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Her heart gave a painful twist, and she had to retreat from her body at the feeling. She didn’t want to feel sorry for the male. He’d chosen. Hadn’t he?
She produced the keys.
Kivrin’s eyes opened slowly at the sound. One was nearly swollen shut from his last beating. He rasped something low, but she couldn’t make it out.
Finally, she found the right key and slid it into place. It made a screeching noise as she turned it. She winced, but there was no one left to investigate. She’d taken care of them all.
Kivrin said something else, and she sighed.
“I can’t understand you.”
“The fuck you want?” he growled in a rasp.
“From you? Nothing. I’m certainly not looking forward to this.”
The smell as she stepped into the cell was oppressive. They’d used magic to keep it from permeating past the door, but inside, it smelled rancid. The chamber pot clearly hadn’t been emptied in a good long while, and his body was a disgusting mix of body odor, blood, and sweat. She nearly gagged as she approached him.
He didn’t shrink away. There was still fire in his eyes. A male who didn’t break under torture. That was a surprise.
“You can do … your worst,” he spat.
“You don’t want that,” she assured him. “I’m the devil you see when your eyes close.”
He laughed. The bastard laughed at her. “I’ve seen the devil. He wears a golden face.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Poetic.”
“You are no Vulsan. You will not break me.”
Vulsan? Who the hell was that? The male had to be mad. Except that he didn’t seem insane. He seemed perfectly lucid. More with it than she had expected, especially after assessing his injuries.
“Then, you’re in luck. It’s just me, and we’re running out of time. Can you sit up?”
He glared at her. “I won’t do shit for you.”
She bent down, holding her breath to keep the stench from incapacitating her. “Do you want to get the fuck out of here or not?”
He narrowed his eyes. “This is a trap.”
“Maybe. But I’ve a bargain to keep. I can only get in with your daughter’s friends with you as collateral.”
“No.”
“No?” she asked incredulously.
“I won’t help you hurt them. I won’t let you hurt her.”
“I’m helping them, you idiot,” she snapped, her own anger coming to the forefront. “Do you want to get out of here or not?”
He looked at her warily, as if debating if she was telling the truth. Then, he must have decided that it was better to have a moment of hope than to stay here. He pushed himself up into a sitting position. His breath came out harshly at the exertion.
“Can you stand?”
His eyes were hard. “Something happened to my … spine.” He swallowed. “Legs don’t work anymore.”
No wonder the smell. Someone probably had to help him to the chamber pot if he couldn’t stand. And if not … then the indignity of pissing himself.
“Gods,” she muttered. “This will have to do.”
Kivrin still looked skeptical. “Why would you help me?”
“Don’t think on it too long,” she said as she removed the orb from her pocket.
The thing had a soft blue glow at the center. She’d taken it out of the vault when the Father was going through all the new magical artifacts that they had at their disposal. She claimed she wanted a way for a quick escape in a bad situation. In truth, she wanted a way to get away from him if he ever found out her true intentions. He hadn’t blinked. Just waved his hand and told her to keep it.
“That’s not good enough,” Kivrin argued.
But she was already gripping his shoulder. “Hold on tight.”
“What—”
His question was drowned out as the blue orb activated and light flashed in the darkness. She was glad it was quick. She didn’t have time to second-guess herself, as they were transported out of the dirty dungeon.
48
The Clockmaker’s Daughter
CLOVER
“She’s not going to show,” Hadrian said.
“Maybe she’s had a change of heart,” Darby said. Ever the optimist. Even when everything pointed to the opposite.
Clover shrugged. It didn’t matter if Isa showed. They’d moved headquarters after her entrance into their lives. Thea had been furious that they’d been found. All of them had believed they were safe in their underground rooms, but no one was safe from the likes of Isa.
“She will, or she won’t.”
Clover tinkered with the amulet in her hand. The one her father had made felt heavy today. The light had become more consistent. She could turn it on and off now. She’d tried to get it to move her across the room, even just a short distance. The glow had remained, but nothing else had happened.
She’d taken to observing the workers in their new location. Her father had been a clockmaker. She’d started messing with things like that since she was young. Her father guiding her hands. She hadn’t done it in years, and yet it had all come back to her when she’d watched them. Then, she’d given in and tried her hand at it. With no prior experience, the other makers were calling her a prodigy. That she should have been doing this all along.
