Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
Lory
Khayrivven didn’t lead her to a carriage this time, instead heading straight for the lower levels of the pyramid and down to the dungeons.
“Anywhere specific we’re going?” she whispered, frowning at his embroidered jacket. No matter how often she studied the elaborately sewn patterns, it still felt like she was looking at a stranger.
Khayrivven turned his head enough for her to see the side of his face, the grim expression there. “We need to pay a visit to our prisoners.”
Lory’s stomach folded into a knot. “The Flame-born?”
She didn’t know how much was safe to speak aloud and what would be better kept to herself in these halls, so she used the channel through her mind to amend, “Are they all right? Is Lenya here somewhere? Is it all right to talk?”
“The Flame-born are well guarded. I personally oversaw the choosing of guards for the night shift.”
They turned a corner, everlasting torches lining the hallway leading down, down, down, and Lory cringed as her skirts swished with her movements.
“Any specific reason I need to be in a ballgown for this mission?” she prompted into his mind. “It’s an assassination.”
The word alone made her tremble.
“You’ll be less conspicuous in this dress than in your uniform, trust me. Not even I am wearing a visible weapon. It’s the easiest way to get close to our mark.”
“Our mark,” she repeated aloud as if that would make a difference. In her mind, she amended, “Does that mean I might not need to be the one to kill him?”
Khayrivven’s black waves shook his head. “The Master of Whispers is adamant it be you.”
At the next corner, he stopped so abruptly that Lory almost ran into him. Turning around, he took her hand in his, squeezing gently. “I’m sorry.” He mouthed the words; didn’t speak them. When he continued walking, he didn’t let go of her hand.
Heart pounding, Lory followed, the weight of his fingers both a comfort and a challenge. How long would she endure it without wanting more? How long before she needed to withdraw to protect herself?
She was spared the answer, for they arrived at the end of the tunnel, their path blocked by a thick steel door, and Khayrivven let go of her to turn the knob.
“I haven’t had a chance to tell you I would take you to see them the moment it was safe,” Khayrivven said.
“But Lenya won’t be here today, and he doesn’t send his spies into the dungeons—some things, he doesn’t even want them to see.
It’s the perfect time, since we need to take an underground exit anyway. ”
Before Lory could respond, the lock clicked at his touch, like the one in his rooms, and the door swung open, revealing a short row of cells on both sides.
Only three of them were occupied, and Lory recognized the faces of Olive, Hadrick, and Enya.
Bruises and cuts marred their skin stretched tight over their bones after weeks of starvation.
Olive had an arm in a sling, and Enya’s long braid had been cut off, her thick, black hair cropped short.
Lory managed not to loose a sound of despair and rage at the sight of the proof of so much cruelty.
“No disturbances, Captain,” Anees’s voice sounded from beside the door where Lory hadn’t noticed her, too occupied with the horror of what had been done to the three Flame prisoners.
Lory wheeled toward the voice and found Anees and Hadrian standing in an alcove. Bits of leather armor had been added to their black uniforms, and they both wore weapons belts and harnesses, swords and knives strapped to their bodies like they were ready to go on a mission of their own.
“Lory,” Enya croaked, and Lory wondered when the last time the woman had drunk was.
A biting pain ran through Lory’s knees as they hit the stone floor in front of Enya’s cell. “I’m so sorry, Enya.” She turned left and right, to where Olive and Hadrick were wasting away in their cells. “All of you. So sorry. I should have done something. Should have fought—”
“You should not have fought, Elory the Flame,” Hadrick said with conviction, a cough following his words as he propped himself up from where he was seated against the wall, on the hard floor. His shoes were gone, revealing a relatively fresh wound where his little toe had once been.
Had Lenya cut it off? Had Khayrivven been there to watch? Had Lenya perhaps made Khayrivven do it?
Next to her, Khayrivven shook his head in a silent response; to what question, Lory didn’t know.
“You did the right thing, staying out of it. Your chances at changing the world are greater under the wing of the captain than at the side of a bunch of fire-gifted misfits doomed to pain and suffering before they meet their end.” His voice was so weak—
“Shut your mouth, Hadrick.” Enya might have been close to collapsing, but she still had a hiss in her.
With eyes the color of moist dirt, she peered through the bars separating the cells.
They’d taken her necklace of carved figures, but the linen dress remained—in tatters and caked with blood and dirt.
The odor of sweat and infection lingered in the air, hitting Lory’s nose as she leaned closer to the bars.
