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“The prisoner?”

The silence stretches around and bounces back until the only thing I can hear is the name the guard utters.

Rev.

31

When Togar leaves the house after another veiled threat, I make an oath that if our paths ever cross again, he won’t survive the encounter. Mylena checks on Gavin before returning to the laundry room, where I’m struggling to untangle myself from sheets and towels. My joints prickle with hundreds of pins and needles, my muscles hurt with each breath, but I'm still here. I’m still alive.

Mylena’s eyes are red and swollen. Her cheek still bears the mark of Togar’s palm.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice broken with all the emotions still warring in my heart.

“I didn’t do this for you.” Mylena straightens her kaftan, which is now torn in a few places, and readjusts the locks that have escaped her braid. “Hiding the Lost Jewel in my house would be much more trouble than anyone in this desert could ever stomach. Valdus might not be able to resist your charms, but I’m no fool. As soon as the curfew is lifted, you’re out of my house, and you are never coming back.”

I swallow down everything she throws at me. For her, I’ll always be the princess carried through life on silk pillows, and I have no strength left to enter into another debate.

“Is Togar—”

“Gavin’s father?” she interrupts. “Yes, but it’s even worse for you.”

“What do you mean?”

A wicked smile stretches Mylena’s thin lips. “Don’t tell me you don’t know he’s your brother.”

I stop in my tracks and grab a chair for support. I know most of my sisters except for the ones who had left the palace before I was born. My brothers are a different matter. My father took them away as soon as they could walk and put them through arduous training. I could cross paths with my brother and wouldn’t know it. As it seems to be the case with Togar.

I sink into the chair. Let my head fall down into my hands. Yet I hold back my tears. This isn’t the time to cry. If the guard was right, and Rev escaped, soon, they’ll be combing this town not for an escaped prisoner but for the Lost Jewel. To top it all off, I’m stuck with Mylena while Numair has gone who knows where, and there is still no news from Valdus.

I don’t know when I drift away into a restless sleep, but I wake up when someone nudges my shoulder. I leap to my feet and press myself against the wall, fumbling for the swords strapped to my belt.

“It’s only me,” Valdus whispers, lifting his hands up.

A lonely candle set on the table draws shadows on his face, but I can still see a rugged cut over his cheek and a bruise spreading around it. I take a step toward him, reaching for his face, feeling the power sparkle on my fingertips even before they make contact with his skin. The wound knits shut before my eyes. The bruise turns a fading yellow before it too disappears. Valdus catches my hand and brings it to his lips.

“Is it true? Did Rev escape?” I ask.

Valdus presses my hand ever so slightly. “Someone talked, and Rev has learned about the prisoner’s escape. He took advantage of Joao and Lev being distracted by the news, to steal the keys from Joao’s belt. I had to pull a lot of favors from the guards to cross the blockades set up around town, and I arrived as they were fighting to keep him in the house, but even if he’s not a Wraith, he fights like one.”

“He knows I’m here. He’ll be coming for me.”

Valdus pulls me into his arms, but he knows I’m right. Soon, there won’t be a single safe place for me.

Mylena walks into the kitchen with an empty glass and a distant look in her eyes. We stumble apart, but her gaze trails over my hand, still lodged in Valdus’s. She turns away, clenching the glass so tightly, I fear it might break.

“Do either of you want anything to eat?” the tone of her voice suggests she won’t like any answer we might offer.

“We’ll be going,” Valdus says. “Inara is waiting for Neylan at home.”

An absent shrug is Mylena’s only answer, not even turning toward us as we say our goodbyes and head for the door.

Despite the end of curfew, few have dared to venture out into the streets. The guards are on every corner of the waking city, and their gazes are sharper than the swords strapped to their belts. If they see anyone with a hint of a suspicion, the soldiers demand tags and fast answers to their questions. If anyone hesitates, the guards drag them to the overflowing dungeons of the governor’s household.

The market square is as deserted as the rest of the city. The sand swirls through the tubing of the fountain, dripping from mouths of creatures of old. Set in stone in their fighting stance, they are ready to pounce on merchants, who garner more attention from soldiers than the townspeople.

A group of men ambles through the square, exchanging silver coins for goods they find of interest, glancing over their shoulders with every step they make. Their mended clothes look even dirtier under the rising sun, but they are still the same bandits Togar has faced before chasing us to Mylena’s house.

The tingle of excitement shoots up my back, and I recognize the feeling from my countless encounters with it in the palace.