Page 16 of Royal Ransom (Princess Procedural #4)

Maverick

I only made it a few feet into the hall.

Astrid made jumping from world to world look easy, but for me, it was an effort just to open a portal, let alone step through it. Autumn chewed me up and spat me back out hastily, just like everything else. But at least I’d gotten a head start.

Cirro shouted a strange word. I couldn’t decipher its meaning, but something deep within me, the part of my DNA that came from my father, recognized it as the incantation for a violent spell. All the crows hanging on the wall suddenly frosted over with ice, turning them an eerie blue-white. Then they came to life and swarmed me.

“Shit!” I hissed and bent double, still trying to run flat out with limited success.

I swatted them aside only to get clipped by cold, sharp beaks. Soon, I was bleeding from far too many cuts on my arms. While the bites stung, it was nothing compared to the confusion of not being able to see through the swarm of dead birds. The blue-white forms surrounded me like a tornado.

One of the birds got in a lucky shot. The tip of its beak hit my brow, splitting a furrow a few inches across. A burst of crimson stung my eyes, and I flailed, cursing the whole way.

I tripped and fell on my way to the exit. By the time I reached for the handle, Cirro was standing over me, slamming it shut. Then he grabbed my hair and yanked me to my feet before shouting the strange word again. The birds immediately stopped their attack and surrounded me, treading the air while waiting for commands from their master.

I watched the sewn-on button eye of one of the crows fall off, hanging by a slimy string. While I shuddered at the sight, I refused to look up at Cirro. I wouldn’t let him see that he’d scared me. But then he pulled up on my hair, wrapping it around his knuckles before tilting my face to his eyeline. He was seething with rage.

“Well, I’ll be damned. The Queen had a point. It’s the warlock come to play. What are we going to do with you, Mr. Depraysie?” he asked, speaking more to himself than to me.

I gave him the reply he’d never asked for. I brought my knee up swiftly into his groin. Though he doubled over, he didn’t release my hair, taking me down with him. Once we were both on the ground, I jabbed my fingers into his throat, making him cough and sputter. But the bastard still didn’t let go of my hair. His hand was clenched into a tight fist, leaving me with no escape. No non-magical escape, anyway.

I racked my brain for a defensive spell, but nothing came. I was beginning to suspect that the cold of Winter had seeped through my cuts, slowing my reaction time. And even though he looked like a dandy, he was still a full Sidhe, whereas I was only a changeling. When it came to fisticuffs, that mattered.

“Get the fuck off me!” I snarled.

Cirro pinned me to the floor, pressing an arm against my throat. He was breathing heavily, a strained sound like something was rattling in his lungs. Though I struggled beneath his weight, it was no use. The cold was spreading, pulling me forcefully down toward sleep.

The last thing I saw was Cirro rearing back his fist before it collided with my face. I felt pain, a slight ringing, a splitting headache. And then, nothing but blackness.

***

I woke up tied to a table. And that was a mercy. I hadn’t expected to wake up at all.

I didn’t think it was possible to feel worse than this morning, but the ringing in my head and pain in my cheek made a strong case for it. The rest of my skin was icy against the metal slab. I wanted to fight my restraints but feared what would happen. For instance, what if my skin stuck to the table and ripped clean off, like that kid with his tongue stuck to the pole in that Christmas movie? Maybe movie logic wasn’t the best thing to rely on in a crisis, but I didn’t have a lot of reference points for being fused to cold metal.

My eyes roved over what I could see of the room, taking in details before I could start to panic. I didn’t recognize this place from our last visit to Blood Rose. It was freezing and white, with mirrored walls and a tiled floor. Scattered around me were equipment and machines I’d never seen before, mostly boxes. The boxes beeped and whirred, making strange, disconcerting sounds.

I was still wary of a nasty surprise, but I tried to lift my head. A thick leather belt held me down by the neck, barely allowing me to shift my head an inch from side to side. I noticed the ceiling had the same patterned tiles as the floor.

Where the hell am I? I thought. That’s when I noticed I was dressed only in the boxers I’d left on under my puffy pants. That explained the chill. Of course, being this exposed made a deeper chill steal over my body, entirely separate from the room’s dank coldness. What exactly did Cirro need me undressed for?

“Ah, you’re awake,” Cirro’s voice said somewhere to my left.

I tried to turn my head to look at him, but no luck. “What the hell are you doing to me?”

“Oh, nothing,” he replied. “Yet.”

Skin be damned! I thought as I wriggled against the restraints. Luckily, I didn’t stick. I barely slid. My heartbeat skyrocketed to the point of hearing it thundering in my ears. “Not that I’m complaining, but why am I still alive?”

Cirro laughed. “Are you really so stupid that you can’t figure that out for yourself?”

“I’m freezing my nuts off over here. It’s demanding more of my attention than I’d like. Mind giving me the CliffsNotes version?”

Cirro’s laugh sounded more genuine this time. Beneath it all, he was still a man. Don’t ask me why, but many of us take perverse pleasure in watching another man’s pain, especially if it involves the genitals. I tried to squirm off the table, with no luck. He might be a slacker, but he hadn’t skipped the lessons in restraining a prisoner.

“Struggle all you like. Those restraints will still be there when you’re done.”

“Where have you taken me?”

