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He sobbed.

Into a labyrinthine maze Atticus dragged him. A labyrinth of fate’s creation Orpheus had been a fool to ever think he could escape. He’d always been a tool—first crafted by the hermits’ intentions, then wielded as a weapon by Lore. Only Fenrir had ever treated him as a person, a creature of individual wants and needs that deserved respect and…

…protection.

So where was Fenrir when he needed him the most?

You promised! He couldn’t even scream through his tears. Throughout the soaring cathedral the bell continued to toll, the memory of Fenrir’s smiling face, a hope he still clung to, and maybe that made it worse, because the truth was, even if Fenrir was coming, he wasn’t here yet and that meant he was too late.

Chapter XVII

The Prison Cell

Inky black shadows crowded the corners of an obsidian cube. Light filtered through the singular barred slot set within a heavy iron door, a little peeking through a flaw in the stone threshold at the bottom edge of the door. The prison cell tasted subterranean. There was no window to speak of. No indication that he was high in a spire or buried beneath the ground. The walls were as impenetrable as those of the wagon, the tang of iron lingering heavily on the back of his tongue.

But that wasn’t what bothered Orpheus. It was the men who waited above. The cloaked hermits he’d long ago escaped, returned from the dead to haunt him still.

“Easy now, behave.” Atticus crouched beside him while Duluth closed a second collar around his throat, this one thick iron rather than delicate silver, secured it to a chain embedded into the rock wall. Orpheus bit past the pain shooting up his leg, shivering atop the floor and resisting the urge to bite Atticus’ hand when he reached up and removed the gag. “This door only opens at my command. No one is down here to hear you but the rats, and they’re hungrier than the people you’ve starved so I don’t recommend getting their attention.”

“I thought we had an agreement?”

“Do you think my trust is so easily earned? No, I’ve been in this position with your kind before, and you’ve heard the saying: Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me, etcetera. Trust is earned, my unfortunate mage, and I’m afraid yours is an uphill climb, if not an outright battle.”

Orpheus’ bit his lip before it could curl. “Whatever Lore did to you, I’m certain your anger is warranted.”

“Oh, you don’t need to tell me that. But you still haven’t said where she’s gone, and I’m afraid that’s not helping argue your case.”

“Why do you think I care if you know where she is?”

Atticus cocked his head, like Orpheus had surprised him. “You’d tell me if you knew?”

If his plan was to play into Atticus’ demands, he should. But something told him Atticus wouldn’t be happy with any answer that didn’t lead to Lore’s blood on the end of his sword, and Orpheus couldn’t provide that. Half measures were all he had to bargain with, and the results were sure to be…disappointing. But he had little else to offer than information. Far less than Atticus presumed, and that was a problem he could only outrun for so long.

Best to get a head start.

“The last I saw, she fell in the chasm when I was closing it.”

Maybe it was a trick of the light, or maybe it was his imagination, but Orpheus could have sworn he saw Duluth flinch.

“She’s dead?” Atticus asked, eyebrows raised.

No, maybe, unlikely, but… “I don’t have a body to prove it.”

Atticus hummed, eyes narrowed in the low light, attention a heat that seared Orpheus from the outside in.

“It will take more than driving off a Prometheus and an unverifiable claim of your Empress’ demise to earn my trust, but I suppose we can call this a start. And in return…” Atticus felt along the length of Orpheus’ leg, probing the break with stiff fingers and a pursed mouth. “I’ll brace it, as a show of good faith. Duluth, would you fetch my bag?”

Duluth’s footsteps faded into the hallway, and the open door revealed Serval standing with one foot propped against the corridor wall, a knife flipping in the air.

“I’m going to give you a little tidbit of information that one” —Atticus jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Serval— “is going to ream me out over later.”

Serval sniffed, eyes rolling.

“Did you know Lore pursued an alliance between our people?”

Considering Orpheus didn’t even know Sanctuary existed… “No.”

“Caged birds, is what she called us, let me set you free. To be fair she wasn’t exactly wrong. Sanctuary has been our harbor, and we’d be remiss to take her for granted, but while I saw your kind for the savages you are, my wife had a much bigger heart.”