Page 17

Chapter

Seventeen

C assius couldn’t focus on his meal. He was too occupied with thinking over Flora’s words.

Did she really think that his behavior toward her was somehow orchestrated by their tether? Was there any chance she was right? His every instinct rebelled against the idea, but he wasn’t sure whether to trust his instincts anymore.

She wasn’t wrong that his emotions were unsettlingly strong where she was concerned. He didn’t think he’d ever experienced such passion about anything. The anger that filled him anytime he saw Sir Keavling studying her, his anguish whenever she blamed herself for some imagined failure toward him…the absolute despair when he admitted to himself, as he tossed and turned in the early hours of the morning, that he had no way to extricate her from the mess he’d landed her in.

The only way out was to formalize his marriage alliance to Princess Miriam, and not only was the alliance stalled, the prospect was starting to seem unbearable to him. He still thought an alliance with Siqual was the best future for Carrack. But a marriage to the Siqualian princess?

The food tasted like ash in his mouth.

When Cassius heard the door into the corridor open, he turned quickly, thinking Flora may have decided to enter after all. But it was a different guard entirely who entered the room, his eyes finding Cassius at once.

Cassius stood, drawing his mother’s attention.

“Cassius?” The queen’s voice held a reproach as Cassius stood to greet the head of his personal guard.

“Just some pressing business, Mother,” he told her. “It won’t take long.”

He motioned the guard toward the far side of the room, where they could speak in low voices without being overheard.

“Well?” Cassius asked softly. “What have you found?”

His head guard looked grim. “Something, Your Highness. I don’t have conclusive evidence yet, but what I’ve seen is enough to convince me. There’s a problem with Sir Keavling’s papers.”

“What’s the problem?” Cassius pressed. “They were considered valid by the royal archivist when he first arrived at court.”

“They’re very good forgeries,” the man said with a nod. “I’m not surprised they passed as genuine. But I went over them in painstaking detail, like you instructed, going back four generations and comparing them against papers of those with shared ancestors. And there was a discrepancy in one of the names about two generations back. A minor one, that wouldn’t usually raise concern. I decided to follow it up, and I found that the exact same error had appeared in prior versions of the other records, but none within the last century. It had been corrected in all current versions.”

Cassius frowned. “What are you saying? You suspect the documents he presented were copied from inaccurate ones acquired more than a hundred years ago?”

“I suspected it at first. Now I know it. I’ve spent some time learning the history of the Keavling line. Generations back, during a famine, they attempted to emigrate to the continent. They were driven out by the ruling clan of the area, and returned within two years. They were forced to flee, leaving all their effects behind.”

“And someone had the foresight to archive their documents rather than destroy them,” Cassius said thoughtfully.

“There’s more,” the guard said. “The death of the last title holder, so-called uncle of the man claiming to be Sir Keavling, is very suspicious. I rode out to the estate myself, and no one was aware of the late nobleman’s nephew existing until he showed up shortly after his uncle’s death.”

“He’s an imposter,” Cassius growled. He felt some anger, but at least as much relief. He would be able to expel the man now, and end his influence with the king.

Should he raise it with his father at once, though, or wait for concrete evidence? He was silently grappling with the question when he started at the sensation of slim arms being slid around his middle. He didn’t look down to see who’d grabbed him this time—he’d come to recognize the feeling.

Flora.

Cassius turned his face toward the door, frowning. What was going on? Was she just stretching her legs within the tether, or was she actually trying to leave the area?

He seemed to have his answer as the tug became more insistent. For a moment, he stood rooted, his greater physical strength holding the ground as her movements continued to tug at him. This was no accidental brush with the edge of their boundary.

Cassius took a step forward, the pressure easing momentarily then returning.

“Your Highness?” The guard was watching him with furrowed brow.

“Thank you for your report,” said Cassius, taking another step toward the door. “I will consider what’s best to do next.”

“Are you well, Your Highness?”

The guard looked concerned, and for a split second Cassius considered telling him what was happening. He trusted the man more than anyone else on his guard. But he’d gone too long without betraying the tether to do so lightly.

“I’m fine,” he told the other man. “I need to attend to something.”

He was moving toward the door as he spoke, the pull too strong to resist, but he asked one final question.

“Was my Siqualian bodyguard outside the door when you entered?”

His head guard nodded, bemused as the prince kept moving away from him. “She was standing to attention just outside, Your Highness.”

