“He’s chained, but he’s been cooperative,” Cypherion said, and Jezebel nodded.
“Of course, he has.” I shrugged. “He’s injured and under our jurisdiction. He’d be a fool to attack or attempt escape until he’s healed.”
Cyph frowned at me. “It doesn’t seem he’s here to attack at all. He wants to talk.”
“And in there?” I dismissed that opinion and flicked my gaze to the second door over Cyph’s shoulder.
“His consort,” he answered. “They arrived together.”
“Though, that one was smart enough not to follow his prince over the fence,” Jezebel added.
A consort. A weakness.
“If either of them tries anything, we know where to strike.” I secretly wished for the chance.
“We should question them and then decide what actions arenecessary.” Cyph spoke diplomatically, but if it came to it, I believed he’d be by my side while giving the heir what he deserved.
“We need to be strategic,” Ophelia said, placing a hand on my arm. I raised my brows at her, and she scoffed. “Trust me, Malakai, I’d be the first to get revenge for everything done to you, but we don’t know that he’s like his mother or father.”
“Everything done tous,” I corrected. “We’ve all been hurt and that man in there is a symbol of it.”
Ophelia nodded. “I’d love nothing more than to run a spear through Kakias’s son. But personal vendettas aside, having him as our prisoner gives us leverage against her.”
I didn’t put it past the queen to shrug off her son’s disappearance, the cruel conqueror that she was, but I sighed and grumbled, “I’ll behave.”
“Nofatalinjuries,” Ophelia whispered.
“Nothing I have to stitch up,” Santorina corrected. She wiped the last of his blood from her hands. I didn’t know why it surprised me that it was as red as ours.
“Minor stabbings, then.” Jezebel grinned, looking around at us.
“Whoever gets the best shot in wins,” Tolek said.
“Cursed Spirits save us,” Cypherion exhaled.
“Only if provoked,” Ophelia commanded.
The mask of the Revered slipped over her features, and the energy shifted. The aura of vengeance still hovered, but the light was siphoned from it. Dark desires, vendettas, and strategies twirled behind her magenta eyes. Every step, every breath she took, was laced with power as she lifted a hand to the door and threw it open.
Ophelia wasincredible as she strode into the room, every soft side of herself disappearing beneath that mask. I didn’t know how she did it.
The others filed in before me. Hands within reach of our weapons, we crammed ourselves inside. Even Rina crowded into the corner, likely to ensure none of us reopened the wound she had stitched.
Despite the fact that the cell held little furniture, it was uncomfortable for four warriors thrumming with power, a healer, a prisoner, and myself. Disposing of the prisoner would free up some space.
He hadn’t been allowed great comforts—I smiled at that. The chill from the hallway was worse here. That would be even more uncomfortable for the Engrossian than for us, given that his lands were humid, the air weighing on you with sticky warmth. The tang of blood was rich. Stale, like it was older than just his wounds.
I pressed against the closed door behind Tolek and Cypherion, but Barrett’s slimy voice was loud, “A full guard? I’m honored you find me to besucha threat.”
“Prince Barrett,” Ophelia clipped.
“Revered Ophelia Alabath. I only wish to talk.”
Her name on his lips had me clenching my fist. It was like he was taking what belonged to me, when his existence had already claimed so much of my life.
My own cell flashed before my eyes, slick with pain and hate. I shrank back against the door, trying to breathe normally.I am not the prisoner, I reminded myself.He cannot take anything else from me.
“If you only wish to talk,” Ophelia said, “why hop the fence?”
