“No, it’s been transfigured by a Magician Arcana. It works only one way; the other side appears as just a wall.”
“Pull your guards.” I shift as he looks to me, eyes narrowing. “You just have to trust me.”
He looks me over, smirking slowly. “As far as I can throw you.”
Some of the tension eases from my chest, a sieve opening that lets me breathe a little more freely. I nod, and he summons theHigh Priestess, and the guards react as one, all of them suddenly exiting, leaving Kasper alone in that chair, more confused than ever.
I pass by Draven, steeling myself before I enter. I fiddle with the handle, jiggling it like it’s locked, then slip inside, shutting it swiftly behind me, looking around the room as if afraid of seeing anyone else. When I spot Kasper, I rush ahead to him. “There you are. Thank the gods. Morgan said you’d been grabbed.”
“He’s … he’s alive?” Kasper’s brow furrows, suspicion raging in his skittish eyes, his scrunched forehead. “You’re not a part of the Ascension.”
So, he knows the name. Who’s involved. I rush my words as I fiddle with the manacles binding his hands behind his back. “Morgan recruited me, and I’ve been heading the operation since he got locked away. You saw me—I wanted to get Selected for a reason, this is it. I managed to distract the guards, but that won’t last long. We need to get you out of here before they come back and execute you.”
“They’re going to kill me?”
“They found letters, Ascension paraphernalia back in your room. You were sloppy.” I bluff and he jerks, looking up at me with a plea in those icy-blue eyes.
“That’s not mine. You have to talk to your boyfriend. Convince him I’m not involved—”
“My cover’s blown. Draven was just a mark.” I swallow, knowing he’s currently listening and watching this whole performance. But he’ll know why I said it.
“Why are you helping me at all?” Kasper shakes his head, watching me over his shoulder as I pull a thin hairpin from my curls and begin to fiddle with his locks, making a show of it. “I told Morgan no. I told him it was a stupid idea.”
“You’re not with the Ascension?”
“No.”
“But you wanted to be Selected. You hate the immortals. You told Morgan you agreed with the sentiment of this plan.” I stop fiddling, like I won’t help him if he isn’t one of them. His jaw ticks, eyes searching as if he’s thinking through his options.
“Look, I’m not here for rebellion. I’m here for … someone else.” Kasper spits the words and my eyes narrow.
“Who? Draven?” I keep fiddling with his chains, never popping the lock.
“No. I don’t give a fuck about him.”
“Then who?” I lean forward, still pretending to pick his lock, but he claps his jaw shut. “If you weren’t in on this plan, why did you give me that look when I left with Morgan? You thought he might hurt me, and you did nothing. Why didn’t you warn me?” The heat of the room is smothering, yet the knowledge of what Morgan did, and what worse he would’ve done, is what steals my breath.
“I … don’t know.” Kasper hangs his head, suddenly unable to look at me.
“At the Wall, you stood at the front. Near me, like youwantedto be Selected. Why? Who are you after?”
“It won’t interfere with whatever the Ascension is planning—”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” I unbind one wrist, but his other one is still manacled. I stop, crossing my arms and leering over him. “Tell me the truth or I’ll leave you to get executed.”
He turns as white as fresh snow.
“I’m looking for my father.” At least he’s capable of uttering one truth. Now I have a baseline, though it’s hard to see straight beyond my seeping rage.
“Your father? Aren’t you the son of … a countess? Your father was obnoxiously rich if I remember—”
“Stepfather,” he snarls.
I hadn’t forgotten, but it’s nice to know it’s a tender point. The more sensitive the subject, the easier the knife can slice through. “He was rich. It doesn’t mean I was.”
I grab his palms, flipping them. My own hold scars, nicks, calluses, but his are fresh as a child’s. “Your hands beg to differ.”
“He let me live there, but when my mom died, I wasn’t welcome any longer. My mother had an affair with an immortal,” Kasper confesses, tugging at the restraint.