Cassius nodded, trying to seem regal as he practically jogged across the room. She’d only just started moving, then.

“Where are you going, Cassius?” his mother demanded.

“A quick matter, Mother,” Cassius assured her. His father was also staring at him, and he tried not to look ridiculous as he opened the door, his movements jerky. A flash of frustration passed over him. What was Flora playing at? “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Ignoring their protests, he moved out into the corridor, casting his eyes around vainly for Flora. The area was completely deserted. Cassius’s skin prickled, his annoyance lanced with concern. But he was in his own castle, and Flora had been standing there moments before. She obviously hadn’t gone far. And thanks to the tether, it wouldn’t be difficult to find her. She was moving slowly and steadily, not running as she undoubtedly would be if she was in danger.

He strode forward, following the tug of the tether. As he moved into a busier part of the castle, any fear was allayed. If Flora had moved through the area at a sedate pace moments before, she couldn’t be in too great a crisis. When he rounded a corner and found himself looking down a long corridor, however, he paused. Surely the hallway was more than twenty feet long, and yet he could see no sign of her. Plenty of others moved through the space, a pair of guards heading in the direction of their barracks, a group of maids, a servant pushing a trolley.

Cassius was tugged forward once again by the tether, frowning now as he increased his speed. He was surprised when the invisible lead took him through a door and into the garden where he and Flora had snatched a moment of privacy within the hedge spiral. Darkness had fallen, but he could still make out the hedges up ahead. He stood just inside the garden, waiting for another tug.

None came. Flora had come to this garden and stopped. She was somewhere nearby, still mysteriously out of his sight. The only place within twenty feet that she could be hidden was in the hedge spiral. Had she called him here to be alone, away from the prying eyes that were always watching inside the castle?

The thought made his heart lurch, and he stepped forward again. Unease still tugged at him, and his hand tested his side, reassuring himself that the hilt of his sword was in easy reach.

“Flora?”

He spoke softly as he entered the hedge and moved cautiously through its spirals. Relief flooded him when he caught sight of her partway around the first bend.

“Flora.”

He could only see a sliver of her, but he’d know her anywhere. She was sitting on the ground with her back to him, her head leaned back against the hedge, looking up at the starry sky above. When she didn’t respond to his greeting, Cassius strode forward.

“Flora, what—Flora!” Alarm raced over him as he reached her at last, only to find that she wasn’t staring up at the sky at all. Her eyes were closed, and her face was deathly pale.

Cassius knelt down, panic overtaking his better sense as he grasped her shoulder. The contact sent her toppling sideways, the movement masking another one behind him. He knew nothing except a brief moment of blinding pain on the back of his head, then blackness.

Cassius woke to an agonizing headache and an unsettling sense of restriction.

He forced his eyes open. The light was dim, and the air horribly stuffy. He couldn’t seem to move his limbs at all. The disorientation was intense, and for several long moments he couldn’t make sense of where he was.

Then his eyes fell on another shape in the gloom, and ice seized his heart as the events of the evening came rushing back. He’d been so easily manipulated. Someone had discovered not only the tether, but his determination to hide it, and no more had been needed to draw him into a trap like a fool.

And as always, Flora had paid the price for his weakness. Doubly so. While he was bound hands and feet, with a thick rope attaching him to a ring on the wall, Flora was much more brutally restrained. She was upright, ropes binding her to a narrow wooden beam so tightly that her breaths were shallow and labored. Even her head was strapped back. There were no obvious injuries on her, but her eyes were closed, and her lips and cheeks were colorless. In addition to whatever means their enemies had used to subdue her, she would have suffered twice the impact of the blow Cassius took, even if she’d been unconscious at the time and unable to feel it happen. It was a wonder she was still alive.

“Flora!” It came out as a rasp, Cassius struggling against his bonds.

To his relief, her eyes flew open at once. He could see the panic in their dark depths, and he willed her to keep her gaze locked on him, to find an anchor there.

“It’s all right, Flora. I’m here. We’ll find a way out of this.”

She didn’t respond, and peering through the dimly lit space, he realized that on top of everything else, she had a thin gag threaded around her mouth.

He swallowed the rage he was feeling, knowing that cursing and swearing vengeance wouldn’t help her right now.

“Do you hear me, Flora?” he said firmly. “Don’t give up on me, all right?”

A single tear leaked down her cheek, sending a metaphorical dagger through Cassius’s heart. But she kept her eyes on his, and he could see her gaining control of herself.

