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Anger pulsing through my veins, I reach for my blade. Before I can tear it from my belt, Valdus grabs my arm and pulls me toward the stairs.

“Did you hear something?” says the younger one.

“A lot of weird noises around here. You better get used to it.”

The guards are far enough away not to hear us when Valdus finally drops my hand. “No use starting a fight when we’ll have what we came here for.”

Even if I know he’s telling the truth, I still struggle to obey. My father breeds monsters to guard him and his precious empire, and I’m ready to put a dent to his power. As Valdus gives me another tug, I sigh and put my sword away. Today won’t be the day I’ll face his mindless soldiers in a battle. Today, I’ll steal something from under his nose.

Wails of suffering prisoners chase us down spiraling stairs and deeper into the dungeons. It’s when we reach the last floor that I stop, and Valdus bumps into me.

“What’s wrong?” he says when I don’t move.

His voice carries through the hall at the bottom of the stairs and all the way back to us. The only sound other than the sobs of suffering.

“Do you think my father forgot to schedule a patrol, or are we just terribly lucky?”

Numair looks both ways, as if trying to see something that is not there. He dashes down a passageway with a promise to be back soon.

“Something is wrong,” I say when another scream echoes through the corridors. The flames in the lamps waver as if unable to carry the burden of agony nested in this place. “You can feel it too.”

“We can’t go back. Not when we’re so close,” Valdus murmurs as we spot Numair at the end of the passage.

He’s back with us in a few large strides, urgency ringing in his voice as he speaks. “I’ve heard them.”

“Where?”

“Just a few cells down that way.”

I dash after him, my worries long forgotten. Valdus is right on my heels. We round a corner and come to a halt under the flickering flames. A wall just like any other rises ahead of us, but Numair looks at it as if the fate of the whole desert depended on it.

“What are we waiting for?” I ask, no longer caring if anyone can hear us.

When he still doesn’t move, I grab his wrist and tug him toward the wall. He wakes from his stupor with a shake of his head and grabs Valdus’s shoulder. Another step and—no matter how much I’ve learned to dread this moment—I close my eyes and let my breath leave my lungs. The stones part to let us through, and we’re on the other side before I know it. Yet I wait until Numair drops my hand to fill my lungs and open my eyes.

When I see what waits for us inside, I stumble back. My back hits the wall, but it no longer grants me passage. I still press into it even harder, for the blade digging into my neck is sharp enough to draw blood.

41

Asquad of soldiers floods the small cell but neither Inara nor Damen are in sight. I squirm, searching for Valdus, but the blade of the sword digs deeper into my neck opening a wound I don’t dare to heal. The guard who has chased me through the palace on my last night inside its walls is the one holding me down now. He won’t even let me take a deep breath. Still holding me pinned to the wall, Idris rips the mask off my face and my scarf falls over my shoulders. The indifference etched in his features tells me the only thing I need to know. This was never a rescue mission, but a trap my father has set.

I search for my companions, only to see Numair melt into the shadows and through the stone. In the blink of an eye he has vanished, and no one noticed.

“Well, well,” says a familiar voice. I look up as Siro strolls into the cell with his hands clasped behind his back. His smile drips with malice as he comes closer, his rasping voice filling the room. “If it’s not the Lost Jewel wandering yet again through the places she’s not allowed into.”

He motions to Idris, and the soldier pulls away, following the orders of his captain.

He shouldn’t have.

Even before the metal can unfurl into sharp swords, I break the circle of guards. The one closest to me reaches to grab my arm, but I dance away, slicing his arm open. He clutches it with a moan of pain, but I’m onto the next opponent, who’s drawing his own sword. We swirl with a clash of blades, but even I can see past his pathetic stance. As soon as he strikes at me, I duck and slash at his legs, tearing through cloth and muscle. He goes down with a howl, but another guard takes his place.

I grip my swords harder, knowing full well that no matter how many I’ll wound or kill, I can’t face an army alone. A stutter in my step, and Idris wraps my wrists in a harsh grip. My struggle is a futile battle, and in the end, he wrenches the blades from my hands.

“Don’t touch her.”

A groan follows, and we all stop our scuffle to see a man fly across the cell. Another four circle Valdus as his gaze burns where Idris is bruising the skin of my wrists.

None of the soldiers take the first step. They’ll catch Valdus if he tries to escape, but none is eager to face The King of Rebels in a fight when their companion is yet to climb back to his feet where he has slumped against the wall.