have. This cell is much larger than you think. My legs are on the ground too.”
Lie. My knees are against my chest, and I’m staring into a stone wall.
“Feel how much room you have? This cell is plenty big enough, and it’s not going to get any smaller.” I swallow before lacing her fingers with mine, feeling her breath hitch at the sudden contact. But then her breathing is slowing against my back, her hand clutching mine like an anchor from her racing thoughts.
“Better?” I ask, breathless.
I feel her nod. “Better.”
Silence stretches between us. She rests her head on my shoulder. Every bit of my being is focused on the way her fingers feel between mine. It’s absurd.
The distant sound of clicking boots has her snatching her hand out of my grasp.
Good. Fine. I’m glad that’s over with.
The man who appears outside our bars looks vaguely familiar with his streaked gray hair slicked into a tail, and bushy brows hanging over black eyes. But when I feel Paedyn stiffen behind me, I realize why it is I recognize him.
“Rafael,” she sighs. “So it’s your greed that’s behind this?”
He opens his arms as though greeting an old friend. “Oh, come on, kid. Can you blame me? No one would be able to pass up the price on your head.” His eyes flick to me. “And what I could get for the both of you is irresistible. Even I’d stomach stepping foot in Ilya for the gold I’ll get for you two.”
“How did you even find us?” Paedyn chokes out. The air has grown gradually thicker with a foul odor that is suddenly wafting toward us.
Rafael continues on, unfazed. “I’ve had my men stationed all over the outskirts of the city, keeping an eye out for you in case you ever escaped your prince.” His smile is giddy. “But instead, you brought him with you.”
The look on Paedyn’s face has him frowning. “Oh, don’t take it personal, Shadow. You may have made me a lot of silvers in the ring, but you’ll make me a hell of a lot more for taking you back to Ilya.”
He steps away for a moment to grab a dish from a nearby table. “I thought I’d bring this to you personally.” He unlocks the cell door with a rusty key before bending to place a metal tray before us, filled with chunks of stale bread. “To thank you for finding your way back to me.”
“Thanks, but I doubt I could stomach anything with this stench,” Paedyn practically coughs.
“Ah”—Rafael nods—“that’s the sewer under us.” He nods to a grate several feet down the hall. “They fill up the sewer and flush it out every few weeks. Lucky for you two, it seems they will be doing just that very soon.” He smiles as the door swings shut behind him. “I hope you enjoy your short stay in Dor’s finest.” Then he nods toward the plate of stale bread. “Have fun figuring out how to eat that.”
His steps grow softer as he makes his way down the hall. I cough, trying to clear my throat of the thick air threatening to choke me. Paedyn rests her head on my shoulder, forcing my attention back to her as she says, “We need to get out of here.”
I nod before slumping my head on top of hers. “There is no way in hell I’m returning to Ilya as a prisoner.” That alone would shatter the reputation I’ve been meticulously building since I was a boy. Every order obeyed, every mission completed, every death by my hand—utterly useless. Returning with a ransom on my head would make me look worse than weak, more pathetic than dying during a mission. It’s simply not an option.
“Okay, then.” Her voice is detached, determined. “Got any ideas, Prince?”
