And he sure didn’t have any trouble fighting me to the ground.
I scowl and look back at my food.
“When we were desperate for medicine,” Lochlan says quietly, “we had rules drilled into us. For . . . ?for when we were caught.”
There’s a note in his voice that draws my attention up again.
He tears a piece of chicken from the bone with his teeth. He’s still not looking at me. “The most important one was to never stop eating. If food’s put in front of you, you eat it. If water’s there, you drink it. Wasting food only spites yourself. Being weak only helps your captors.” He pauses, and his voice is grave. “If you’re breathing, you’re alive. If you’re alive, there’s still hope. Don’t undo it on your own.”
I stare at him.
He shrugs a little. “I should’ve made you eat yesterday. I forgot that a spoiled prince in the palace wouldn’t have learned that lesson.”
I should bristle, but I don’t. He’s right. I didn’t learn that lesson.
I learned different ones.
I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re a funny one to lecture me about hope, Lochlan.”
He tears another piece. “Well, I made it out of the Hold,” he says slowly. “Then I made it off your stage, and that was with a hood over my head and a crossbow jabbed in my back.” He shrugs. “I made it out of the Circle, when I thought your brother was going to have the army kill us all. And then I made it off that stupid ship.” He looks up, his eyes a little fierce. “Still breathing.”
I take a breath and tear a piece of my own chicken. I suppose he’s got me there.
Still breathing.
Silence falls between us, and I don’t like it. I’m rattled now, agitated. I don’t know if it’s the food or the fight, but I’ve woken up, and there’s nowhere to go.
“What were the other rules?” I say.
“Always have fake names ready to offer, if you’re questioned. Ifyou’re running from the night patrol, grab a wheelbarrow and walk. No one stops someone with a wheelbarrow.” He hesitates, and his eyes hold mine. “If you get close to the prince, use whatever you can to hurt him.”
I drain my cup and pour more from the water skin. “Do you want to pull my hair again?” I say flatly.
“A little.”
“What, are you six years old?” I demand. “Who fights like that?”
“It worked, didn’t it?”
I scowl. He grins darkly and tears another piece of chicken.
My thoughts are turning clearer. The food really is helping. I feel less like crying and more likedoingsomething. Unfortunately, we’re still locked in a cell.
I have no idea how to get us out of here. Harristan won’t know we’re missing forweeks. Rian, formerly Captain Blakemore, and currently the king of Ostriary, likely thinks we’re dead—if he cares at all. I don’t know what Oren Crane will do with me, but he’s not in power here. Even if I tell him who I really am, I don’t think he’d trust me. And I don’t think offering steel from Kandala would give him leverage. Not yet, anyway.
Then again, these pirates left us alive, so they must seesomeadvantage to keeping us here.
Oren will be back soon. He’ll have a plan for you, Wes.
I don’t know what that plan could be. On the first night, I tried to fight Oren Crane. I tried to kill him. I tried to run.
He laughed in my face. Then he locked us in here.
I look at Lochlan again. He’s the worst person I could be trapped with. I can name a hundred others who would be more convenient than a man who spends every hour of his lifehatingme.
Then again, he cut me loose on the ship when Rian had me tied to the mast. And he was smart enough to give me a false name in front of Oren Crane. I might be in a cell, but as far as the pirates are concerned, I’m just a servant. A potential source of information, nothing more.
A prince of Kandala would be a source of leverage. Against Harristan for sure—and potentially against Rian, too, considering what he needs. A political prisoner. Whatever the pirates do to Weston Lark, it’s not going to be half as bad as what they could do with Prince Corrick—and I have Lochlan to thank for that.
