“Now isn’t the time, Hellion,” Ronen replied over Aspen’s, “Since Ronen beat the shit out of me to get my head right.”
I felt like my brain grew legs and abandoned me for a cozy couch and an easy read, leaving me to make sense of a day that had hardly started.
Ronen touched my chin. “We’ll talk about it later, okay?”
Words? What were those? They no longer existed.
I could only nod.
We continued toward Anya, my brain still lounging in its vacation spot while I attempted to drag it back. She had to hear us coming, yet she didn’t grace us with her flirtatious commentary. Couldn’t say I missed her.
Our boots clapped against the damp stone as we marched toward her cell. The sconces whooshed and flickered as we passed, casting a warm yellow glow down the narrow stretch. Pungent orange attempted to cover the sickly, rotten stench of the infection clinging to the oppressive air.
We all stopped in front of her cell.
Had I fallen into some kind of dream-walk or lost my sanity?
Her cot with its plush blanket lay perfectly made. The lock on thecell door appeared intact. The bars between cells were too narrow for anyone to fit through, and the stone floors were untouched. She was just gone.
“Would my father have taken her?”
“He usually left it to me to transport prisoners, but it’s possible.” Ronen’s gaze narrowed on the bed.
I scanned it, finding the line of red at the same time Aspen did.
“Blood.”
Ronen unlocked the cell, and we entered the small, dusty space. He crouched near the bed, following the line of red until he peered beneath it.
“Help me flip this, Aspen.”
“Here.” Aspen handed me a piece of paper. “I found it on the end table. It’s addressed to you.”
Frowning, I opened the letter while Ronen and Aspen tipped the bed against the wall.
Dear Princess,
By now you’re probably peering into my empty cell wondering where I’m at. Unfortunately, to keep my head, I can’t tell you. Seems you needed to figure it out sooner. So let your sexy general know it’s no use searching. Although, just for the fun of it… here’s a hint:
Where do you go when you seek information?
Cold fingers reacheddown my throat and wrapped around my chest.
“Seven Hells,” Ronen breathed.
I looked up from her writing to a six-pointed star painted in what I could only assume was blood on the underside of Anya’s bed. Each point of the star contained a rune: unbinding, destroying, forsaking, overtaking, sacrificing, and a sixthone I couldn’t name.
“Has she been the one behind the demon infection this entire time?” I asked, my voice soft with horror as I handed Ronen the letter.
His jaw ticked, the tendons in his neck looking ready to snap. Shadows bled into his irises as he shoved the note at Aspen.
“I always wondered why a soul who’d been through all the circles would rather be imprisoned than judged for a second time. Why she’d rather stay in the dungeons than the city,” Ronen gritted out. “I thought she feared Hell’s state. That she saw something that scared her with her little divination powers. She played me for a fool.”
I moved toward him, and a stone shifted beneath my feet as I touched his arm. “You didn’t know.”
He shook me off, scanning the other empty cells. “I should’ve. These are my dungeons. It’s my blood that allows us in and out. So how did she get it?”
I stepped back, not sure what to say. The loose stone shifted again, grinding loudly enough that Aspen sank beside it. He motioned me back, then lifted the grimy rock.