“Did you see who’s behind this?” he asked.

She strained a little, but it occurred to him that bound as she was, she couldn’t even nod or shake her head.

Cassius let out a hiss of frustration. “They don’t want you moving at all,” he realized. “They don’t want you to have access to any magic to harness.”

He looked around the space, which appeared to be a root cellar. That must be why the air was so still.

“I’m not as tightly bound,” he mused. “I can move around some. Can you harness the magic from my movement?”

His words were hopeful, but it only took one glance at her sagging form to remind him that she was in no state for advanced magical feats. He remembered something from his studies about it requiring incredible strength to wrest magic from someone else’s movements, akin to the mental version of battling them with your bare hands.

Flora was again unable to answer his question with words or head movements, but she flicked her eyes backwards and forwards, which he took as an attempt to shake her head.

“Don’t worry,” he told her quickly. “You don’t have to do anything. Just let your body rest as best you can. I’ll figure something out.”

His words had the opposite effect to what he intended. He saw familiar determination blaze into life in Flora’s eyes. Already some color was returning to her as he mused aloud about their situation. How long had she been awake and alone, succumbing to panic in the gloom of the cellar?

Flora’s eyes darted around, taking in the small space. There wasn’t much they could use. But as Cassius watched, one of her shoulders started to shift. It wasn’t much movement, but from the determined way she kept doing it, Cassius assumed it was stirring up something. A tiny movement caught his eye, and he gestured to it with his head.

“Look! A beetle. You don’t have to fight animals to harness their movement, right?”

Flora didn’t answer, but her attention was bent on the insect in a way that confirmed his question. Cassius watched, hypnotized by the rhythmic motion of her shoulder and the intensity of her focus on the beetle. Sweat began to bead on her forehead, and before his eyes, the rope around her moving shoulder loosened ever so slightly. He could tell because the movements of her shoulder became more pronounced. It seemed her plan was to use what little magic she could gain to free herself inch by inch, each new step allowing greater movement that would compound the effect of what she was doing.

Judging by how minimally the rope at her shoulder had loosened, it would be a long and tedious process. Did she have the strength for that?

“Don’t overdo it,” he said anxiously. “Don’t put all the magic to the task instead of using half for your own energy. In fact, maybe you should just use it all for your energy until you’ve recovered some strength.”

Flora didn’t respond, but the set of her jaw communicated stubbornness, and Cassius’s alarm flared .

“I mean it, Flora. Don’t kill yourself trying to get free, what would be the point? If you manage to create enough movement to harness magic, use it all to replenish your energy.”

She gave a muffled grunt, and he realized that her expression wasn’t defiant so much as frustrated.

“That’s not right, is it?” he mused, thinking back over what he’d said. He tried to recall his studies in magic. “You can’t use magic that way.”

Flora couldn’t nod any more than she could shake her head, but she looked less frustrated, so he took it as a sign that he was on the right track.

“I recall now,” he assured her. “Magic can be used as energy to fuel its own activity under the hand of the one harnessing it, but it can’t be turned into pure energy, to just be absorbed or held by someone.”

He looked down at his own bound hands. “Would it be easier for you to free my hands first? Then maybe I could use them to get my feet free, and I could try to reach you and—”

He cut off abruptly at the sound of approaching footsteps. Flora froze as well, watching the door warily. It flung open, and a burly man Cassius had never seen before appeared in the frame.

“Awake, are we?” The man grunted as he moved into the room. “You’ll come with me, then.” His words were directed at Cassius, and he ignored Flora completely.

“Do you understand what you’ve done?” Cassius’s voice rang through the stuffy space. “Do you think you can abduct and imprison a prince of Carrack with no consequences? You will all be hanged, every one of you.”

“Inclined to be difficult, are we?” The man gave a whistle, and another thickset captor appeared. He loomed menacingly over Cassius as the first man untied him from the chain on the wall.

“Don’t think to lead me about like a dog,” Cassius spat at the man’s feet. “We are not animals, and we will not be treated as such.” He inclined his head toward Flora in an imperious gesture. “Unbind her at once.”

“Not likely,” scoffed the second man.

The first one had unfastened Cassius from the wall. “Now are you coming willingly, or do we drag you?”

“I’d like to see you try.” Cassius forced the words through gritted teeth, his outrage at the insult not just to him but to his kingdom almost robbing him of the ability to speak.

