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Chapter Fifty-Two
Aika
Cinnamon sake really is my favorite drink?
I massage my temples as I go over the conversation in my mind. That was the only truth I could think to give him, and the look of disappointment on his face said more than his silence.
I wrap my arms around my body, trying to disappear into the loose-fitting tunic Remy gave me. Anything to stave off the cold, damp air. I’m resting my head against the stone wall when a faint footstep draws my attention.
Several seconds later, Damian’s slimy voice slithers into my ears.
His feral grin is wide as he takes in the image of me in this cell.
“Welcome, Damian. Do make yourself at home. May I offer you a refreshment? Perhaps some mold from the wall? Or a dribble of rat piss?”
“Appreciated, but I’m satisfied just seeing you here, like this,” he begins. “What did you really think you would accomplish by landing yourself in the king’s dungeons? Do you truly think you have escaped Mother’s wrath?”
I shrug in response, crossing my arms and not deigning to let him know that very thought has been plaguing me since I announced I was the vigilante.
Damian shakes his head and drags his knuckles across the metal bars of my cell. “This won’t go very far, Sister. Mother will interfere before the king or queen hear a word of this. She wouldn’t dare let you off as easily as a royal proclamation and a public hanging.” He tsks. “That would be too quick.”
“Are you sure about that, Damian? I think your time in the dungeons has made you confused. How do you know that Mother will believe you?”
The corner of his mouth creeps upward, tugging at the scars on his face as he continues as if I haven’t spoken.
“I can’t wait to tell her about your little lover’s quarrel with the prince. What do you think she’ll make of that?” He tilts his head to the side, examining me and the reaction I hadn’t meant to let slip. “I’m certain she’ll be very interested to know what sort of understanding the two of you had behind her back. How long do you think it will take him to break?”
Dread pools in my stomach, and I try to steady my breathing. There is no response I can give that won’t put Remy in more danger.
I had thought that if I was removed from the equation, Remy would be safe. But now… If Damian reports on whatever he thinks he saw, I know that she will kill Remy. Especially if she thinks I have betrayed her to him.
I try to view the situation from Damian’s eyes, and it isn’t good.
If she thinks for one second that Remy knew anything about me, my time as the vigilante, or about her…
Fear rakes its icy tendrils down my back, and I want to be sick.
Damian must sense this, because his eyes widen along with his feral grin until the sound of a metal door squeaks on its hinges.
“I’ll be back for you later,” he whispers and disappears around the corner.
The sound of boots stomping toward me barely drowns out the sound of a door closing in the direction Damian left. I sit up straighter when one of the guards brings me a plate of stale bread and a cup of water.
He grimaces as he shoves it through the hole in the door toward me.
I stumble in my broken shoes and reach out to catch the cup on instinct, barely saving the water from spilling everywhere. Too many years of going hungry taught me not to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“You’re really the one who set all of those fires?” the guard asks.
“I’m not in the mood. Go play with someone else,” I respond, narrowing my eyes at him.
“I don’t believe it. Little thing like you… Who helped you?” His eyes inch down from my head to my feet.
“If I tell you, you have to promise not to say a word.” He leans in conspiratorially. “It was your mother,” I whisper with a wink.
The guard’s features go rigid, and he scoffs. When he finally leaves and I’m certain no one else is planning a visit, my shoulders relax, and I place my head in my hands, rocking back and forth.
With tossers like him on the royal guard, no wonder crime runs rampant in the city. Squeezing my eyes shut, my mind runs through a million questions and a million what-ifs, but one thing stands out among the rest.
How in the bloody hell am I going to save Remy?
