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Pulling away from her, I attempted a glare. She rolled her eyes at me, and then her expression returned to grim determination. “You’re not losing sleep and wrestling with grief and scheming and plotting and looking for a way out. At least not alone. You’re telling him. And you’re telling the others too. Or I’m telling them.”
“Fuck you, Madinia.”
Was that a hint of relief in her blue eyes? “Fuck you too, Prisca.”
The thought of Lorian’s death had hit me like a fist to the face. But I was recovering from the shock now.
The gods thought they could take Lorian from me? From all of us?
Let them fucking try.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The door swung open, and the guard peered out at us. Deep frown lines were etched in his face, his eyes hard. He raised his hands, making it clear he was unarmed. “Take what you want and leave.”
I watched him closely. Even cowards occasionally overcame their baser instincts during their final moments. “We want the boy.”
“Regner will come after you with everything he has.”
Galon snorted. “Your concern for our safety is touching.”
“I will not stop you from taking him,” the guard said.
I didn’t bother asking why he was cooperating. His gaze was currently clinging to the dead men at our feet.
“In that case, show us the boy.”
“Will you spare my life?”
“How about we kill you and then take the boy?” Galon asked mildly.
The guard’s mouth twisted. “Your distraction may have allowed you entrance here, but the moment your attack began, iron guards were dispatched from all directions. You have minutes at most.”
“We’re aware. And you’re wasting our time.”
The guard opened the door wider, and I held my lightning in my fist. His gaze dropped to it. “You truly are the Bloodthirsty Prince.”
Ignoring him, I scanned the room with all my senses. No one was here. Other than the boy, of course.
Jamic’s cage was directly across from the doorway, created from so much fae iron, it set my teeth on edge, even from several footspans away. He was taller than I’d expected, thin, unshaven, with a sparse beard that reminded me just how young he was. His clothes were clean, and so were his hair and skin. Someone was making sure he was looked after.
I looked at the guard. His hand shook as he pulled the key from his pocket. But he unlocked the cage. Behind me, Galon let out a rough curse. Both of us stepped closer to the cage.
Chains were wrapped around every inch of Jamic. He might be human, but stolen fae and hybrid power were being poured into him. All that fae iron must have felt as if he were being smothered. As if he were suffocating, little by little, for every second of every day.
He opened his eyes. They were completely black, no white to be seen. My instincts prickled. We had no choice but to free him, and yet this could go very, very badly.
“Do you know your name?”
He turned his head at the sound of my voice.
“Jamic,” he hissed.
“Good enough for me,” Galon muttered.
I held up a hand. “If we free you, will you attack us, Jamic?”
“Nooooo.” His lips curved, and I shook my head, waiting him out. If he wanted us to trust him, he’d have to tone down his eerie little display.
