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Hadn’t that proven true?
Isa was still here. Valia was gone.
Too soft.
Too delicate.
Too vulnerable.
Isa had had one vulnerability, and now, she had none. Her father had killed the only person she’d ever cared about. Now, she would kill him. Not that it would be easy with the Ring of Endings on his finger or the precautions he had put in place, but she was the only one who could get close enough.
She’d given him a throne. She deserved something in return.
But not tonight.
If killing her father was the answer, it would take a lot more planning. And would he find out about her bargain with the little addict girl before it came to that? She shuddered at the thought. He’d given her one job—find Kerrigan Argon and eliminate her. He wouldn’t suspect anything if she found and interrogated her friends. And she had excuses at hand for why they weren’t already dead.
Even an excuse ready for what she was doing tonight.
Being an idiot.
The first guard was already snoring when she crept past him on soundless feet. She’d slipped a particularly potent brew into his mug hours earlier. He’d have no recollection of what happened tonight. He’d never seen her … not that he’d remember that either. She’d had to dive deep for something rudimentary. Something that wouldn’t point to the assassins school. Make it look like amateur work. She only had one shot at this after all. She didn’t want to die before finishing her task.
The second and third guards were crashed out around a game of Dragon Scales. She pocketed their cash. A robbery and a jail break were maybe too much, but most people were starving. They wouldn’t leave the money just sitting there.
She slunk down the stairs, fingering the small object in her pocket for reassurance. So much depended on the little orb, and she didn’t like that there was only one exit out of here. Failure wasn’t an option.
The guard on the final floor of the underground prison was the toughest. He didn’t gamble, and he didn’t drink. He took his duties too seriously. She would have liked to do it on another night when he wasn’t here, but she didn’t have the time.
She had no qualms about killing him. In fact, killing him would have been far easier. But how many people could get inside the Draco Mountain prison, past all the guards, and earn a perfect mark against their highest-rated guard? Not many.
She sighed as she pulled out a small pouch of powder. Then, she stepped into view. The guard startled at her appearance.
“Isa,” he said with a short bow. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Just on a routine sweep,” she told him.
He gestured down the long iron-clad hallway. “All quiet down here.”
When he turned back around, she had the powder in her hand, and she blew it into his face. He coughed twice, inhaling the hallucinogenic.
“What …” he gasped.
But already, it was taking effect. His pupils blasted out to near-total darkness, and specks of red filled what had remained of the irises. The high was so strong in concentrated doses that people sometimes gnawed off their own fingers to try to get the trip to stop. Most dealers in Kinkadia kept it under lock and key, only selling small amounts for a steep price. It could be quite pleasurable in the correct doses.
Isa would know. She’d had to take every drug the assassin school administered. Even the deadly ones. Because if an assassin couldn’t produce an antidote as well as the killing methods, they would end up as dead as their victims. But in the dose that she’d given him, the guard would stay high for a good half hour. He might remember that Isa had been there on a routine walk-through, but no one would believe him. He’d crash for days after the drug.
She planted the rest of the powder into his uniform and filched the keys. She tsked at him. “It’s always the quiet ones.”
Then, she strode down the long hallway. The iron made her blood recoil. It wasn’t exactly toxic to Fae, but it wasn’t pleasant. She didn’t know how anyone survived this place. Of course, that was the point.
It used to be that the cells were all empty. They were only occupied for short periods of time, and then the prisoners were sent on their way or killed for treason, whichever was appropriate. But now, the cells were lined with people. Way more than she’d ever seen in a jail. All because the Father had taken over and he wanted to make his point clear. There would be no dissent in Kinkadia.
It wasn’t working. But the fear was powerful nonetheless.
Finally, she came upon the last cell on the block and to the male she had been looking for.
Kivrin Argon.
He was nothing but a crippled Fae male, lying crouched in the center of the room on a filthy mat. His legs hadn’t been reset from where they’d been broken in the arena. His dark hair had grown out to his shoulders and was filthy. He was filthy. Every part of him after rotting away with no healing and no bathing for months. She could see fresh wounds from where they had beaten him, demanding answers that he couldn’t give. She couldn’t believe he was still alive under all that grime and not heading toward sepsis from the infections he must have down here in the dark.
