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Grey’s chewing slowed as the fork clinked against the edge of the ceramic plate. He shook his head and looked away when the guard took it. “When can I leave?” he asked, swallowing the bitter remnants.
The guard’s footsteps stopped before Grey glanced over to find one hand on the doorknob. “I was informed by the captain to keep you comfortable for now since there are a couple others that need tending to.”
“And then you’ll let me go?” Grey prodded, unable to weed the hope out of the question.
That beat of hesitation told him all he needed to know: he wasn’t going anywhere.
“We’ll see.”
The door closed behind him, and the lock’s final click for the night sealed his fate. Grey’s head fell into his hands, his elbows bumping against the desk as he took in deep breaths. Anything to avoid breaking down in the face of another obstacle that sent him spiraling into despair. Noel wouldn’t be swooping in to cradle him in a warm hug. Cy wouldn’t chatter on to keep his mind off of things.
He heaved a shuddering breath as the stories of Uncle Atticus pressed into his thoughts while longing for charcoal in his hands. Something to keep himself distracted and pacified as he hit one wall after another.
A prisoner.
That was his fate in the end. A prisoner to macharomancers or fair folk, it didn’t matter which when they’d both eventually throw him away or kill him. His arms folded and a sob broke free. Destruction always followed him, despite how hard he tried to be kind, gentle, and respectful, as impressed upon him by that harmonic voice that kept him anchored to the few memories he had before losing the last of any peace he’d encounter.
“I miss you,” he said through tears. “I’m scared. I want to go home, but it’s gone.”
And if we manage to break free of the Hunt, I’ll be alone again.
Grey swiped at his face just before another heaving sob loosed from his chest.
I’m tired of running. I’m tired of being afraid.
He crawled over to the mattress and half-pulled the quilt around him, letting his head sink into the pillow.
I’m so tired.
I’m trying so hard.
I need help.
39
NOEL
Noel paced down the wall of the room, ignoring Cy’s eyes following him to and from with every lap he took until she finally said, “Would you fucking sit down? You’re stressing me out.”
“Yeah, well I’m stressing out over what the fuck they might be doing to Grey right now,” he snapped. He gritted his teeth and continued down his path along the wall.
She folded her arms over her chest. “What are you two, exactly?”
He rolled his eyes. “Why do you care?”
“Well, I’m starting to think he matters a lot to you, or else you wouldn’t be losing your damn mind like this. What makes you so attached to him, other than using him to make sure more of us escaped being captured for the Hunt?”
“We’re friends,” he said, the self-told lie rolling off his tongue before she even finished her question.
Her face scrunched up. “Uh huh… You know” —her arms folded over her chest— “if I didn’t know any better, my joke about you two being boyfriends holds more weight than that.”
Noel didn’t mean to slow, but his heart pounded a little faster in his chest when she struck that assumption. “It’s not like that,” he quickly snapped.
Cy’s brow raised, and he felt the heat creep up his neck. “Oh.” She clicked her tongue. “You like him, but he?—”
“Stop,” Noel said sharply. “You can call me a dumbass for bringing feelings into this because we’re all marked for death, but I want you to know that I was fully prepared to give myself up on that bridge if the glass didn’t work—if only to buy him time.”
She snorted. “So you have a thing for damsels in distress?”
