Cora was frozen halfway toward reaching for her quiver. Her mind went to Valorre. It couldn’t be…
The Roizan stood and growled at the open door.
Morkai turned narrowed eyes upon her. “Do you have a friend, Aveline?” Her guilt must have shown on her face for he broke into a dark laugh. Turning to the Roizan, he shouted, “Find it.” The Roizan darted across the room, sending the guard diving out of the way as the creature squeezed through the door.
Cora’s hand closed around the strap of her quiver?—
“Seize her,” Morkai said. Cora dove for her bow, but the guard was faster. He tore the weapons from her grip and twisted her arms behind her back. Morkai gathered up her bow and quiver as the guard hauled her out the door. She struggled the entire way down the stairs, through the dark halls, but it was no use. The guard evaded her every attempt to free herself. Soon the stench of rot filled her nostrils. Panic set in as they entered an eerily familiar part of the castle. Not eerie in the same way she’d feel if they’d been heading for the former queen’s chambers. This sense of terrifying recognition came from returning to a place Cora had only been once before.
The dungeon.
40
The fight left Cora’s body. Dread filled her core as the guard hauled her over one armored shoulder. They marched past cell after cell, some doors closed while others gaped open. The dungeon hall was lit only by the occasional lamp. It was exactly how she remembered it. Dim. Terrifying. Cold. The unsettling familiarity swept Cora into memory. She was small again. A girl who’d just been on the receiving end of her brother’s misplaced wrath. Tears had streamed down her cheeks as her pleas went unheard. Her brother had refused to step foot in the dungeon hall and instead stood at the doorway, watching as she was dragged away from him without an ounce of pity in his glazed eyes.
She looked at the same doorway now. It was empty this time, shrinking behind her with every step the guard took. But she remembered the sheen in Dimetreus’ hollow gaze. Her brother had been under Morkai’s glamour even then. It made sense now. She’d met the Roizan that night six years ago, which meant the duke had already created a vessel for dark magic, already had the ability to weave a long-standing glamour.
Her captor stopped outside a closed cell. She renewed her struggle, but the guard only squeezed her tighter. From ahead, she heard the clang of metal on metal. A door being unlocked. The guard set her roughly down and shoved her inside the now-open cell. She stumbled back into darkness and landed on the damp stone floor. Pushing herself off the ground, she whirled toward the door. Two figures were backlit by the dim light outside the cell. One was unmistakably Morkai. She hadn’t noticed he’d come too.
He threw something at her feet and slammed the cell door. His voice came through a thin barred window. “If only one of you remains alive by sunrise, that person can leave.”
Two sets of footsteps retreated.
She blinked into the room, willing her eyes to adjust to darkness. The tiny window provided barely enough light to see her own hands at first. But soon she began to make out shapes from the shadows. A pile of straw. A chamber pot. And a humanlike form in the corner.
She’d already known she wasn’t alone.
If only one of you remains alive by sunrise, that person can leave.
Her gaze darted to her feet where she found her quiver with not even a dozen arrows left inside. That must have been what Morkai had thrown inside the cell with her. He wanted Cora to kill whoever was in here with her.
Or…he wanted the other person to kill her.
The form stirred, shifted. She bent down, grabbed an arrow in each hand. The figure rose to standing at the same moment she did. It stepped closer while Cora stood her ground, prepared to fight. She assessed every edge of her adversary’s silhouette, seeking any sign that they held a weapon too, until…
Until they stepped into the sliver of light streaming in from the barred window.
It was Teryn.
She wasn’tsure whether to feel relief or anger, but she didn’t have time to consider either emotion. He moved toward her, and she drew her arm back, ready to plunge her arrow?—
He didn’t close in.
Instead, he leaned against the opposite wall with a sigh. She shifted her stance so she could see him more clearly. He was still dressed down to his shirt and trousers, his neckcloth hanging untied around his open collar. His face was bruised, his lower lip split. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall. “He doesn’t expect us to kill each other, nor does he want us to,” he said, voice heavy with fatigue. “He needs me alive, remember?”
She looked down at the arrows in her hands. “Then why did he leave me with these?”
“Because he wants us to distrust each other. Either that or…or he wants to test our friendship so he can use us against one another.”
She pointedly ignored the second part of his statement. “Distrust has already been well established between us, thanks to you.”
“I can’t keep saying I’m sorry if you won’t believe it.”
“You haven’t said it nearly enough for me to even start to believe it. We’re here because of you.”
She expected him to argue, to say they were there because ofher, because she’d lied about her identity, because she was a wanted fugitive.
But he said none of that.
