Page 11

I don’t believe a single word.

Ayna

About three hours later,I’m no longer able to stand on my own feet. My dress weighs like it is soaked with water, my limbs shaky, and a pulsing pain hammers in my head. Thank the Guardians, Erina ordered me back to my chambers where I’m sitting on the chair by the window and focusing on Kaira in hopes of picking up anything from her end.

Naturally, I don’t expect anything to happen. Both our powers have been subdued, and I’m too far away from her to hear a whisper of her thoughts. I’m about to doze off in my chair when the door opens again. Jerking upright, I ball my hands into fists, an instinct from my time as apirate that I won’t get rid of easily—good thing people usually don’t surprise me in my sleep.

“Lady Wolayna?” It’s the guard who took me to the throne room earlier, his forehead creased and jaw tight as if he’s actually worried I’ll strike him.

“Pouly,” I remember his name.

The man inclines his head. “You have been summoned.”

Stifling a groan, I push back to my feet, swaying for a moment before I manage a slow step. My head, however, I keep high, no matter what awaits me this time.

Pouly watches me with more nervousness than I care for.

“Is something the matter?” I try to keep my voice steady—without success.

In response, he slowly shakes his head. “This is a time-sensitive matter, so I’d appreciate it if you hurried.”

Doing the best I can to get back to my manipulative, controlling, and torturing fiancé, I want to retort, but hold my tongue, doing my best to walk toward him in a straight line instead. “I’m exhausted, Pouly. Perhaps there is a way you could send a servant ahead to deliver a message to Erina that I’ll be late.”

His gray brows raise. “The king has nothing to do with this. And there is truly no room for delay.”

Something about the way he meets me halfway across the room and slides an arm under my elbow to keep me steady is wrong. It’s a familiar gesture yet distanced enough to make it clear he’s a guard and I’m his charge.

“Hurry, Princess,” he murmurs as he helps me to the door, and I realize two things at once: First, he addressed meby the formal title I should hold in these lands, and second, he really isn’t taking me to Erina.

Instead of the wide ornate hallway and curved marble staircase to the throne room, Pouly takes me to a side corridor I’ve used before—the day Kaira, Clio, and I escaped from this palace.

“Where are you taking me?” What should sound like a protest comes out as a whisk of air.

“Not far, Princess Wolayna. We’ll be meeting the others soon.”

“What others?” I stumble over an uneven step as he takes me down another level of wooden staircase into another, even narrower corridor.

“Focus on walking. Questions will be answered in time.” He adjusts his grasp, sliding one arm around my waist while he opens a door with the other.

Darkness greets us alongside the humid odor of the dungeon.

Not the dungeon. Not the dungeon.Fear floods my veins, pushing back all reason, and my heart launches into a wild gallop. The last time I was brought into the dungeon without my request, I was strapped to a table next to Myron. The image of his blood-smeared body still haunts my sleep.

Digging in my heels, I fling my arm out, grabbing for anything I can use as an anchor so he can’t drag me any farther. What if, this time, they have Kaira on a table and I’m forced to watch her bleed again? What if?—

My hand finds iron bars and closes in reflex, clinging desperately to the metal. It’s my bad hand, though, and even at my full strength, my stiff wrist won’t allow me to hold onstrong enough to outmatch Pouly, who utters a curse about how this should have been easy.

Whatever he means by that, I don’t care. I claw at him with both my hands as he detaches me from the bar and pulls me deeper into the dungeon.

“For the Guardians’ sake, Princess. Get yourself together. I’m trying to help you.”

At his words, my body sags until I am nothing more than a sack of potatoes, and my chest tightens with both hope and fear that he’s lying.

Before I can protest some more, or demand to know what is going on, we round a corner, and the shimmer of orange torchlight illuminates the space in front of us. There, Kaira sits huddled against the dirty brick wall, her face so dark with grime I barely recognize her, but her eyes find mine, and all panic ebbs away.

“You’re late,” a familiar voice greets from the corner of the room, making my head snap to the side to spot a woman in leather pants and a dark blouse. Her grizzled hair is what I recognize first; then, the slash of white that is her smile against the brown of her skin.

“Lady Andraya.” Pouly beats me to it, bowing his head as he delivers me to sit beside Kaira. “She’s in a bad state. I might need to carry her the rest of the way if we want to keep our schedule.”