3
Ava crept on silent feet into the damp cavern, pressing herself against the wall and listening.
A low voice echoed in the chamber beyond. “It seems your princess and her friends are causing chaos in the camp. But they have been unable to find you.”
Ava halted.
Who was that? It was a man’s voice, vaguely familiar. But it wasn’t Andras. It didn’t have his smooth, ancient timbre. It was lower, gruffer. Whoever it was didn’t know she was in the cave, assuming she was out fighting with the rest of them.
Good.
Ava,said Luna.You must hurry. The rendezvous is in ten minutes and the battle is going to end soon.
“I’m getting Cas and then we’ll join you.”
Do you want me to help?
“It’s too dangerous. Stay where you are.”
A moan echoed and Ava’s heart almost burst from her chest at the pain in Casimir’s voice. Her magic stirred again, not finished with its vengeance.
“Deidamia and Andras should return soon with your love,”the voice said. “But I’m bored, so maybe I’ll play a little more while I wait.”
Another groan, then the rattle of chains. Refusing to wait any longer, Ava snuck deeper into the tunnel, coming upon an open room lit by torches along the wall. The smell of sweat and urine assaulted her, mixed with pain and fear and something else.
Cedar and sage.
She stepped into the room and froze at the sight. There was Casimir, arms pulled taut in chains attached to the ceiling. His head lolled forward, limp strands of hair hanging in his battered and swollen face. A rasping breath escaped his lips, his chest rising and falling in short bursts. Old and new wounds peppered his sun-kissed skin. Cuts and burns and bruises.
A fresh laceration on Casimir’s stomach leaked blood, mixing with the dirt on his body and dripping onto the floor.
Ava’s magic nearly detonated at the sight, wanting out, out, out.
She had to shove down the urge to run to him, to hold him and kiss him. Because that man was still in here, standing with his back to her, blood dripping from an ebony dagger in his hand. A massive, wide back. Greasy black hair. The exact same man who had tortured her months ago.
Vazgeth. The Scourge.
The warmth of Ava’s magic thrashed within her, flowers bloomed by her feet. Mushrooms sprouted on the wall beside her. Vines hung from the ceiling above. Almost overpowering, she could hardly contain it.
She took a step forward. “Hello, Vazgeth.”
The Scourge whipped around, eyes wide with surprise. But when he saw who had called his name, his surprise morphed into sick pleasure, his lips curving into a perverse grin, revealing his broken yellowed teeth. “I assumed Andras would be bringing you in. But it looks like you brought yourself.”
Casimir raised his head with effort. The moment he saw Ava, his golden eyes flared with fear, the chains shaking above him as he used what little strength he had left to fight against them.
“No,” he rasped.
She could feel Casimir’s anguish as it tugged on their bond. His pain and terror and panic at her arrival. She met his stare, trying to reassure him, before focusing her attention back to Vazgeth.
Ava sauntered forward and didn’t take her eyes off the daemon torturer.
“I’m going to kill you.” Her voice was calm. Deadly.
He chuckled as he strode closer to her. “I’d like to see you try.”
Bright green vines grew from the ground, covered in a rainbow of blooms, and wound around Vazgeth’s legs. “You think you can hurt me with your pathetic plants?”
The vines crept their way up his legs but he cut them off with his dagger. Her magic squirmed, preparing to unleash itself, but Vazgeth lunged and pinned her against the stone wall, his hand on her throat.
