“You need to escape and find the others.” His voice drops even lower. “It’s the only way to end her reign before she destroys us all. Our fate is in your hands.”
“I will.” The words are a vow. “I will give my life for this realm.”
We clasp hands briefly. His grip is strong, his palm calloused and warm.
“I need to ask a favor,” I say before he can drop the shroud.
“What is it?”
“The human performer. The woman who was taken with me.” I meet his eyes. “Help her. If you can. I know she undid my spell somehow, even if she didn’t mean to. She’s good and kind and innocent. She doesn’t deserve to be locked up in here.”
Belen’s expression softens. “I’ll see what I can do, Your Grace. But you must be careful who you trust, including her. She may have helped you, but we don’t know why. We don’t know if it was intentional or where her true loyalties lie. She might be working for Snow. The queen has spies everywhere.”
I don’t think so, but I keep the thought to myself.
“You are right,” I tell him, because there is some truth to what he was saying. I can’t fully trust what I felt while my spell was being broken.
“Once you’re free, don’t use your power. Not even a whisper of it. Find the others and lay low until you can devise a plan.” He releases my hand. “Now hit me square in the jaw.”
I blink. “What?”
“Hit me.” He gestures to his face. “When I drop the shroud, if the guards are watching, I want you to hit me again. They need to believe you attacked me. That I was trying to question you, and you became violent. I can’t lose the queen’s trust. I have worked hard to earn it so that I might be ready to be of service when the time comes.”
“Are you sure? Surely—”
“Very sure. They will retaliate, but, more than likely, will not use their magic on you unless absolutely necessary. We all have a quota. The higher our rank, the less she takes. Lowly guards are drained heavily every week. Keep that in mind. It’s the same in all the courts. They rarely use their power. If they do, it will only be a trickle. Now hit me. Do it now while the shroud is still up. I can’t be seen to be helping you. I need to keep my reputation intact.”
I pull back my fist and drive it into his jaw.
His head snaps to the side. He staggers but doesn’t fall; blood drips from his mouth as he smiles at me.
“Good,” he growls. “If need be, hit me again when the shroud drops. Make it convincing.”
The shadows begin to dissipate, flowing back into him…back into the shadows themselves, flying across the room.
There are several guards at the gate to the cell, which is standing open.
I hit him again, harder this time. My knuckles connect with his cheekbone, and I feel the impact all the way up my arm.
Belen goes down and hits the floor hard.
Boots thunder as the guards rush in with weapons drawn.
“He attacked me!” Belen yells, pointing at me, more shadow flying from his finger. They hit me hard in the chest, knocking me back. “The insolence!” Belen snarls.
The first guard reaches me before I’ve gotten my feet fully under me. He swings the hilt of his sword at my head, and I twist sideways, letting it glance off my shoulder. The momentum carries him too far forward. I grab a fistful of his tunic, haul him in close, and drive my elbow into the bridge of his nose. Cartilage gives way with a wet crunch. He drops his sword and staggers backward, blood pouring down his chin.
I snatch the blade before it hits the stone.
The second guard comes at me fast. I bring the stolen sword up to parry his strike. He’s strong, but he’s sloppy, too confident, too used to hitting prisoners who don’t fight back. I sidestep his next swing, slam the flat of the blade into his wrist, and when his grip loosens, I kick him square in the chest. He goes down hard on his back, wheezing, his weapon skittering across the floor.
For the span of two heartbeats, I’m standing with a sword in my hand and two guards on the ground, and the others hesitate.
Before I can take so much as a step, more rush into my cell, coming at me all at once.
A fist connects with my kidney from the left. I swing the blade toward the one on my right, but another guard catches my arm mid-arc, wrenching it back. A boot hooks behind my knee, and my leg buckles. I connect with a meaty midsection usingmy elbow, and the guard groans. Before I can feel any kind of satisfaction, someone hits me across the forearm, and the sword is torn from my grip.
I throw an elbow into the face of whoever has hold of me, and I hear him grunt, but there are too many hands now. Too many bodies pressing in. A punch drives into my stomach, and the air leaves me. I double over, and a knee comes up to meet my jaw. My teeth snap together, and I taste blood.
