Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
Kolt
The first slivers of light slipped through the high grate and cast a warm glow across the stone walls. I’d barely slept. My awareness of Skye asleep on my lap had, no doubt, kept me from resting deeply.
Or maybe it was the awareness that I still couldn’t remember my name without it being told to me or my past. I couldn’t remember any of the things Skye said I’d done, and though I had no reason to doubt her, it was hard not to doubt myself.
If Vandar raiders are so tough, and if I am one of the toughest ones around, then how did one injury rob me of so much? Surely I have been in battle before. I must have taken hits before. How did this one leave me feeling like a stranger in my own body?
I dragged in a deep breath and shifted slightly, my legs tingling after not moving for so long.
I’d spent many of the sleepless hours wracking my brain for memories, but I’d only recovered snatches of them and even those danced just out of reach, vaporizing when I attempted to hold them tighter. I released a sigh.
“That bad?”
I looked down at Skye, who was blinking up at me. “What?”
She pushed herself up and twisted her neck from side to side. “You look worse than I feel.”
I rotated my neck one way and then the other, grateful when there was a pop. “Did you sleep?”
“Some,” she said with a half-smile. “You’re a bit too buff to make a soft pillow, but I appreciate you trying. I’m sure your legs were more of a cushion than the wall.”
“I’ve slept in worse conditions.” I didn’t know precisely what those worse conditions were, but I had a strong sense that I’d toughed it out and slept rough before.
She nodded as she stood and stretched her arms overhead. “From what I’ve heard, your warbirds are pretty stark.”
Warbird. That was a word I knew. A familiar pang of longing hummed through me.
“I remember nothing specific, but I know they are better than this.”
She laughed. “For your sake, and Jasmine’s, I hope so.”
I followed her lead and stood, moving my legs to wake them and shaking out the stiffness in my arms. When my gaze caught the opening high in the wall, I huffed out a breath.
“I do not think we have time to scrape away a hole large enough for me to squeeze through.”
She followed my line of sight and scrunched her lips to one side.
“It looks bigger when you’re up there, but you might be right.
Especially if we want to get out and get word to the Vandar before they get lured into the enemy trap.
” She rubbed her hands together. “So, if that’s not the plan, what is?
I said last night that we had all night to come up with something, but I’m not going to lie.
I haven’t come up with anything better than rushing the guards with our spoons. What about you?”
I stared at her. “I do not know.”
Skye frowned. “You’re not even going to spitball something else?”
“Spitball? Is that some strange human game?”
She laughed and ran a hand through her hair, which had not gotten tamer during the night. “No, it’s an expression. It’s like throwing out an idea even if you don’t know how it will work.”
“And spitballing is an effective technique?”
“It is when you’re an underground rebel who isn’t trained in military strategy. I was kind of hoping you’d bring the warrior ideas.”
That made two of us. I wished nothing more than to recall the training that had elevated me to the role of battle chief.
Think, Kolt, I told myself. You must remember something.
“It’s okay,” she said quickly. “We don’t need the most sophisticated plan since there are only two of us and our only weapons are spoons, right?”
Despite her serious expression, I could not help but chuckle. “Are you trying to make me feel better or feel worse?”
She grinned. “You didn’t like my pep talk? That isn’t what you’d tell your raiders before battle?”
I couldn’t recall sending Vandar into battle, but two words floated through my brain and bobbed to the surface. “For Vandar.”
“What?”
“That’s what we would say before battle,” I said, fresh certainty putting steel in my words. “For Vandar.”
“Okay.” She nodded, her smile widening. “That’s something.”
The morning light had shifted, and the air inside the cell warmed as the golden beams slid down the walls. I inhaled deeply, ignoring the rumbling of my stomach and the remnants of the ache in my head.
“We don’t have only the spoons,” I said, as the gears started turning in my mind. “We also have whatever else they bring us.”
“Are you suggesting we attack them with breakfast?”
That might not be the most effective plan, but then I remembered what Skye had told me. “You said they wanted to use you against me. They wanted you to make me fall for you so hard that I could be easily manipulated.”
“That’s right.”
“What if we used that against them?”
She looked at me blankly. “You’re going to have to elaborate a bit more.”
“If you pretended to be ill, I could pretend to be distraught. Then we could lure the guards inside and …”
Her eyes widened. “Spoon time!”
“Spoon time.”
Skye walked to one end of the compact cell and pivoted, walking back the same way. “What kind of illness would be convincing? I feel like any guard worth anything will be suspicious if I just moan and flop around.”
“I hoped you would do more than that,” I said, “but you’re right that it needs to be convincing. It needs to be bad enough that they’ll forget their suspicions.”
She nibbled her bottom lip. “Blood might do it. I could cut myself and spread the blood around enough that it looks worse than it is.”
My pulse quickened. Blood did not bother me, apparently. But the thought of her blood did.
“You will not cut yourself.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not afraid of a little blood. Jasmine and I cut our palms when we were kids so we could be blood sisters.”
I shook my head. “I will do it. Vandar have a higher tolerance for pain.”
Her eyes narrowed. “This you remember?”
She was right. I did not remember, but I felt confident in assuming that as a battle chief I would be more accustomed to pain than she would be.
Besides, the idea of her hurting herself made my heart twist. I did not want to tell her that the enemy had gotten their way already.
I could not allow her to be harmed. Not even for an escape plan.
“You are arguing with me about who gets to stab themselves?” I asked.
“You know what? You’re right. If you want to bleed yourself for the plan, be my guest. That means that we can’t let the guards get too close, though. And we have to be careful not to let them see where you’re cut.”
“My leg is the only place.” I lifted my battle kilt to expose my thighs.
Skye’s gaze lingered on my bare skin, and then she snatched it away. “As long as you avoid the arteries.”
I eyed her long pants and long-sleeved top. At least it would be easier to hide her fake injury. “You can hold your gut, and we’ll cover your hands with blood.”
She shot me a wicked grin. “Or we put it all over my mouth and neck, and we can say that I’m turning into a bloodsucker.”
“We want the guards to come into the cell,” I reminded her. “Not run away and leave me to be devoured.”
She laughed. “Good point. They would totally leave you to be eaten.” She dropped to the ground and sprawled out with her hands clutching her gut. “How does this look?”
I bent down and pretended to be attending to her, wrapping my arms around her back and cradling her. “This should be convincing.”
“Especially with blood all over me.” She looked up, her eyes dancing.
I met her gaze with our faces so close I could feel her breath. Then my chest tightened as my gaze drifted to her mouth. This was not the time to kiss her. Do not kiss her, I told myself fiercely.
Skye broke the moment first, patting my chest forcefully and pushing me away. “Time to get bloody, big guy.”