She must’ve seen the look of understanding blossom on my face because a warmer smile grew on hers. “Will you play nice?”
“Play nice?” I snapped, already tired of talking into a wool carpet. “I can’t even get up.”
But she was feeding me bits of information. And, in a way, she was protecting me by her presence. There was also something about her that made me think she was being honest with me, while putting on a show. But for whom?
Was she under scrutiny within her own castle?
Anwen said, “I will unbind your hands and feet if you promise to play nice. You are a prisoner but can be a pampered one if you’re polite. Can’t have our bargaining chip withering away.”
Bargaining chip? I wanted to telekinetically fling the silver bowl of apples straight at her forehead. But I’d survived long enough in Caervorn to know how stupid acting out was when you had other choices that would buy you time.
“On one condition,” I said, voice more confident than I felt.
Thoughts of how I might use this misfortune to achieve my loftiest goal—to undermine the Assembly—crystallized in my mind. But I needed more information first.
She waited, taking a bite out of an apple.
“Tell me how I can help you.” I met her gaze with steady fire then mouthed,Not Maelric. Only you.
A crack in her mask of iron. A flicker of uncertainty. Then, just as quickly, it was gone.
Steel hissed from its sheath, the sound shrill in the silence.
Anwen advanced, blade catching the faint candlelight, her eyes unreadable. My heart started racing.
I saw it then. Another moment of decision that would change my life the second it was made.
This time the gods didn’t laugh; they watched from every direction, waiting.
Chapter 53
Isca
The sword came down, and for a second, I wished I’d made the decision to strike first instead of trusting the flicker of uncertainty I’d seen on Anwen’s face.
Too trusting. Stupid, silly Isca.
Anwen grasped my forearm to steady me. Rope snapped. Once. Twice. Then again. I stared, breath stuck somewhere between a gasp and deranged laugh as her thumb brushed the inside of my wrist where the rope had bitten. A comforting heat sparked there for a fleeting moment before she quickly removed her hands.
My bindings fell away, wrists stinging as circulation rushed back, and the ache of my bruises intensified.
“You’re braver than I expected,” Anwen said, sliding her sword home with a casual flick. “Or more foolish.”
I flexed my ankles, wincing as I fought the urge to soothe the burn of the rope’s bite. “It’s easy to be both when you don’t have a choice.” I smiled thinly, hoping she’d hear more of the humor in it than the weariness.
There was another flicker in her stoney face, a slight upturn at the corner of her mouth. “True.”
She got to her feet and gestured to the table. The apples gleamed in their bowl like beacons of temptation, a silent dare to taste their secrets, promising either knowledge or poison.
I was mortified at how long it took me to get up from the hated carpet. My body didn’t want to bear my weight after whatever the druid and thatdraught had done to me. I wobbled slightly, but I made it to the chair with my dignity intact and sat. My stomach grumbled traitorously again.
Anwen rested her arms lightly on the table. Then she reached inside her cloak and withdrew something. A small, unassuming ring that hadn’t been there before appeared on her finger. It was silver but streaked with obsidian glass that looked like veins running through metal skin—and it had runes etched into its surface.
Magic hummed off it in steady pulses like a slow heartbeat. I couldn’t stop my eyes from widening. It had the same ancient feeling as the cavern Emrys and I had fallen into. A million questions swirled in my mind, desperate to be asked.
But Anwen caught the look and gave a tight shake of her head as she adjusted its fit.Don’t ask,that look told me.
Then she pointed surreptitiously to one ear, acting like she was adjusting a stray strand of hair. A second later, the pressure shifted into silence. It was exactly like one of Emrys’s wards of silence blossoming around us.
