First, we’re drugged. Then we’re questioned: about legion capabilities, battle tactics, rough estimates of each magic type, Orsan training, our understanding of Brakkari weapons and warfare, and on and on. I give away what I must to keep the others alive, but I conceal anything I can, anything that could seriously endanger Ronan. We rarely see our mother or Adria, and when we do, it doesn’t last long before I’m screaming at them about what they did, what they took from me. And then we’re returned to the cell to sit and wait until it happens again the next day.
We’re given next to no information, but I can guess when the siege begins about two weeks after our arrival. The number of guards greatly reduces, and they all move with an urgency that was absent during the wait.
Another two weeks go by. Seth’s beard has filled in completely, and Octavia’s head is covered in a thin layer of tight coils. We wait long enough that the sting of Larus’s loss begins to dull for Seth, who was never as close to him as I was. He returns to his normal routine of complaining about the conditions, going on about the lack of bedding and inadequate bathing supplies for so long that a guard drags in two more utilitarian cots, a washbasin, and some soap just to shut him up.
Then one day, the cell next to ours is emptied. Its inhabitants, Selaran refugees caught trying to smuggle elixirs out to others in an encampment south of Faros, are moved to a cell down the hall. We don’t think much of it. Many of the prisoners disappear each day, most of them given the chance to fight for Adria in exchange for their freedom.
She declines to offer us the same.
And then, a few hours later, I wake to the sound of the guards leading in a pair of men in Selaran tunics and breeches, their chains jangling as they approach the empty cell beside ours.
My heart stops when I see them.
The man nearer to the bars has blood caked into his blond hair, but the tattoo on his neck is unmistakable.
Taran.
And if that’s Taran…
The man walking beside him is tall, though he’s walking with a hunch. His skin is a darker tan after a month fighting under the Selaran sun, and his hair has been cut shorter for battle.
But it’s him. Ronan.
He’s here.
Oh, gods. I can’t believe it. What are they doing here? How did they catch them?
“Don’t get too comfortable,” says one of the guards as they open the cell. “The God-Queen is on her way.”
Fuck. We have to get out of here.
Ronan takes a seat on a cot near the back of the cell, body slumped in exhaustion, eyes distant and lifeless.
Did he come here to save me again? Is this a plan, like the one before with Larus to break me out of Seth’s camp?
If it was, it looks like it’s gone horribly wrong.
“Ronan,” I whisper, reaching my arm through the bars in his direction. “It’s me.”
His head lifts slightly at my voice. The hair on the back of my neck stands up as I wait for his response, the air between us charged.
Ronan’s lips purse, and he swallows hard, blinking back some emotion I can no longer recognize. Then finally, he turns to look at me. “You’re safe,” he says, a deep breath relaxing his shoulders. Then he tilts his head back down, sinking back into himself like he did after we lost Faros.
How can I help him this time? What can I possibly say to make this right?
I don’t know what destiny has in store for us, but I know one thing for certain: I was wrong. This is not how things are meant to be.
I shake Seth awake, my eyes never leaving Ronan. “They’re here.”
“Who?”
I point, and he squints through the bars that separate our two cells from each other. Then when he sees who it is, he sits bolt upright. “Taran. My gods, what happened?”
“We entered Faros in disguise,” says Taran, collapsing down onto a cot on the other side of the bars. “We realized somethingmust have happened to all of you when we never received word back from Mama Adama. Quinn flew out to her ship at sea, and she told her you never returned from your mission. We thought we’d find you here.” His eyes meet Seth’s in the dim light. “Or rather, we hoped. We were trying to get into the palace undetected, but we were recognized by one of the servants down here. He didn’t mean to give us away, but the guards were called. We fought, but in the end, they got us with the elixir.” He holds up his hand to show the small cut where the anti-magic elixir poisoned him.
I look at Ronan where he has slumped and see a gash across his chest. Of course his magic is gone. If he still had it, they wouldn’t be here.
How are we ever going to be able to escape with us all in this state?