“I don’t think you would like to see it,” the man told him matter-of-factly. “It wouldn’t be pretty.” He jerked a thumb toward Flora, who was watching wide eyed but immobile. “Our orders are to run her through if you won’t cooperate. Apparently we don’t strictly need her anymore.”

Rage, more potent than anything Cassius had felt in his life, lanced through him. But he had to keep his cool. He couldn’t show them how easily they could manipulate him by threatening Flora.

“Your orders, are they? And who is giving these orders?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” the man said. “That’s why we’re here for you.” He grinned unpleasantly from where he was squatting, freeing Cassius’s feet. “You’ve been summoned by the boss.”

Cassius threw a final glance at Flora, trying not to let the men see how much he was motivated by fear for her. Those dark eyes stared back at him, their expression raw and intense.

With an effort, he pulled himself away, his heart thudding in his chest as he followed the men from the cellar. They emerged into some kind of abandoned dwelling, dilapidated and dirty. The room above the cellar contained a table and two chairs and nothing else. Biting back the anger he longed to vent, he allowed himself to be shoved into one of the chairs, his legs swiftly tied to its base and his hands untied from in front of him before being swiftly retied behind his back.

He felt no surprise at the lean figure that strolled into the room, but a growl still issued from his throat, long and low, when the self-titled Sir Keavling seated himself across the table.

“Your Highness,” he said pleasantly, his accent nothing like the one he’d been using in Crandell. “So nice of you to join me.”

“You will die for this,” Cassius said, his voice vibrating with passion. His thoughts were on Flora, tied up below.

“I don’t think I will,” Sir Keavling said. “Dying isn’t a part of my plans.” He leaned forward. “And my plans are very carefully laid.”

“What do you want from me?” Cassius spat.

The other man leaned back, interlacing his fingers. “What I did want was your cooperation. Or even your passivity. If you’d just stepped out of my way, we wouldn’t be in this situation. But instead you took great pains to make it clear that I would not succeed in my goals until I had removed you from the picture.”

His eyes were keen as they considered Cassius’s face. “It’s an inconvenience I didn’t wish for, but don’t let it concern you. It won’t be wasted. I’ve found a way to make your disappearance serve my purposes perfectly.”

“And what purposes are those?” Cassius growled. The audacity of this man was staggering, thinking he could order the future of Carrack according to his whims. “Why do you care if we ally ourselves with Siqual?”

“The kingdoms of the continent have other plans for Carrack, that’s why,” the imposter said idly. “There’s absolutely no need for you to know what they are.”

“You were behind the attack on Princess Miriam, weren’t you?” Cassius said. “You were willing to go to any lengths to stop an alliance between Carrack and Siqual.”

“If one has a cause,” Sir Keavling informed him, “one must be fully committed to it. One must lay a careful plan, and follow it to the last detail.”

Cassius raised a scornful eyebrow. “You haven’t done so, though, have you? Your attempt to prevent me returning to Carrack failed dismally.”

The other man shook his head. “You wrong me, Your Highness. I had no designs on your life until you declared yourself my enemy. The unfortunate incident with the arrow to your shoulder was an accident. I must thank you for bringing it up—I hoped for the opportunity to clear my name of such clumsiness. The whole situation was regrettable.”

“You placed archers in a tree on my route by accident?” Cassius asked, the man’s falsely benign tone chafing at him.

“Their presence wasn’t an accident,” Sir Keavling assured him. “Merely the unlucky shot that hit you. They were supposed to fire on your party and miss. I was still hoping you’d be more use to my cause alive, you see. All I needed was to show that Siqual wasn’t the only target of attack. From my man’s report, it seems that one of the archers was fool enough to accidentally let an arrow fly while himself being shot down from the tree. The fact that it penetrated your defenses and found a mark is nothing short of extraordinary. If the man weren’t dead, I would hardly know whether to congratulate or censure him. It’s no matter, however. The attack on you was sufficiently offensive to your father to assist in my cause.”

“Your cause is hopeless. Carrack will never bow to any authority from the continent.” Cassius’s every muscle was strained in his anger. “Carrack always has been and always will be part of the Peninsula. And we will resist to the last breath any attempt by the continent to interfere with our autonomy.”

The other man’s smile was unnerving. “We’ll see.” With a flourish, he pulled two folded pieces of parchment from his pocket, followed by a pen. “Now. If you’ll kindly copy out this letter in your own hand onto the blank parchment, I won’t need to waste any more of your time.”

