Heat spread across Emillie’s cheeks. She and Ariadne had grown so distant in the recent months, not only due to their separation after Azriel’s imprisonment, but even in their nights together since being reunited. None of this had come up. Emillie had assumed that, had it been necessary to discuss, Ariadne would have mentioned it.
Paerish nodded to Revelie. “Very good.”
The two simple words had Emillie spinning. She had not heard anyone say them since her father’s death. In an instant, she was back in that study, watching Loren plunge the sword through her father’s chest.
Before the memory could overwhelm her, she tucked her hand into Luce’s soft fur and forced herself back into the present. “Like Revelie said before: we have no skills for a prison break.”
Phulan looked between them. “We don’t expect either of you to assist in any physical capacity.”
“Then why did you bring us?” Emillie’s voice rose to a pitch that some Caersan men would describe as hysterical. She hated the term and immediately snapped her mouth shut to collect herself again.
“I think,” Revelie said to her in a quiet voice, “they mean to collect our blood and use it on the mages guarding the prison.”
A shout from behind had all of them turning to look at the dhemons still inside. Jakhov had gotten to his feet from the table and was staring at Revelie as he shouted something in his language. Beside him, Lhuka spoke much calmer and held his friend’s arm as though to de-escalate the situation. The former gestured wildly as he spoke to Phulan in what Emillie could only describe as an accusatory tone.
“Oh, shit…” Revelie whispered, her face screwing up with pained exhaustion.
“What is he saying?” Emillie asked Phulan.
The mage sighed, clearly exasperated by the entire bonding. “Probably what you’d expect: he doesn’t like the idea of taking Revelie’s blood. Says it could kill her.”
“And if we don’t give up our blood for this?” Emillie asked, glancing at Luce, who had a similar glint of concern in her golden eyes.
Paerish pushed off the wall, sword clacking against the adobe. “Then you may as well just leave without any magic-users for your army.”
That was what she had been afraid of. Phulan had tricked them. While they were led to believe their entire purpose in Algorath was to use Emillie’s name and relation to Ariadne to gather like-minded mages, no one had told either of them that they would be needed to commit more crimes. The last thing she needed was forherface to be plastered all over the city alongside Ariadne’s.
Emillie let a quiet descend over them as Lhuka did his best to calm Jakhov back down, but his distress was far greater than Revelie’s. She turned to her friend. “Are you willing to do this?”
Setting her jaw, Revelie took a deep breath. “Camilla is imprisoned by a monster. I will do anything to get her out.”
The response that Emillie expected. Her stomach churned at the thought of what happened to Revelie to harden her so muchwhen all she ever wanted was to live her own life by her own rules. She took her friend’s hand and looked at the missing finger there; the motion was enough to have drawn Jakhov’s attention, and he choked back a wail before sitting himself at the table and putting his face between his knees. This bond was, by far, one of the strongest she had ever witnessed—and she had seen Azriel nearly die over Ariadne’s bruised wrist.
“Jakhov, get yourself together,” Phulan snapped. “It’shealed.”
Until that moment, Emillie had assumed Luce would remain in her lycan form for the duration of their time in Algorath. Something about Phulan’s words, however, had her shifting back into her fae form and summoning her clothes in one swift motion. She turned on the mage. “Do you understand what it’s like to be controlled by something other than your own mind?”
Phulan glowered at her. “I am far more experienced inmanythings than you might think, girl.”
“Then you should know that he can’t stop this,” Luce hissed. “Treat him with the respect he deserves. It isnoteasy to be bonded to someone who can’t even reciprocate it—who doesn’t evenwantit.”
Emillie gaped at her. Oh, shewantedit, alright. They had even discussed her going through the high fae ritual to connect her to Silve and complete the mating bond on her side. But that did not negate the weeks Luce spent wondering if Emillie desired such a connection.
“I never said no,” Revelie pointed out.
“It is anobsession.” Luce looked at her. “He does notloveyou, Revelie. At least…not yet. Do not promise him anything you can’t uphold.”
At that, Revelie grimaced and studied Jakhov, doubled over just inside the doors. His chest heaved, and Lhuka crouched beside him, whispering. What he said, Emillie could only guess.
“We will not be able to do anything to help here in Algorath,” she said to Revelie, “unless you speak with him. He needs to understand that we are made to lose blood regularly. It will not harm us.”
“I know.” Revelie picked up the skirt of the dress she had borrowed and stepped away from them. First, she addressed Lhuka, who looked up at her as though she were nothing short of a miracle. When he stepped aside, she took his place, her expression set into one that Emillie recognized as the mask she wore with any new customer that stepped into her modiste. The neutral face of polite understanding.
Jakhov nearly jumped out of his own skin when she laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. He drew away from her like a caged animal and turned wide, frightened eyes on her.
To think that someone such as Revelie could scare such a sinister-looking dhemon made Emillie hold back a chuckle. Certainly, her friend was a force to be reckoned with, but she was far more patient and reserved than other Caersan women.
Crossing the garden, Lhuka rubbed his forehead as he said, “They need time, but I think he’ll be okay.” Then he looked to Paerish. “What’s the plan?”
