Page 10

And filled with power.

If she wanted, she could summon the magic to the surface, calling it forth in a blaze of golden light. Or, with one wrong thought, one wrongdesire,she could summon the death magic inherited from her ancestor, Torvin Corentine. The same magic that had cursed her mother and corrupted her sister. It was inside her now. It hadalwaysbeen inside her.

Kiva shuddered and balled her hands into fists.

“Pick up your axe,” Cresta hissed.

As if through a haze, Kiva looked across at her, noting the urgency puckering her serpent tattoo. And then she saw the reason for Cresta’s concern: the guard who had just rounded the corner and was heading straight for them.

It was Bones.

A latent survival instinct caused Kiva to swiftly collect her axe and swing it toward the limestone.

Along with the Butcher, Bones was one of two guards whom she had come to truly fear during her ten years at Zalindov. The pale, black-eyed man was wild and unpredictable, usually found with a crossbow over hisshoulders, patrolling atop the outer walls or posted to the guard towers. That he was underground now...

Kiva’s skin crawled as he approached, waiting for him to pass.

He didn’t.

Instead, he stopped directly behind her, his hand shooting forward until his fingers curled around her axe, tugging it away.

Cresta slowed her digging, tension emanating from her as she kept one eye on Kiva and the other on Bones, her hazel gaze screaming a warning.

Kiva swallowed and turned to face him.

“Hello, healer,” he purred.

The gleeful look in his eyes pierced through the numbness she’d felt for weeks, causing fear to flood her veins. Before, as the prison healer, she’d had a modicum of protection from guards like Bones. Not just because she was the only person who could competently provide their medical treatment, but also because she’d had the favor of the Warden. While that hadn’t guaranteed her safety, she’d never faced some of the horrors many of the other prisoners had suffered through.

As a tunneler, she no longer had that protection. And she certainly didn’t have Rooke’s favor anymore.

Bones moved a step closer, and Kiva automatically shifted backwards, her shoulders colliding with the limestone. The inmate to her left hesitated, but then he continued to dig, faster than ever, as if not wanting to draw attention to himself.

But on Kiva’s right, Cresta stopped digging entirely.

“Can we help you?” she asked, leveling a look at Bones.

He barely glanced at her. “Get back to work, Voss.”

It didn’t bode well that he knew Cresta’s name — guards rarely addressed prisoners by anything other than their identification numbers.

Moving his free hand to rest on his crossbow, Bones smirked at Kiva and said, “Let’s take a walk.”

He threw her axe to the ground and reached for her, causing Kiva’s stomach to somersault. But before he could make contact, Cresta wedged her way in between them.

“I like walking,” the redhead said conversationally. “Where are we going?”

Bones slitted his eyes toward Cresta. “This is your only warning.”

She was unmoved, remaining between them like a human barrier.

“Cresta —” Kiva attempted, but her mouth was too dry to continue.

“If Kiva gets to stretch her legs, we should all get to stretch our legs,” Cresta stated, heedless to the danger. Perhaps reveling in it. “Fair’s fair.”

Bones cocked his head to the side as he considered her. “Normally, I’d be curious to see how this plays out. But I’m not in the mood today.” He looked past her and signaled to a pair of tunnel guards, who quickly approached, before his eyes flicked back to Cresta. “You can start digging again, or they can make you. Your choice.”

Kiva’s anxiety grew when Cresta remained defiantly in place, prompting the new guards to grab her, one on each side.