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My heart raced as the musty air hung heavy around me, dampening my wild curls with moisture. My heart raced and the whispers of the other people in this underground hell echoed through the chamber like ghostly moans, their words twisted between fear and hopelessness.
“It’s my turn,” a young man hissed. He was definitely speaking perfect Arrebol Spanish.
My despair threatened to consume me, dragging me back to the days when I was nothing more than a scared orphan, huddled in the orphanage’s darkness, praying for salvation that never came. The surrounding whispers grew louder.
“Shove off. You know that I’m the only reason we even get a newspaper,” a girl responded roughly. Her voice was strange.
The crackle of paper had me sitting up. If someone noticed me, they said nothing. The lack of rustling breaths near me told me I wasn’t placed in a cell directly next to anyone.
I strained to find them in the dark. How did anyone see in this place?
Another turn of the page, and the boy spoke again. “San Volcán, at least read it to me.”
A long sigh, and then, “Noticias Urgentes.”
It was clear from the garbled lilt of this girl’s voice that she wasn’t from Arrebol. Maybe she was another one with pointed ears? Could Elves see in the dark?
“Our sources have leaked exciting information just days before the start of the Blood Tournament. Many have been heartbroken at the death of Isaac Monroy’s mother, Martina de León, but reliable sources revealed that the grieving son is to wed Tournament favorite, Renata Valarde Bordón.”
I gasped, my heart skipping beats at the mention of Isaac’s name. I had watched as his mother, Martina de León, accidentally killed him in a fit of rage. It was impossible.
Isaac… was alive. My ears rang. How was he alive? If what they said was true, I was sure he hated me. He had lied to me, and I had lied to him, but I had suffered genuine agony at his death. He had looked at me like I was a monster moments before he…
I took a deep breath. San Volcán. if he was alive, he was probably going to do everything he could to expose me.I shifted in the direction of the sound, straining to catch anything else they would read.
Luckily for me, the girl continued. “Gods, look at these pictures. They are deliciously scandalous.”
The young man’s voice joined in. “She’s naked on a rooftop. I don’t think that’s so strange.”
A laugh made my cheeks burn. Were those pictures of Isaac and I at the dinner party last month?
“Human notions of modesty are strange, Syl,” the girl said.
With each word spoken about Isaac, fear seeped deeper into my bones, adding to my mounting dread. I waited to hear more, but they grew too quiet to understand. My heart was racing in my chest, trying to absorb the report. It was impossible to tell if I was still in Ciudad de Rubíes, but they certainly believed that I was there.
Getting out of here was my highest priority. If they didn’t believe that I was behind the death of Martina de León, it was because Canciller Duarte had covered it up.
My eyes darted back and forth, searching for a way out, but I couldn’t see anything.
Then a door closed, and all hushed voices were silenced.
There were light, quick footsteps across the hard ground.
“Buenos días, corazón,” a voice oozed from the shadows. A light went on, and Omar Gálvez stood before my cell. My heart sank when I realized just how large the space was, and the labyrinthine arrangement of cells offered no escape.
He looked deathly skinny in this light, and the fabric of his fine vestments hung off him at awkward angles. His black hair was slicked back, and beads of sweat decorated his repulsive brow. His pupils were dilated.
I swallowed, suddenly much more afraid. Had he been doing Ash? Had he used Ash to put me to sleep yesterday? There was no euphoria that others had described, only darkness. And anxiety.
At least I hadn’t told him who I was.
"How are you?” he asked.
I gritted my teeth. “Let me out," I snarled.
He looked taken aback. “Corazón, you came to me. You sought me out in the middle of the night and asked for help.” He stretched his arms wide. “This is help.”
As if to emphasize my point he said, his lips stretching into a seemingly harmless smile, "You are the most valuable piece of my collection."
