Page 20 of Where We Belong

“I can’t reach it,” I rasp.

His body remains frozen. He doesn’t so much as try to wipe away the blood trickling into his eyes from the cut on his forehead. He doesn’t seem to do anything at all unless he’s directly told to do it. Then something clicks.

“Are you under like, a spell?”

Two blinks.

My throat tightens, and realisation creeps up my back as I put two and two together. “Is that why your eyes… is that why you’re like this? Why you do what they say? That thing they make you smell…”

Another two slow blinks. Okay, so whether it’s because of his injuries or because of magic, he can’t help me. For fuck’s sake. I’m going to get that blasted key even if I lose an arm in the process. I need to get out of here — and maybe he does too. His fingers twitch weakly, as if pointing behind me. I trace the invisible line to the corner of my cell, where a bucket sits forgotten. I haven’t used it. How could I? When everything from my stomach comes back up in retching fits or soaked through my leggings during hours of fucking torture?

“You evil fire-bat genius,” I mutter, a little grim humor in my tone, and I swear I hear the faintest sound of a deep chuckle.

I fumble with it clumsily, clawing at the twisted wire handle, but it won’t budge, so I pull harder. My broken fingers scream, and the metal cuts into my skin, fresh blood staining the silver bucket. A strangled whimper escapes me as I brace it between my thighs and yank with every ounce of strength I have left, begging that tiny tingle in my heart to help. Finally, with a metallic snap, it comes free. A cracked sound of triumph bubbles from my throat. Twisting the wire into something that looks a little bit like a hook, I stretch through the bars again, edging closer. Almost there. The loop hooks over the key, and hope burns through my exhaustion until the wire slips from my grasp and clatters to the ground outside the cell. A frustrated cry tears from my throat as I fall back onto my knees, my head dropping in despair. whoosh. The most delicate wisp of smoke, so faint I can barely see it, spirals lazily from Kaed’s fingertip. Small as it is, I scramble back, but it wanders through the air and nudges the wire toward my cell. A trickle of blood slides from his nose, and his eyes completely shut. My stomach twists, and panic surges through me like electricity. I’ve got to save him. Save him? The fuck? I’ve dreamed of watching this man die a thousand different ways since the day he dragged me from my apartment. Under a spell or not, he maimed me! Ashley. Focus.

I grab the wire and try again. My breath comes in short, shallow gasps as I twist and tug and stretch. A metallic click makes my heart stutter in my chest, the noise dredging up nightmares, but the door swings open. I take a careful step outside the cell, half expecting some invisible force to push me back in again. But it doesn’t. I don’t know who or what is waiting outside, what kind of weapons or magic or spells they might have, but staying here is not an option. I won’t die in this hellhole. I make for the main door, but something tugs at me, gnawing at the back of my mind. Him. His body is slouched, shoulders sagging, and blood from his nose dribbles down his chin, dripping onto the hand that rests limply in his lap.

“I don’t know how to help you,” I hiss frantically, half to him, half to myself.

He lets out a low grunt, his dull eyes opening slowly and locking with mine, his brows furrowing in a silent message. Go. And God knows I try to, but my whole body betrays me. I take a hesitant step toward him, then another, even as my instincts scream at me to turn back.

“I—I can’t leave you.”

He grunts again, almost pleading, but my feet make decisions for me until I’m standing over him. Close enough to see every slice of his skin. It’s so much worse up close. Bright red covers his body, and bits of bone poke through his clothes. I circle him carefully, trying my best to ignore the squeamish side of me and push down the bile in my throat. A memory flickers. A force tearing through the air. The Captain’s body slamming against the bars with a sickening crack. I did this. Fuck me. I don’t know why I feel bad, almost angry at myself, it wasn’t on purpose. But it never is, is it? My parents. Maurice. My bed. And if the commands and magic smelling salts were making him hurt me, then that wasn’t on purpose either.

“Can you hear me?” I crouch down, ignoring the pain in my knees. “Can you get up?”

Even though he is slimmer than when I’d first got here, he’s still a solid mass of muscle. I can’t carry him, no chance. Up close, it’s obvious that the time here has worn him down. Torturing people must take a lot out of someone. Dark circles hang thick and heavy under his eyes, and his hair is longer and even more matted. I didn’t realise he was wearing the same clothes all this time. Panic pushes me back to reality, and I look around searching for, I don’t know what. Ashley, make a fucking decision. I’ll have to drag him, and the bleeding will have to wait. Grabbing the thin maroon material on his bed mat, I pull at it, trying to tear the stiff blanket into strips. But it’s not maroon. It’s caked in thick layers of old blood. Shit. Frustrated, I resort to wrapping the entire thing around his torso and the chair, double knotting it. It’s so strange to be this close to him, and I’m the one in control. A mixture of satisfaction and sympathy pits in my stomach when he lets out a low, pained grunt. Crouching between his knees, I grab the front legs of the chair. My broken fingers jut out at a strange angle, and my back burns, but I ignore it and drag him toward the exit. The chair screeches against the floor far too loudly. I tiptoe, peeking through the small window in the door. The hinges squeal when I nudge it open. A hallway stretches out in both directions, eerily empty.

