Page 222 of Of Masks and Fury

“Come on, Minx. Wake up.” I pressed my palm to her forehead, reaching for my magic to heal her. The power that usually thrummed beneath my skin felt distant, muffled, like I was trying to shout through water.

I reached for Gavelle through our bond.

Nothing. The emptiness where my companion should be felt like losing a limb. I pushed harder, straining against whatever barrier separated us, but the bond remained severed.

Magic-dampening. Someone had built this building specifically to hold people like us, I suspected to hold them until they could deliver them to Caldrith for a Day of Mercy.

“Fuck.” I tore a strip from my shirt, working by touch alone to wrap Isi’s head wound. My hands shook as I tied the makeshift bandage, gentler than I’d ever been with anyone in my life.

She still didn’t wake up.

I left her lying on the ground only long enough to examine our prison. The shed was a quarter the size of a bathing chamber, and the smooth walls felt like metal. They buzzed beneath my touch. Tiny cracks between the metal panels let in only the vaguest hint of light. I found a door I couldn’t budge despite throwing my full weight against it. The only opening was a small hatch near the floor that might be for passing food. It wasn’t big enough for even a child to fit through.

There appeared to be no weaknesses here and no way out.

I returned to Isi and gathered her against my chest, positioning myself between her and the door. If someone came through, they’d have to go through me first to reach her. At least we weren’t bound.

Her breathing remained steady, and I focused on that sound in the darkness. Each inhale and exhale was proof she lived, even if she wouldn’t wake.

“Open your eyes, Minx,” I whispered against her hair. “Please.”

The hours crawled past. I marked time by counting her breaths and by the gradual slowing of blood seeping through the bandage. My head throbbed from whatever had struck me, but the pain meant nothing compared to holding a motionless Isi in my arms.

Before leaving Syllavar, I’d calculated every possible complication. I’d planned for ambushes, even from someone within our group, and for Skathe attacks. But I hadn’t accounted for small-town people who despised magic users as much as King Cyril. I should’ve. He had a long reach.

I was arrogant. Careless. And now Isi was paying the price for my assumptions.

The hatch scraped open, and a trencher slid through, followed by a water flask. I lunged for the opening, but it slammed shut before I could see who’d delivered the food.

“Wait,” I called out. “She needs a healer. Please.”

Footsteps shuffled away outside.

I wet a strip of cloth ripped from the garment I wore beneath my leather tunic and cleaned the blood from Isi’s face, trickling small amounts of water between her lips. She swallowed, which had to mean something.

Voices filtered through the walls a while later. I pressed my ear to the metal, straining to hear.

“…sure it’s her?”

“The innkeeper swears by it.”

“Those eyes gave her away. It’s not her face, but you know what magic can do.”

“She’s the Caldrith princess, no question.”

“The reward will feed our families for years.”

My jaw locked. Fuck, no.

“We’ll hand her to the king and collect our due.”

Rage and helplessness stormed through my chest. I wanted to tear through the walls with my bare hands, to make every person in this cursed village pay for touching her. But I remained trapped and powerless, holding the woman I loved while she bled in the darkness.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “If only I’d been more careful.” My voice cracked. “I need you to wake up, Minx, and tell me I’m an idiot for apologizing. I need to hear you say something sharp and clever that makes me want to kiss you and throttle you at the same time.”

Nothing.

I held her tighter, my lips against her temple. “I love you. More than my own cursed life. So you don’t get to leave me. You understand? You promised we burn together or not at all.”