“Oh, we never left the castle,” he said dismissively. “We simply came below it. The founders had such grand imaginations. I doubt I’ve uncovered even half the tunnels and secret war rooms they built into this place over the years. I have half a mind to transform it into a fortified palace for my Queen. She’ll forgive me one slip for a well-built defensive position in the mortal world.”

Under the Academy, I thought, recalling old layouts I’d seen in the library. Searching for Astrid had been a long and grueling process, and I’d spent more time than I wanted to admit hunched over books, praying for clues. This must have been one of the decommissioned potions labs from the 1940s, before the Academy’s most recent renovation.

If I was in the Academy, then Tally was still close by. Unless Basil got the drop on her, knocked her unconscious, and dragged her through a portal, she would be coming for me. And I didn’t think Basil was the backstabbing sort. Right, so I just had to keep Cirro talking.

“Why would Janara need a base in the mortal world?” Anyone with even a sliver of genre savvy would have known not to answer the question. But Cirro was an idiot—a young, cocksure idiot who loved to hear the sound of his own voice. So, I wasn’t surprised when he did.

“She plans to recreate the old Faerie kingdoms once she has defeated Autumn.”

I blinked at him in shock. He couldn’t be serious. I knew Janara had screws loose, but I never imagined even she would be arrogant enough to thumb her nose at the mundanes in such an epic fashion. Bringing back the Seelie and Unseelie courts by making Autumn a vassal state would force the otherwise peaceful seasons that weren’t involved in her war to defend themselves and the mundanes alike. Forcing faeries into the spotlight was going to get many humans and monsters hurt. But Janara wouldn’t care as long as she ended up the queen of all in the end.

We had to stop her. Now.

“She’ll get you when I’m done,” he said simply, as if I hadn’t spoken earlier. I could have shouted at him, and he wouldn’t have taken notice. He wasn’t even listening to me anymore. “Don’t worry. You’ll die soon enough. After I’ve gotten the information she wants from you. All will be forgiven when I hand her Olwen’s location.”

It would be a cold day in hell before I turned Tally over to this ponce. I also refused to die at his hand or Janara’s. If I died, it would be taking down Janeth and the other war criminals she associated with. My fate was to go down in a spectacularly bloody confrontation against vampires, not dissected on a metal table like a frog.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cirro stride back into view, holding a shiny knife in his right hand. The sight of it made me thrash against the table again. The bonds were just as unforgiving as before, and the table seemed impossibly colder, as if Winter itself were trying to reach through my skin and gouge out my spine. I was tempted to shout obscenities at him, but it would only draw a panicked Tally to my position. She needed to have the upper hand.

I was going to suffer at Cirro’s hands. What else was new? Everyone else had gotten their licks in. Might as well give the third-rate Winter Sidhe a shot too.

I reached out in my thoughts, trying to catch her attention without completely thrusting my essence into her head. It was jarring when someone just randomly dropped in on you. Besides, if this was going to hurt as badly as I suspected, I didn’t want her experiencing it vicariously.

“ I was captured and I’m being held in a decommissioned potions classroom. Do not ride to my rescue, even if you hear me scream. A rescue attempt has to come from your head, not your heart, Tally. ”

The moment of silence that followed hollowed me out. I felt my last morsel of hope shriveling into oblivion. Maybe Basil had dragged her away? Maybe I was alone with Cirro? If that was the case, his smug face might be the last thing I ever saw. He was closing in with the knife, wearing a strange mask over the lower half of his face. It was light blue with odd-looking strings that looped behind his ears. I’d never seen a garment like it, and the sight made me even more uneasy. What was it for? To keep bloody spray off his face?

“ I know that, Mav,” Tally said, her mental voice strained. I thought she might be running. “ I was a cop for years. Once I deal with this smelly bastard, I’ll come find you. I need you to hold on as long as you can, sweetie.”

Sweetie. She’d never called me a pet name before. It somehow meant more to me than the dozens of others I’d been called over the years. Because she mattered so much more than anyone else. That was when I remembered she’d said she was dealing with something.

“What are you running from?” I asked.

“Big, furry, and has a bad temper. Probably a yeti, but the lights are off, so it’s hard to tell. What’s your guy like?”

“Skinny, young, and way too sure of himself. He’s Winter Sidhe, so he has enough power to get away with it, but you could hand him his ass easily.”

“Of course,” she said, as though I were stupid to think otherwise. It only made me love her more. There was nothing sexier than a powerful woman who knew just how dangerous she could be. If there wasn’t a threat of a serious magical ass-whooping if I messed up, was it even worth starting the relationship?

The connection went silent as Tally withdrew. And just in time. Cirro had reached the side of the table.

“Gah!” I cried out as the knife made a swift cut along my stomach. I bled freely, and Cirro made no effort to staunch it. I gritted my teeth to keep from screaming, but I barely managed to contain myself. He lifted the blade, now coated in crimson. His pale eyes gleamed in the knife handle’s reflection.

“Tell me where Olwen is, and I’ll let you slip into unconsciousness. Force me to get creative, and you won’t have any fingers left to count with.”

I believed him. But I also believed in Tally. So I leaned up as far as the strap would allow, my hand shaking as the bonds tried to clamp off my circulation. Everything in the room was freezing except for the cut on my stomach, which pumped red blood enthusiastically into the frigid air. I gave him the only answer he was ever going to get from me.

“Go fuck yourself, Cirro.”