Page 175 of A Thief Among Fae

“Found her!” Rune yells from one of the rows of cells. “She’s either dead or out cold. Toss me the keys!”

Shit, I hope she’s alright. I throw the keyring to him. He unlocks Auri’s cell and races inside.

“She’s alive!” he calls out. Thank the gods.

I had heard Desmond’s voice before we entered, so he must be here. “Desmond?” I call out. There’s no response, but a feeling tugs at my soul, pulling me toward one of the rows. I walk down it until I reach the last cell.

I stifle a gasp.

He’s been stripped bare, restrained by chains like a sacrificial beast. His arms are stretched above him, iron cuffs biting into his raw, blistered wrists. Two more ensnare his ankles, his feet dangling just above the crimson-stained floor. Fury coils within me at the angry lashes across his back, some crusted with scabs and others oozing fresh blood. The smell of iron suffocates me.

He doesn’t raise his head as I unlock his cell. My boots click as I approach him, and his hands clench. He suppresses a hiss as the shifting cuffs dig into his skin.

Seeing him like this. . . it guts me alive. This is what Avedor did to him when he gave himself up to save Auri years ago. Because of me, it’s happened again. I fight back a scream.

“Cynthia,” he says, his voice a low rasp that’s almost too quiet to hear. “You shouldn’t have come for us.”

“Don’t say that.” I stop in front of him, averting my eyes from his exposed body, the cuts and burns, the bruises. His stubble has grown, and his cheeks are hollow from thirst. Dark shadows encircle his eyes. Everything they’ve done to him makes me want to murder every guard in this keep, morals be damned.

I summon my magic, and the cuffs unlock.

Desmond groans as his bare feet hit the floor. He lowers his arms with an agonized wince. Then he finally lifts his head, and I dare to meet his gaze. There’s a flicker of hope and reverence in his gorgeous hazel eyes that twists my heart.

“If anyone saw you. . .” he says.

“That doesn’t matter. You’re a fool if you believed I’d let you—” I draw a breath, my voice cut off by the sudden tightness of my throat. “Let you die.”

His hands cup my face, rough with blisters and dried blood, but I don’t care. I revel in the scent of him, the mint so faint that it’s like a faraway dream. “Are Auri and Finnian still alive?” he asks.

“Yes.”

I feel his relieved exhale against the tears that roll down my face.

“Why aren’t you furious with me?” I whisper. “You know I’m the only person you told about your plans. You know it had to be me.”

He tenses, and when his hands fall away, I feel like I’ve lost a part of me. “Who did you tell?” he asks, but his voice is steady, like a calm before the storm.

Desmond deserves to know. I betrayed his trust, but would he hold Evie responsible? Fae take transgressions like that even more gravely than humans. I know Desmond believes in peace over violence, understanding over prejudice, but I still feel so scared for Evie.

I may be livid with her for betraying my own trust, but I’m the one Desmond should blame.

“Cynthia, don’t lie to me. Who did you tell?” he asks in a tone teetering between warning and begging.

I blink back my tears. “Does it matter? I take full responsibility. I’m the only person you should hate. I’m so sor—” I cut myself off, but he shows no sign of being offended. His unreadable calm unsettles me even more than anger would.

He’s silent for several seconds. It feels like a lifetime to me.

Then the calm breaks with a long sigh, not into wrath, but the pensiveness I’ve come to adore in him. He brushes his curls out of his eyes, oily and dirty from days of being trapped in this cell. “You wouldn’t have come for us if you meant for this to happen,” he says.

I nod because there are too many things I want to say. Of course I didn’t. I’d never want to hurt him. All of it tastes like hollow excuses. “I brought clothes,” I tell him instead. I pull the stealthwear out of my pack and hand it to him. “Let me spread Maeve’s salve over your back before you put the tunic on.”

Desmond starts dressing as I find the small jar and scoop the salve into my palms. Then he stills, waiting.

“What happened after you left me in Mythos?” I ask him, barely able to get the words out.

He hisses as my palms finally make contact with his skin. I keep my movements slow and careful as I smear the salve over every raised scar and laceration. If only I could wrap my arms around him and never let go, but we need to escape first.

“We brought Min back to the guild, then returned to Mythos to rendezvous with Eldon. We waited for him near Grimulf Square. I was too distracted to notice something was wrong.”