A flicker of surprise coursed through me, but I kept my expression hard as stone. Until now, the only words we’d wrung out of him were requests to seeher.
My sister.
Who, as fate would have it, was here in the Hollow—just a few huts away from the command center. Not that it mattered. She had locked herself away in her own imprisonment, too much of a coward to face the truth she was running from.
I dramatically dropped the banana peel into the bowl of oatmeal. “Eh, Shayde. Snake. I think Snake suits you better. Came up with it on the way over. I mean, you keep playing the part, don’t you? A snake in the grass, slithering around, refusing to talk. If you’d just work with us…” I arched a brow, letting the question hang between us.
No answer.
Leaning back against the bars, I let out a sigh. “Have it your way. Just means more chats with me every morning.”
“My own personal hell,” he muttered, voice dripping with disdain.
Biting back the urge to respond with a well-aimed pebble to his face, I deadpanned, “Eat your food.”
No answer.
Of course not. Every morning, it’s the same routine. Shayde refuses to touch his tray while I’m here, sitting in stubborn silence like it’s some grand act of defiance. Yet the guards confirm he eats once I’m gone, devouring every crumb as if I’d never been here at all.
As if sharing a meal in my presence is the one thing he can’t fucking stomach.
I glared into his deep brown eyes, my fingers trembling as anger surged through me, hot and unrelenting. The prickle of heat against my skin signaled the breaking point, and before I could second-guess my actions, my body moved on its own.
Launching off the ground, I drove my boot into the wicket, sending the breakfast tray soaring.
Metal clattered to the stone floor, its contents scattering like debris from an explosion. Oatmeal splattered across Shayde’s lap,acting as glue for the cheese cubes and buttered toast that now clung to him like an abstract art piece.
My lips twitched in satisfaction at the sight. It was chaos personified, a masterpiece of petty vengeance.
While the Mean Fallon on my left shoulder reveled in the mess, I realized the Nice Fallon on my right had intervened, steering my water element to shift the trajectory of the tea. Instead of scalding Shayde, the steaming liquid splashed harmlessly on the floor beside him.
Shayde flicked oatmeal from his fingers, his face a picture of simmering irritation as he examined the carnage I’d created.
Mean Fallon couldn’t resist. “Bet you wish you could use your element against me, huh? Oh, that’s right. You can’t.” I poked out my lower lip in mock sympathy, letting the words drip with smug satisfaction.
The tungsten choker snug around his neck glinted in the dim light, a constant reminder of his powerlessness. The Hollow’s soldiers had fastened it as soon as I brought him in, stripping him of any ability to wield his element.
“Fuck you,” he growled, voice low and dangerous.
Feigning deep thought, I tapped a finger against my chin and offered a sweet, venom-laced reply. “No thanks. But since you’ve proved you canactuallyfucking speak, you can start by answering my questions.” I leaned against the bars of his cell, my voice sharp enough to cut through the stale air. “Who else were you working with? What is Tyria’s next move?”
Silence.
My jaw clenched. “Answer me!” The steel toe of my boot connected with the bars, sending a sharp metallic clang echoing through the corridor.
Shayde barely flinched, his gaze steady and unyielding. “I want to speak with Scar,” he said—calm, but laced with defiance.
My grip on the bars tightened until my knuckles blanched. I closed my eyes and dragged in a deep, deliberate breath, trying to cage the inferno clawing at my insides. Accepting yet another defeat, I stormed out of the dungeons.
Chapter 6
The campfire crackled softly, the only sound breaking the stillness of the cold mountain night. Knowing she was awake next to me was the only thing keeping me from falling into an uneasy slumber. Our teammates were bundled tightly in their bedrolls behind us, mercifully quiet—no snores to disrupt the fragile peace.
We still didn’t know why our elements weren’t working properly, but at least Survival Training had taught me to be prepared. I’d tossed the flint Professor Lamport gave us into my bag before we left for the campaign. Without it, we’d be freezing right now.
Laney sat beside me, poking at the fire with a stick, willing it to stay alive against the biting chill. The flames danced and popped, illuminating her curls. I was sure her comforting brown eyes would help ease my nerves, but I could only make out the side of her face. We hadn’t expected the mountain air to be this unforgiving, and leaving our winter cloaks behind now felt like a rookie mistake.
“How’s it out there? Do dragons even get cold?”I asked Lakota.
