“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. Either way, doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
My heart squeezed. I scowled. “All that matters right now is getting all of us out of here.”
Biceps twitching, Baz prowled up to the lock to examine it. I didn’t have to. Beyond the familiar seven-pointed-and-barbed crown of Tulon’s crest, I knew the lock would have no keyhole.
“Without a sorcerer or whoever had the lock keyed to them, there’s no getting it open,” I said.
“What about the bars? Will I be able to pull them apart? She’s slight as a reed. I’d only need to open them a bit for her to slide through.”
“No idea. I was never able to, neither was Teo. But you look a lot stronger. What’s your fae power? Is it strength?”
He snickered. “Sneaky, trying to get it out of me like that.”
“I wasn’t aware your power was a secret.”
“Did you read about it in any of those history books you were carrying around with you?”
“No. The authors avoided the topic entirely.” Which was highly annoying.
He shrugged. “You have your secrets, I have mine.”
“But I don’t have secrets. You know everything about me.”
“Oh no, I’m quite sure I don’t.” His eyes brightened. “Though I will learn your secrets. Every one of them.”
My pulse quickened before I got it to steady. When Baz chuckled, I knew he’d heard it.
“You’re cocky.”
He gave another infuriating smirk. “I am indeed … cocky … but I have very good reason to be so. I will get to know all of you, Velle, and that’s a promise.”
I harrumphed. “Keep your promises to yourself—I have no need for them—and focus. You’ll need something to stand on to reach high enough for good leverage on those bars.” I spun in place. One smooth stretch of cave led into another. “Great, there’s nothing to use, nothing at all.”
Also searching for some helpful advantage, Baz circled the cage. I had to pace behind him, since the asshole still had me tethered to him as if I were a fucking mare.
“I could sit on your shoulders,” he suggested.
“Fuck no, you can’t.”
“Not even to save her?”
“You must weigh twice what I do.”
“If we leave, even if we intend to return, who’s to say we’ll ever find our way back here?”
“Dammit. That’s a valid point.”
“I’m chock full of them.”
“You’re chock full of dragonshit, is what you are.”
“Aw, don’t be mean.”
“You haven’t seen mean yet,” I snapped. “And before you say it, trying to kill you—when I had very good reason—doesn’t count.”
“It definitely counts.”
