I swallow, stalling. “Why?”
“I had a sister. They had a daughter. I thought I’d let them get attached, let them know they’d be ripped from her the way my family was ripped from me. As you said”—he nods at the bottle in my hand—“fair is fair.”
There it is. Monster. A vengeful one, at that.
Before he can say more—becausegods,I don’t want to know more—I lunge across the table and force the bottle to his lips. Predicting this, Jude doesn’t bother fighting. The rest of the gold drains from his eyes by the time I lean back in my seat. He wavers like he’s about to keel over.
“I probably deserved that,” Jude mutters and turns to cough. Bits of gold splatter onto the seat beside him, and he’s fighting to keep his eyes open. “But for the record, that was a really bad decision.”
I lower my brow. “Why?”
“Because we’re being followed,” he says, groggy. Then passes out.
Intermission: Scene III
My eyes dart between Jude, unconscious on the seat across from me, and the door. I’m suddenly aware of every fleeting shadow beyond our compartment. I overhear a whispered mention in the hall that we should reach our destination by morning, but it’s the conversation between a second pair of passengers that has my shoulders tensing up to my ears.
“Yes, a missing Player—can you believe it?”
My heart starts to race. There’s nothing I can make out about the woman or her companion through the frosted glass, just that she pauses.
Pauses a beat too long. Her companion murmurs, “Making his way north for vengeance, I heard…” They continue on by, and I can’t hear any more.
In this state, I don’t think Jude is about to avenge anyone. His skin has faded to the pallor of melted wax, and he only awakens to cough miserably, curse, and fall back asleep. A thin layer of gold is gathering under his eyes and at his lips—which have paled white.
Willthey torture him? Kill him? I figured it would be a neat trade, plain and simple. And even if things went poorly, I felt certain I wouldn’t care. But whatever happens to Jude—I’ll be responsible.
One life for the entire North, I chant to myself. That math has to even out somewhere, right? And I’d have done something good. I’d have a life and a name for completing what my father started. I wouldn’t waver in the shadow of Galen’s legacy.
The Players started this game; it’s not my fault that I have to sink to their level to win it.
None of this eases the remorse crowding my mind.
I turn to gaze out the window but meet my faded reflection in the glass and let it drift back to Jude, wondering if I’ve lost the right to call anyone a monster. Maybe some monsters are crafted from survival. I think Jude was.
And I’m starting to worry that I do care. I picture myself dragging him to Syrene’s capital, delivering him to the arms of guards who will be too rough handling him. Probably throw him into some awful cell to keep him restrained.
My conscience groans under the weight. And I’m almost positive Jude is intentionally looking as sad and innocent as possible while he sleeps just to guilt me.
When his breathing goes quiet, though, I start to panic.
“Jude?” I whisper. Nothing.“Jude,”I try again.
There’s a shift outside our compartment. Then quiet again.
I press my lips together, hesitating a moment before launching up to pull the drape to our compartment closed. Then I move next to Jude to check for a pulse, pressing two fingers there at his neck.
A shock of cold moves from his skin up my arm. Startling away, I restrain a gasp when I notice a strange, textured pale color on my index and middle finger. I match it to his neck, where my fingers have left a visible spot, the patch of his skin rubbing off on me like faded ink.
My mind conjures the image of Gene Hunt, her skin chipping away like paint on a doll.
My heart pounds wildly, fear sucking all the air out of the space.
“It was down there—that one, I think.” The voice in the hall is male and suspiciously quiet. My blood dips a few degrees as two large shadows slip past our door.
“If you want help,” Jude mutters, eyes still closed, “you’re going to have to undo the chains.”
I almost cringe at how relieved I am to hear him speak. At least he’s not dead.