In his cell, Hadrick merely shook his head. “I’m not saying anything he doesn’t already know.” From under his bushy eyebrows, he shot Enya a look. “Are you blind, woman?”
All eyes turned to Khayrivven, who had stepped up behind Lory and placed his hand on her shoulder in silent comfort.
“Do you think he would do that if he didn’t care for her?” Hadrick was too smart for his own good, but neither of the women objected. They saw it too, the way Khayrivven wouldn’t leave Lory’s side, as if it were the most natural thing to do.
Nobody spoke for a long moment.
“I’m not your enemy,” Khayrivven said with the exasperated tone of someone repeating himself for the hundredth time. “I don’t have a choice. There’s a difference.”
“And I assume you’re still not ready to tell us why you ought to play by Ulder’s rules?
” It was Olive who challenged the captain, her tone full of hatred and her eyes flickering like a glint of embers in a dark void.
“I don’t trust you. No matter what your lackeys say.
” She jerked her chin at Anees and Hadrian.
“Lenya has tried to sweet-talk us to get information, too, and we haven’t broken.
You won’t fool us by acting like you care for a Flame-born. ”
A rock settled in Lory’s stomach, so heavy it threatened to tear all the way through her body.
Lory merely shook her head. “You can trust him. I do.” It was an admission she hadn’t made aloud, but deep down, it was true. Despite the discrepancies about the matter of his heart, she trusted Khayrivven. “I’m not even going to ask if you are all right.”
None of them objected, at least to her second statement, but the distrust still glimmered in Olive’s eyes.
“Why are you dressed like a princess?” Olive asked instead of commenting. “Anywhere specific you’re going?”
Lory didn’t have it in her to tell them she was going to kill on the king’s orders, so she shook her head. “Captain Falcrest is taking me out for dinner.”
The lie tasted bitter on her tongue, but Khayrivven squeezed her shoulder, his thumb brushing over the bare skin at the top of her shoulder blade.
“I’d love to take you out for dinner,” he whispered.
At the other side of the room, Hadrian cleared his throat.
“Care to bring us some scraps from your pompous outing?” Olive snapped, and Lory felt anger rise in her chest, warmth flooding her veins as her fire prepared to strike at a danger that wasn’t there. But an emotion so much stronger kept her powers in check: pity.
“Any idea how much longer we are to rot in these dungeons before they’ll execute us?” Enya threw at Khayrivven, spitting at his feet, right next to where Lory’s skirts lay wrinkled around her knees.
“You won’t be executed.” Khayrivven took a step back, squatting in front of Enya’s cell. “Not if I have a say in it.”
“And do you have a say?” Once more, Olive’s hatred flared. “As far as I’ve seen, you’re nothing more than Lenya’s lapdog. I wouldn’t be surprised if you answered to the king himself.”
“As I’ve said,” repeated Khayrivven, “I have my reasons. None I will share with you.”
None he would share with anyone outside his circle of trust. Anees knew. Did Hadrian?
Khayrivven’s chin dipped in silent answer.
It would take some getting used to the way her control slipped around him, even when she’d mastered preventing herself from accidentally projecting her thoughts to other people.
She no longer walked the hallways of Ashthorn Ward in fear of being found out, but something about her connection with Khayrivven made it nearly impossible to keep her thoughts from seeping into his mind.
“You will be pleased to know that Lenya’s lapdog has plans for your escape, though.”
Lory held her breath as she watched Hadrick’s eyes go wide, Enya’s head shake in disbelief, and Olive’s mouth form a humorless laugh.
“Why didn’t you tell me about that?” she prompted into Khayrivven’s head, earning yet another slight shake of his head.
She knew the answer: There was no place safe inside Ashthorn’s walls to discuss such matters.
Except for the dungeons, as she’d just learned.
“We’ll talk about this,” she warned him.
“And don’t shake your head again, because you will tell me what the fuck is going on.
I’m tired of being left out. Tired of being careful. ”
“Escape?” Olive’s mocking voice cut into her thoughts. “You’re the reason we’re here to begin with.”
“How many times do I need to tell you I’m sorry about that?” Lory wasn’t entirely sure Khayrivven was talking to Olive. It could as well have been meant for her. “I do have a plan, and Anees and Hadrian are here to help execute it.”
For the first time since they’d entered the dungeons, Olive bothered to sit up, curiosity and perhaps a hint of hope flaring along with that endless distrust. “Tonight?”