Chapter 5
Hannah
Move, Hannah, I scolded myself. Every second I didn’t retrieve the dagger meant I was less likely to make it out of here of my own accord… if at all, with how the Grouch King had looked at me. I stooped against the bars and reached for it.
“Oi,” a voice called from the hall. “What was that noise?”
Shit! They had heard me. I had to think. If they opened the door, I’d have one shot to escape, and I had to make sure it would work.
Focused once more, I gritted my teeth and stretched toward the blade lying just a short distance away. The tips of my fingers touched the knife handle, and I moved it slightly closer to the cell door before gripping it as tightly as possible.
Well, butter my biscuit. I hadn’t been quite sure that would actually work on the first try.
I yanked it back through the bars and carefully shoved the knife under the heavy cuff of my coat.
The cold metal pressed against my arm, the blade pricking my skin slightly, but I had no time to adjust it.
Instead, I staggered to the back of the cell and dropped my sore knees onto the straw, curling into a crouched position.
My heart raced as the guards’ footsteps became louder. I shook my head, needing to clear it.
Those guards weren’t going to open the door just because I asked. I needed a reason. Something that would ensure they didn’t ignore me.
I coughed, making it as hacking and ugly as I could manage, then moaned for good measure. “H-help…” I let my voice break, thin and breathless. “Something’s wrong.”
Sell it, Hannah. My freedom depended on this. I dragged in a rough, ragged breath, then forced it out in a broken wheeze. Cold bit through my jeans, but I ignored it and hunched tighter, pressing a hand to my middle like I was in agony.
“The king won’t like it if she dies before he can question her,” the deeper voice said, followed by keys jingling. Metal clanged as someone grabbed the bars.
I glanced up and found Lilac Eyes and Scar Face glaring at me from outside the door.
“What did you do?” Scar Jaw demanded. “What are you playing at, woman?”
“N-not… playing…” I let my shoulders shake, digging my fingers into the straw. “Can’t… breathe… s-stomach—” I gagged, forcing my throat to convulse. Years of watching daytime TV with Aunt Maureen finally paid off. “Please. It… burns…”
“A reaction maybe?” Lilac Eyes pursed his lips while concern dripped in his voice. “Or portal sickness? Is that a thing?”
“How would I know?” Scar Jaw snapped. “You, sit up. Now.”
I didn’t move. I made my body go slack and whimpered, trying to sound as whiny as one of my exes had when he’d had a cold.
“Dammit,” he muttered.
There was a pause. “If she dies down here and the king didn’t order it…” Lilac Eyes said, voice low.
Scar Jaw swore under his breath. “He’ll have our hides.”
There was a rustle of cloth and then a shifting sound, as if he’d strode forward.
“Fine. I’ll check. Keep your crossbow ready in case she tries something.” Scar Jaw's voice came closer.
Perfect.
The lock slid back with a heavy thunk. My heart leapt into my throat while every nerve in my body screamed in anticipation. Despite my racing heart, I kept still, leaving my eyes half-lidded and taking shallow, uneven breaths.
The hinges shrieked as the door swung open, then bootsteps crossed the threshold. The smell of leather and cold iron washed over me as Scar Jaw knelt at my side.
“Oi!” His gloved hand landed on my shoulder. He gave a rough shake and then stepped back. “Open your eyes.”
I let my head roll a little as my lids fluttered. “C-can’t…”
He leaned in closer with most of his body blocking me from Lilac Eyes. “Are you in pain?”
Wrong move. This was it. My chance.
My hand shot from under the coat, the knife flashing in the dim light.
Drawing on past experiences when I’d been in bad fights or chased into tight situations, I twisted, ramming my shoulder into his chest to knock him off balance as I surged to my feet.
Before he could react, I looped my arm around his throat from behind, hauling him back against me.
The momentum carried us a step toward the door.
He choked as his hands flew to my arm.
“Don’t.” I pressed the blade to the exposed strip of skin above his collar. The edge pressed against his throat with enough pressure to let him feel exactly how sharp it was. My hands shook, but I held on, bracing my feet against the stone as I used his body like a human shield.
Scar Jaw froze.
Eyes widening, Lilac Eyes still held his crossbow trained on us, but he wasn’t able to take the shot because Scar Jaw was shielding most of me.
“Put it down." My breath came faster in frosted puffs, and adrenaline rushed through my veins. “Or else.”
The icy air went razor-thin.
“Put the weapon down. Now.” I tightened my grip when Scar Jaw tried to drag in a breath. The knife pressed harder, causing a thin line of red to well under the edge.
Lilac Eyes clenched his teeth as his gaze darted from me back to Scar Jaw. “You don’t want to do this.”
