43. Chapter Forty-Three
Consciousness blurred in and out of darkness throughout the hours. When I garnered the energy, I lifted my head slowly and tried to make note of every shadow, every glistening object that contrasted it, every noise.
My gaze dragged against the ground to the dark cell across from me. I was near the doors that divided me from the exit, and if my memory served me well…
“Cas?” I rasped. I kicked my feet, a shock of pain shooting up my arms. I howled out and stilled every bone until it was tense, frozen in place so the hanging cuffs would stop swinging. The metal was digging into my skin, and now that I was fully awake, the pain was unfathomable. “What are you doing here?”
They did this on purpose. They strung me up across from Casynox so we were forced to stare at each other—so we were forced to endure together. For a long while, I’d wondered if those silver chains had gotten to him. It was too silent.
But then, he coughed. “Lyra.”
That was all he said, and I knew it was all he could say. I groaned and let my head swing forward, hair falling into my face. I stretched my fingers, wondering if I could slip free of the cuffs or if I was at the mercy of gravity slowly tugging me closer to the ground.
“We have to get out of here, Casynox,” I rasped as I lifted my head. “I need you to stay with me.”
Flashes of the morning he’d stolen me from the carriage overwhelmed my mind. I’d only seen him in that bestial form once before—in a former life, I would have hoped to never see it again, but now, I needed his wrath. I needed that sort of strength.
“I’m here,” he rasped so quietly, I could have mistaken it for the wind. “There’s a…key. In t-the cabinet near you.”
I averted my gaze slowly, stopping on the right side of the room where a slender cabinet rested against the wall. It was locked, but a lock hadn’t ever stopped me before. Breathing out slowly, I chewed on my lip. There were guards on the other side of those doors, I knew it, waiting for one of us to make a stupid move, but stupidity was what I needed right now. I needed to be rash. If we wanted to survive, we couldn’t stop to think.
We just needed to act. I raised my focus to the ceiling, searching for anything that could be used to cut through the thick rope. It was going to take time, effort, but I could saw my way free. There were ragged shards of metal too far away from old chains that had since been broken, but in the corner, there was a metal wall hook with sharp, jagged edges. It was too close to my wrists for comfort, but it was the only thing sharp enough in swinging distance.
I chewed on my tongue and took a deep breath. I swung once, twice—back and forth, back and forth. My momentum picked up, and eventually, the rope just above my wrist started to snag on the metal pieces sticking off the edges.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Over and over and over—the rope was starting to fray. I was swinging with such force, my feet were starting to hit the wall nearest the hook, but I used it to swing me back harder. Faster. The pieces of metal scraped my fingers, the sides of my hand, sticking into the bone of my wrist every few passes, but the pain was worth it.
I watched more threads come loose.
Back and forth.
I bit my tongue to conceal the cries. Blood trickled from the pinprick sized cuts in my skin from the force, and the stiff cuffs on my wrists that had to have been dampening my magic were starting to tear the tiny cuts further apart.
“You’ve got this,” Cas rasped. His voice was far too weak—far too quiet. I worried the silver chains had already done their damage.
I whined as the sharp edges sliced through my skin, my body jolting and spiraling out of control. I spun around and around, so many times until I was dizzy and unsure which way was which. But as I twisted, the rope snapped, and my knees cracked on the ground.
The air was knocked out of me as I rolled onto my side, tears spilling from my eyes—partially in pain, partially in relief. I stared at the frayed rope in awe, wondering how much noise that’d made.
Wondering how much time I had.
I wobbled onto my feet, my ankles and wrists still bound by these wretched cuffs. There was a rickety table full of tools—it wouldn’t hold the door long, but I knew I was about to make too much noise.
So, I pushed it. The wood scratched against the floor, and some of the tools clattered to the ground. I could hear the guard’s keys on the other side jingle as they neared, so I pushed faster. The table had all but fallen apart, but I lodged it under the handle so the intricate filigree on the backing caught the knob each time it spun.
I wanted to collapse in front of his cell and tell him I was here, to assess how badly he was injured, but I aimed for the cabinet instead, taking hold of the lock in my hand. My magic was still dampened, but I had to find a way to break it free.
I couldn’t melt it like I did in the Night Court when I broke through the window.
Cursing under my breath, I spun around and looked all around the room. The tools weren’t strong enough to break the lock, but as my gaze lingered on the ground, I saw cracked stone. Rusty metal might not do it, but rock would.
I wobbled over to it and fell to my knees, wincing when another wave of pain rocked through my legs at the impact. I clawed at the cracked floor until my fingers started bleeding, until the skin was raw and ruined, but as soon as I had a chunk big enough to count, I found my way back on my feet and hopped over to it. This was going to make sound.
A lot of it.
More than I had already made.
The guard was jamming his shoulder into the door, and every time I heard him curse, I slammed the lock. My aim was poor, but I hit it repeatedly until it finally smashed open. The cabinet was full of supplies—cufflinks, metal cups, pincers—
Serrated blades. Metal tongs. Rods. A whip.
I choked on my gasp and pushed everything to the side in search of this key. There was so much metal, so much glimmering sheen against stark shadows, but eventually, through the terror and blurred vision, my finger hooked around a rusty keyring. I let out a shriek and immediately lunged toward his cell. My body was fighting against me, knees buckling at the sight of Casynox, bloodied, sweaty, ruined.
The chains had scarred his arms, and that normal silvery glint in his eyes had vanished.
“Come on, Cas. I said to stay with me,” I rasped, jumping every time the table scooted further away from the door. I had seconds. Seconds. There were at least ten keys on this ring, and I’d only gotten through four by the time the guard rammed the door open and tackled me to the ground.
I cried out, the keys flying from my hands. My head smashed against the hard ground, and for a moment, I saw nothing but stars.
“Let off her,” came a deep voice.
I rolled my head side to side, trying to blink past the dizziness. The guard was soon replaced by a vision I hadn’t seen in so long, a face I hoped to never see again.
Novus kneeled and smiled down at me. “Hi, witchling. You’ve gotten stronger, haven’t you?”
I spat up at him, bloody spit dripping off his chin.
He wiped it away with a scowl and grabbed me by the cuffs to pull me up. “Bitchier, too. That’s fine. It’s time to play a game, anyway.”