“Right.” I get to my feet, my chair scraping against the floor. “You have him prisoner, I assume?”
Wick knows exactly who I’m talking about, and he nods. “I do. He’s down with the Stone Swords we have captured. But he hasn’t talked.”
“Who?” Slade asks as he also gets to his feet.
I lock eyes with him as I answer. “The fae who betrayed us,” I say, but inside, I whisper.
The fae who betrayedme.
CHAPTER 40
AUREN TURLEY
What I’ve quickly learned aboutLydia is that this city is very fond of tunnels. Both water and walking ones. Wick leads us into the cellar of the blue-roofed building, and inside of it is a hidden tunnel. The walkway is dark and damp, the stone crevices speckled with fluorescent moss, and lit up with the familiar blue bulbs of flameless light.
The tunnel is nothing more than a short corridor, and then Wick, Slade, and I are crossing through a stone threshold and looking through a glass door. On the other side is the space that the Vulmin are using as a prison.
The room is large and long. There are no cells or bars in sight, but it does have wide benches nailed to the walls and hooks attached to the floor. Those hooks could pass as something innocent, like a way to secure stacks of supplies. Yet right now, they’re used to connect to the shackles worn around the prisoners’ ankles.
The scent of blood is far stronger here, and through the glass, I can see that it’s coming from one of the Stone Swords. He has a vicious slice against his neck that’s wrapped but still appears to be bleeding.
Wick notices my line of sight. “Tried to end himself with his own sword. We intervened before he could.”
Aside from that self-inflicted wound, neither him nor the other soldier have any other injuries. I glance at Wick in question, and he seems to pick up on my thoughts, because he shakes his head. “Vulmin have had to be ruthless, it’s true. But like I said in the square. We fae also have to be better. And since we have taken the city, that starts now, even with our prisoners.”
Something like pride wells up in my chest.
“Well, that explains why your prisoners won’t talk,” Slade drawls. When I shoot him a look, he shrugs. “I’m not saying it’s not noble. It is. But when people are put to pain, their tongues loosen.”
“But then we’d only be perpetuating the very same things we hope to erase from Annwyn,” Wick argues. “The Vulmin have always had a plan. We grow, we fight, we kill if we must, but then once we take control, we implement a new way. A better way. If Annwyn has any hope of ushering in true peace, it has to start with our opponents, or it isn’t really peace. Isn’t really change. We can’t pick and choose between friend and enemy.”
“You also can’tconfusefriend for enemy.”
“And we won’t,” Wick replies firmly. “But we have to make Annwyn realize that fae against fae is no way of life. We need to become united. We can’t do that by killing and hating half the population.”
Slade doesn’t reply, though it’s obvious he doesn’t necessarily agree with Wick’s ideology. But coming from someone who was recently in a dungeon and having seen others who endured beatings and torture, I have to say, Wick’s plan for a peaceful Annwyn is a welcome one.
“Speaking of being imprisoned…are the Oreans okay? The ones I got out from the dungeons?” I ask.
“They’re all here, staying in the city and being taken care of.”
I exchange a look with Slade. “We should speak to them. See if they have any information about your mother.”
He nods, and although he keeps the rest of his expression unreadable, I can see the flash of worry in his eyes.
I look back through the glass, past the sleeping Stone Swords, and my gaze lands on the figure at the other end of the room. He’s lying on a bench facing the bricked wall. From here, I can see his shoulder-length hair, brown but streaked with gray.
Brennur.
“Ready?” Wick asks me.
I nod, and the three of us walk into the dim room. It’s drafty, thanks to the vents in the ceiling that look more like gutters, sending wisps of wind inside. Four Vulmin sit around the table right next to the door. One of them is reading, and the other three are playing some sort of dice game while the lanterns in front of them flicker.
When they see us, they immediately jump to their feet.
“We’d like the room,” Wick tells them.
The males hurry out, shutting the door behind them.
