I whirl on her, then clutch my skull as the blood in my head whooshes about like a bloated tick. “You still don’t get it, do you? Sometimes there are no good choices, Katya. Sometimes all you can do is pick the lesser of two evils. So, yes. I was taking you back. At least then I could beg Troi to release you to my care because if they caught you, you wouldn’t be coming back at all. So, get off my ass.”
I turn back around—slowly this time—and lean against the wall. It’s nice and cool against my hot skin. I shut my eyes and tip my head back. Katya’s blessedly silent for about three seconds, then…
“What do you mean, he’d release me to your care?”
Of course, that would be the part she’d latch onto. “I told him I’d be personally responsible for you.”
“That isn’t what you said. You said—”
“I know what I said.”
“Then answer the question.”
I sigh. We’re in a bloody prison, beat half to shit, and she wants to start picking apart my words. “I told him that we might be ableto use whatever mental powers you have to our advantage. That I’d keep an eye on you.”
“And if I didn’t perform to his expectations, what then?”
I glance at her, then back at my hands, where I pretend to scrape a spot of dirt off my filthy trousers with my fingernail. “I don’t know.” That’s not the truth. I know exactly what I was going to do. I was going to offer to marry her. At the time, it made so much sense. She was an object then, something beautiful and alluring that I wanted to possess, but now… What kind of asshole proposes under threat of death?
She shakes her head and rubs her temples. “Well, at least you’ve thought it through.”
“Look, I know you’re upset—”
Her head snaps up, eyes narrowed on me. “Upset doesn’t begin to describe what I’m feeling.”
“—but if you want to get out of this place, you’re going to need my help, and you know it.”
She folds her arms across her chest. “I got out of the palace. What makes you think I can’t do the same thing here?”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. Pain shoots through my temple, but it’s worth it to see the irritated expression on her face. “Maybe if you knew how you did it the first time, witchling, but we both know you don’t.”
Brows pinched, she asks, “And how do you know I don’t?”
“Because you would have used it already to get away from me or them.” I gesture to the hallway outside our cell. “Unless you just really enjoy my company, which I do admit, I am quite lovable, but I seriously doubt you were lulled into this prison by the blood fae’s many charms. More likely they caught you and knocked youout, which means whatever you did that day in the interrogation room to escape is as much a mystery to you as it is me. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Katya’s lips tighten into a thin white line, but she doesn’t refute it because she can’t. “So, what’s your plan then, lieutenant?”
“I’m working on it.”
“How about this plan: I turn you in to the blood fae and they aresograteful they set me free?” She cocks her head and gives me a fuck you smile.
“Fine. Go ahead. You do whatever you want. But if you think the blood fae are just going to let you go, then you’re not nearly as intelligent as I gave you credit for.”
She huffs and turns her back to me. Real mature.
“What? You’ve got nothing else to say? There have got to be at least a few more things you can blame me for. Let’s see…” I tap my lip. “Was breakfast not to your liking?”
The sound of a door screeching open then shut reverberates off the stone walls. Katya spins back around, her eyes meeting mine before turning to see what was about to come down that hallway. A metal latch clicks into place, and several sets of footsteps tap against the stone floor, the sound growing louder as they approach our cell. Two males are speaking to each other, but it’s in a language I’ve never heard before. I glance over at Katya, who has her head quirked as if she’s trying to make out what they’re saying. Don’t tell me she speaks blood fae too. “Don’t let them know you can understand,” I whisper.
Her eyes lock on mine. She nods.
Just then, three blood fae males step in front of the cell and turn to study us through the bars. Katya lets out a soft gasp behind me,and I can understand why. With their pale skin, white hair and pink to icy blue eyes, they’re like something out of one of those scary stories adults tell kids before bed to scare the shit out of them.
“We were wondering when you’d finally wake up,” the male at the head of the group says in Ferinees. He’s obviously the leader, his scarlet robes a stark contrast to the other males’ black uniforms. He wraps his hands around the bars, flaunting red-lacquered fingernails that are so long, they’re beginning to curl at the ends. How he can do anything with those talons on his fingers, I have no idea. How does he hold a fork? Oh gods, how does he wipe himself? Even worse is the cylinder of lacy metal he wears over his index finger. It looks something like a cross between a ring and a fountain pen and culminates into a sharp, knife-like point at the end. Let’s hope he doesn’t hold his dick with that thing because that’s a catastrophe just waiting to happen.
The leader leans heavily on a black cane. An injury? The males behind him appear to be guards or soldiers of some kind. They both wear the same black pants and wrapped jacket with their long, white hair pulled into a tight knot on the back of their heads. Their only ornamentation is a tiny bottle dangling from a string around their necks, a six-shooter on one hip and on the other, a curved blade that reminds me of the scythes I’ve seen farmers use to harvest crops.
“What’s your name?” I ask, my tone as authoritative as I can muster, given the pounding in my skull.