I snorted in a way that sounded way more brittle than I wanted. “Buddy, I absolutely do. Crossbow. Floor. Now. Don’t make me ask a third time.”
He hesitated, fingers flexing. Sweat beaded at his temple despite the cold.
Scar Jaw tried to rasp something, but it came out as a choked wheeze against my forearm.
“Last chance.” I pitched my voice low and steady. “You shoot, your friend dies before the bolt leaves the slot. And if I’m going down, I am not going alone. So. Put. It. Down.”
A beat of silence. Then a second.
Blinking, Lilac Eyes lowered the crossbow. “He’s going to kill us,” he muttered. The crossbow creaked lightly as he eased the tension and set the weapon on the floor, then pushed it away with his boot.
“Good.” My heart pounded so hard I felt it through my whole body, and a bitter taste coated my tongue. “Now, your other weapons. All of them. And the keys.”
He glared but obeyed—dagger, short sword, another slim blade tucked at his back beneath his cloak. Each one thudded onto the stone and got kicked aside. Finally, with visible reluctance, he unclipped the heavy ring of keys from his belt and let them drop beside the pile.
My chest loosened a fraction. “Back up. Hands where I can see them.” I wasn’t out of the woods yet, and I still had no clue how to get out of this hellhole.
He raised his hands and stepped away from the weapons. Scar Jaw shifted against me, testing my grip.
I dug my arm in tighter and pressed the knife just a little more. “A word of warning—unless you want me to slit your throat, stop wiggling.”
He stilled with a low, vicious sound.
“Good,” I said. “Now, you stay put. Scar Jaw, we’re just going to reposition here.”
I shuffled us forward, using his bulk as a shield. Every step felt like crossing a tightrope without a net. Lilac Eyes stayed where he was, muscles tensed, eyes locked on mine like he was trying to figure out the angle that ended with Scar Jaw not dead and me locked in the cell.
We reached the weapons. I nudged them farther away from Scar Jaw’s boot to create space and make it a little safer for me.
“Scarves and gloves.” I flicked my eyes toward the ground.
Lilac Eyes blinked. “What?”
“The blue things around your neck, keeping your throat from freezing, and the gray things on your hands,” I snapped. “Take them off. Slowly. And put them on the ground. Take this guy’s too.”
His mouth flattened. “You won’t get far. When we’re found—”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be punished, flayed, disemboweled, whatever fun thing is on today’s torture special.” I tipped my head. “Scarves. Now. Unless you want me to test jugular depth.”
“Fuck.” He tugged the thick wool scarf from around his neck and then a smaller cotton one that protected against friction.
“His too.” I gripped Scar Jaw tighter, ready to cut if needed but hoping I wouldn’t have to. “Both scarves and his gloves.”
Lilac Eyes glowered, but a glimmer of calculation in his eyes told me he was still weighing the odds. His jaw clenched, and then he stepped forward and uncoiled the scarf. He yanked off the gray leather gloves and stepped back.
I was a little disappointed he didn’t take a theatrical bow. He could at least have some personality under pressure. Oh, well.
“Front and center in the cell.” I jerked my head forward to indicate where I meant. “Lay them out on the floor with no sudden moves. I will hurt him if you make me.”
Sighing, he laid the scarves and gloves down between us, fingers lingering like he was calculating if he could lunge.
I tightened my hold on Scar Jaw and shifted the knife enough that Lilac Eyes’ gaze snapped to the blood welling from the last light cut.
“Since that’s done, you’re going to tie your friend’s wrists,” I said.
His brows bunched together. “You think you can force me to do that?”
“I do—otherwise, you’ll be responsible for your friend’s death.” I pitched my voice higher, my tone bright.
Lilac Eyes stared at me, then at Scar Jaw. Something passed between them, but all I could read was anger. Lilac Eyes set the scarves out so that I could see there was nothing else in them.
“You’re dead when the king finds you,” Scar Jaw ground out, voice rough against my arm. “You know that, right? He’ll make it slow.”
I was well aware, which was why these two needed to hurry so I could get on my way. “Then I’d better not get caught. Hands. Wrists. Tie.”
Lilac Eyes knelt, movements jerky, and grabbed one scarf. “Behind him or in front?”
“Behind.” I stepped back but kept the tip of the knife against his throat.
I moved swiftly as I turned Scar Eyes, keeping the blade steady and my grip tight.
The scratch from the blade tip had left a raised mark, and if I slipped even a little, he’d be in serious trouble.
“Crisscross. Don’t half-ass it. If he gets free and kills me later, I will come back from the grave and haunt you personally.
I can do that because I’m not like you all. I’ve got powers.”