By the time we reach the end of the corridor, my chest is heaving. I glance up, and instantly my heart deflates. Light from a small square opening spills down a tall flight of stone stairs, burning my eyes. How the fuck am I supposed to get him up there? Hope wavers in my chest, and my ears catch the distant sound of shouting. The clash of metal on metal follows. It’s nothing like the normal commands and laughter I hear sometimes from my cell when I’m conscious. This is violent. And loud. And it’s getting louder. Maybe there’s another way out. I start dragging him back the way we came, when light flickers behind me. My heart sinks as a figure marches straight down the stairs towards us. Theron. I step in front of Kaed. My legs threaten to give out beneath me, but I somehow find the strength to hold my ground. I reach for my magic, begging, pleading, bargaining. Then I feel it, right there. Theron’s eyes lock onto mine as he closes the distance, each heavy footfall reverberating in my chest. He is only a few steps away—

BOOM!

A deafening blast and stone explodes around us. I stumble as the entire wall caves in. Dust and debris fill the air.

Chapter 23

Nyk – a few hours earlier

How good, how sovereign, how true and pure,

grace I do not deserve,

Leander left at first light for phase one to find the alchemist we had once tracked down, supposedly responsible for concocting the elixir enslaving Kaed. I seem to recall Vale discouraging us from contacting him initially. Thank the gods I ignored him. The alchemist told us the white film over Kaed’s usually golden eyes may be caused by crushed Rams Horn. An ingredient only those from Ashen Reach can handle. Its use is illegal, as those Rams are sacred, to be used for worship and battle only. Removing their horns is blasphemous, but it also kills them. One from our army had died some months ago and Vale burned it at a pyre before anyone saw, claiming it fell to sickness. No one thought anything of it, because it’s Vale. If my childhood in the temple has taught me anything, it’s that power breeds silence. Those who should be questioned most are the ones we’re trained not to question at all. What we are trained to do is follow blindly, as if status equals trustworthiness. As soon as he finds something, Leander will send word via Pyreling, much to my irritation. I fucking hate those things. Kaed and I used them as target practice when we were boys. But those birds are the least of my problems today. I cannot bear another dead end, not when his freedom, his life, hangs in the balance. The thought tightens something in my chest as I stride through the tunnel toward the barracks. My brother, my Captain, has saved me too many times to count; he’s been my anchor through life’s storms, punishments, losses, and the countless whippings we endured side by side. I cannot, I will not let this be the end of his story. As the scriptures say: To abandon your brother is the first true sin of war.

The memories of the day he was taken haunt my sleep. He simply vanished into thin air. I remember waiting for him at dinner and the panic once we realised he was gone. But nothing compares to the horror I felt seeing that glaze over his eyes in the arena. If only I had acted faster, if only I had tackled him to the ground before that cursed smoke swallowed me whole. He’s so damn quick. We’ve fought many times, and I always knew he was holding back. His strength that day startled me. Most powerful fae in the world indeed. I force myself back into the present and push open the doors to the mess hall.

The buzz of idle chatter and the clatter of trays and cutlery fill the air. I had already done my rounds at the training grounds earlier, ensuring that my whereabouts could be vouched for if it all goes sideways today. Across the hall, a familiar voice laced with fake laughter. Lili tosses her unbound raven hair over her shoulder. It’s curled and bouncy. She leans toward Kian, her breasts pushed up under her bodice. Kian, who is clearly basking in her attention, rattles off one of his shit jokes before smoothing his fringe flat against his forehead. She laughs again, her hand lightly brushing his arm, and I suppress a chuckle. It seems the blood that should be circulating in Kian’s brain is now rushing to other areas. Grabbing a tray, I sit at a table nearby, keeping them in my peripheral. A book in hand, flipping through pages I’m not reading. My ears, however, are tuned to their conversation. Lili is good at this game, the best. I cringe slightly, remembering this had once worked on Kaed some years ago. She leans closer to Kian, voice dipping into a sticky tone.

“You know, Kiki,” I nearly gag on a mouthful of bacon. “You really don’t give yourself enough credit. I bet you know all kinds of things Vale wouldn’t expect you to.”

Kian puffs his chest slightly, and his finger circles the rim of his goblet. The smug grin spreading across his face is almost painful to witness.

“Well, I do know a thing or two. You don’t grow up around someone like Vale without picking up a few secrets.”

Lili tilts her head, doe-eyed, and fluffs up her hair. “Secrets, huh? Like what? Spells, maybe? Wards? He’s so secretive about his quarters, it must drive you crazy sometimes, not knowing how to get in. He doesn’t trust you at all, does he?”

Kian’s hungry eyes follow her hand as it trails down to her breast, picking off an imaginary piece of nothing. He leans in conspiratorially.