“Where are the dregs?” I question, hoping he will show or tell me and leave me the hell alone.
“Eager to get there or away from me?” He turns his head and lowers his face into a shaft of light. It’s the first time I’ve gotten a good look at him. He isn’t unattractive, but I still find him and his suggestive remarks repulsive. His light hair has a curl to it, making him look boyish, but I doubt that description would fit him.
“I’m sure you have better things to do than escort me,” I retort, appealing to his ego.
He straightens to his full height and tugs at the velvety lapels of his cloak as if my reply or my reaction to seeing his face wasn’t what he expected. “With a tongue like that, I doubt you’ll be in the dregs long,” he mutters before turning to resume walking.There’s a definite air of suspicion in his tone that wasn’t present moments before. The problem is, I don’t understand why.
The closer I move toward the light, the more I have to squint my eyes in lieu of shielding them altogether. There are torches along the wall, but unlike the illuminated promise of warmth I hoped for, there is no heat coming from the flames—at least none I can feel. Maybe it’s so cold the small fire won’t make a difference, or maybe this place consumes warmth. I feel like it’s taken any heat I may have had from me already, leaving me hollowed out like the void Syrinx accused me of being.
When I see the arch of a stairway leading up, I get the first hint of what my mind already tried to tell me days ago—we’re far underground. Something deep within me sighs in relief at the thought of climbing up, maybe even out, but another part of me is dreading the ascent. I remember how taxing the stairs at the Ivy were the first few days after my arrival and how out of breath I was after just a flight or two, and the idea is even more daunting now.
The male takes another quick look to make sure I’m coming, then he seems to disappear up with a bounce as he mounts the stone steps two at a time. Ziv could easily do that, even with me held against his chest. The longing hits me so strongly, I have to grab the wall to keep myself from falling. I grit my teeth and ignore the prickling feeling behind my eyes telling me I want to cry. I remind myself that he doesn’t know where I am, even though he threatened he would always be able to find me, and that they will eventually come for me, but the ache doesn’t subside—if anything, it deepens.
I use it to spur me up the stairs. Every time I lift my leg to climb another rung, it puts distance between me and the thoughts of them until the only pain I feel are my thigh muscles.
When I reach the top, I shuffle to the side and place my back against the wall next to the stairs so I don’t topple back down.When I bend over, I nearly throw up, fighting not to release any liquid I might still have in my body by holding my breath. By the time I feel like I can exhale without puking, I’m so lightheaded, I think I might pass out instead.
“You’ll fight, huh?” The male speaks softly enough it could almost be a whisper, but it’s too accusatory to be that.
I lift my eyes while still bent over and give him a death glare I could never back up, but self-preservation demands I do it anyway. “Yes,” I grate out, hauling myself upright.
The male laughs heartily then shakes his head with disbelief. “Too bad getting an A for effort won’t get you jack shit around here,” he scoffs then gestures toward a closed door. “The dregs.” He leaves without another word to me.
There’s a fleeting moment where I wonder if maybe I should have been nicer to him—earning favor doesn’t always mean giving access to your body—but then I remember the way he looked at me like I was a meal he wanted to devour, and the notion disappears.
I think about sitting down near the door. I don’t really want to deal with anyone else or fight for my survival, but the thought of other bodies beyond the door entices me. Other bodies could mean heat. Surely the closed door would have trapped some warmth inside, right?
I hesitate long enough that the door opens without any effort on my part, and three people emerge. Their steps and chatter halts when they see me holding onto the wall for support. “Is that a ghost?” the female in the back mutters, barely moving her lips.
“Gods, if not then she probably will be soon,” the other female replies.
“Do you think her lips are always that color?” the single male questions. I hate that they are talking about me like I’m not even here, but not enough to do anything about it.
I jerk forward, and all three of them stumble back. I wonder if this is how Kage feels. I can’t say I hate it. I don’t spare them another glance before grabbing the open door and pulling myself through it.
BRIAR
Slipping through the door without being noticed is easy. There aren’t any guards or sentries waiting for my arrival.
My first observation is that the space is much larger than I expected, but barracks is the correct description. There are bunks that sleep two lined along each wall, leaving an aisle between them. I tuck myself into the corner, hoping I will continue to go unnoticed until I can get a sense of the space, but when I step on a pallet on the floor, I realize this isn’t just a dark corner, it’ssomeone’scorner.
I move my foot off the crumpled blankets but otherwise stay put. My only other choice is to walk straight down the center ofthe beds, and I’m not ready for that. Not only is it a long room, which I’m not sure I could cross without needing a break, but it would mean everyone could see me.
“Where have you been, Kyle?” The voice comes from the bottom bunk. I want to curse the fact that I’ve been noticed so fast, but instead I debate whether or not I could pass for Kyle and just give a noncommittal answer.
“Hey, I’m talking to you, birdbrain.” The voice grows harsher, and then I see a face poke out of the side of the bed, her pale gray eyes narrowed in my direction. The quick way the same eyes widen in shock would be comical if I wasn’t just as surprised by her sudden appearance.
“I’m not Kyle.” I manage not to sound half dead, which I have to take as a win at this point.
“I can see that.” She smoothly pulls herself out from under the bunk and gets to her feet. Her gaze is wary, and I hope that means I don’t look as pathetic as I feel and she will just let me curl up somewhere and lick my wounds before she challenges me for breathing. I’m confident that if I wasn’t freezing to death, and if I’d eaten in the past few days, then I could at least give her a run for her money… maybe.
“Who are you and why are you in Kyle’s bed?”
“I didn’t realize people had dibs on floor space,” I retort with what I hope sounds like bravado.
“You earn what you get,” she says, repeating the same sentiment as the male who left me here. “Did you do something to Kyle?” She looks me up and down.
“Not unless Kyle was one of the bugs I killed in my cell.”
