From in front of him, Augustus chortled.
“My men are taking our new shipment to the auction house. You see, Evander caused quite the trouble for some of them,” he replied. “But rest assured, they will be back any moment. As I said, do not do anything stupid.”
“I would not dream of it,” Constantine murmured.
As he stayed a single pace behind his brother, Constantine reached down to his boot and pulled out his knife, slipping its sheathed blade into his sleeve. They walked for a few moremoments in eerie silence before reaching a door with a large padlock.
“Stay still, dearie,” Augustus warned as his arm moved from around Elara’s chest so he could reach into his pocket. “Remember, my knife is still at your throat.”
“I am quite aware,” Elara gritted out, and despite the circumstance, Constantine nearly grinned at her bravery, proud of her.
Augustus pulled out a key, unlocked the heavy padlock, and pulled it from the door. Then, after he wrapped his arm around Elara’s chest once more, he kicked the door open.
“Wake up, you meddlesome beast!” Augustus yelled with glee as he walked Elara into the room. “I brought you company!”
Constantine’s stomach twisted painfully as a most foul odor hit his nostrils, but what he saw in the dim light of the hanging oil lamp was far worse. There, shackled and chained to the wall, was Evander. He was thinner than any man of his build had a right to be, his filthy clothes hanging off a frame that had clearly been denied proper food for a very long time. His face was badly beaten, the bruising deep and layered in the way that spoke of repeated violence, and several chunks of his hair had been torn out, leaving raw patches at his scalp. A scar bisected the left side of his face, still angry and not yet fully healed, and above his collar, burn scars coiled around his neck like a brand, disappearing beneath his ruined shirt.
He looked like a man who had climbed out of his own grave. And yet he was sitting upright against the wall with his jaw set and his eyes open, and when the door swung wide and the lamplight reached him, those bruised eyes did not fill with despair.
They filled with fury.
“Elara.” Her name scraped out of him low and rough, barely above a whisper, as if the effort of producing even that single word cost him considerably. He swallowed, the movement visibly painful, and tried again. “No.” His eyes cut to Constantine, burning with a ferocity that, even shackled and half-starved, made the air in the room feel dangerous as he pulled at his chains angrily.
“Evander,” Elara sobbed.
“Oh, what a lovely reunion,” Augustus crooned, entirely unbothered by his prisoner’s rage. “You see, Evander? I am not so horrible after all. I have even reunited you with your beloved sister. Now I am quite sure you will think twice before laying your hands on my men again.”
Evander’s response was to look at Augustus with an expression of such cold, concentrated hatred that even Constantine felt it.
“When I am free of these chains,” Evander said, his voice quiet and utterly certain. “I am going to kill you.”
Augustus laughed.
“You have been saying that for months,” he replied pleasantly. “And yet here we are.”
Evander said nothing at all. He pulled against his chains one more time, slowly and deliberately, as if testing exactly how much give they had.
“Shall I let you say goodbye to her properly?” Augustus asked, ignoring Evander’s straining against his chains. “You should, you know. Say goodbye. Because come morning, she will be on a ship with the rest of my latest cargo, and you will never seeher again.” His eyes slid to Elara with a smile that did not reach them. “I have already had several very generous offers made for women of your particular description, Your Grace. Raven hair. Blue eyes.” He tilted his head as if appraising her. “You will fetch a remarkable price.”
Constantine opened his mouth, ready to assail Augustus with threats, then he realized that perhaps that would give him the opportunity he needed. He snapped his mouth shut, his free hand going for the hilt of his knife as Augustus removed his from Elara’s throat, and gave her a shove.
Constantine did not wait, did not breathe as he took the moment and crashed the hilt of his knife into the back of Augustus’s head, the second Elara was out of his arms. Augustus fell to the ground with a grunt, but only to his knees.
Above, shouting erupted, followed by pounding footsteps.
“You are too late, brother,” Augustus said, his evil smile returning to his face as he looked up at Constantine from his hands and knees. “My men have returned, and they will not allow you to leave my ship alive.”
His heart pounding, Constantine delivered another blow to his brother’s head; this time, knocking him out cold.
“The keys,” Elara stammered, holding Evander tightly to her. “Get the keys, quick!”
Constantine dropped to his knee beside his unconscious brother, his hands trembling as he searched for the keys to Evander’s shackles. After what seemed to take far too long, he found them and made quick work of the locks. The shackles fell away, and Evander immediately pushed himself forward from the wall, refusing the hand Constantine offered him. He made it to hisfeet through sheer will alone, but the moment his full weight came down on his left leg, the leg buckled, and he caught himself against the wall with a sharp, bitten-off curse.
He stood there for a moment, breathing through it, his hand pressed flat against the wall and his jaw set with the particular expression of a man who was furious at his own body for its limitations.
“Lean on me,” Constantine said quietly.
Evander looked at him for a moment, then gave a single, tight nod and took his arm. It was clearly not an easy concession for him to make.