Cassius’s brows drew together as he scanned the neat writing that filled the first page. His breath caught in his throat as he took in its substance—a letter from him to his father, stating that he’d been abducted by Torrenese royal guards masquerading as bandits, and was being treated like a prisoner of war. Apparently he’d been very quick-witted in finding a way to sneak the letter to a sympathetic peasant.

“Absolutely not,” he said flatly, pushing back from the table. “I will never write that.”

“Try to be reasonable,” Sir Keavling said, with the long-suffering voice one might use to an overwhelmed child. “It’s really such a simple task.”

“A simple task that will plunge Carrack into war,” said Cassius. “Never.”

Sir Keavling sighed, then gave a nod to one of the burly men now flanking Cassius’s chair. The next thing Cassius knew, the man had sunk his fist into Cassius’s stomach .

He doubled over in pain, a grunt escaping him as the air was knocked from his lungs.

“I urge you to reconsider.”

Cassius raised his head, glaring at the pseudo-nobleman. “No.”

Another blow, this one from the henchman on the other side. Cassius slumped in the chair, pain radiating from his middle. And behind the pain, something else tugged at his awareness. Some additional layer of agony.

Hot, sick realization dropped into his stomach, infinitely worse than the effects of the blows.

Flora.

Every time he was struck, she was feeling the same pain. But twice as potent.

“Stop!” he cried.

The man ignored him, the next punch landing squarely on his jaw.

On Flora’s jaw.

The same one Cassius had so boldly traced in that meeting room hours before this nightmare began, relishing the softness of her skin against the pad of his thumb. He pictured her face as he’d seen it minutes before in the cellar, pale and drawn, holding the panic back from her eyes only by the sheer force of her will.

And now this pain that slashed across his face had been added to her sufferings, only much worse.

It was unendurable.

“Stop!” he said again. One of the men moved closer, and Cassius spat at him. “Enough!”

“Enough already?” Sir Keavling’s tone was one of polite surprise. “So cooperative.” He held out the pen.

Cassius strained against his bonds, trying to master the rage that filled him as he realized how powerless he was.

“Your Highness?” His captor gave him a meaningful look. “Are you ready to comply?”

“You know I can’t do that,” Cassius growled.

He couldn’t start a war. If he wrote the letter, Sir Keavling would kill him, and make it look like Torrens had assassinated his father’s heir. War would be inevitable. Many would suffer, many would die.

“Not so cooperative, then.”

The words were barely out of Sir Keavling’s mouth when the world spun as the first man kicked Cassius’s chair out from under him, sending it—and him—crashing to the floor. A grunt of pain escaped him as his shoulder and hip bore the brunt of the impact.

Flora’s shoulder. Flora’s hip.

Cassius tried fruitlessly to struggle up before he was incapacitated by a kick to the stomach. The pain that blossomed was nothing to the silent cry of agony that reached him through the tether.

“STOP!”

The word came out as a roar. He barely felt the pain in his body anymore, and was barely aware of the blood that trickled from the corner of his mouth. His mind was completely consumed by Flora. The knowledge that she was alone, bound, and being beaten by an invisible assailant on account of him…the agony of that was impossible to endure. That pain might just kill him.

“It will stop as soon as you write the letter,” Sir Keavling told him.

“There must be something else you want,” Cassius panted, trying to force his frantic mind to think. “Something else, anything else. Please, stop. Just stop.”

There was a moment of silence, then Cassius heard footsteps, and the other man’s face suddenly appeared down at his level.

“ Please? Is the prince of mighty Carrack begging? But where is your pride?” His voice took on a mocking edge. “Isn’t your kingdom the greatest force in the region? Shouldn’t we all bow before you?”

Cassius glared back at him, consumed with hatred for the man. But he said nothing, his chest heaving with his ragged breaths.

“Beg, prince.” Sir Keavling’s voice was soft now, and dripping with malice. “I want to hear you beg for mercy.”

For a moment, Cassius wrestled with himself. Could he bear to demean himself to this vile man? Not so long ago, he would have thought he’d rather die than do it.

But things had changed in that short time. Everything had changed.

It was his pride that had dragged Flora into this nightmare, and he couldn’t let his pride be what killed her.

Sir Keavling drew back, putting his foot against Cassius’s neck. Slowly but inexorably, he pressed down on it, the pressure making Cassius splutter for breath.

“I can’t hear anything,” the other man prompted.

Cassius’s mind latched on to the awareness of the tether, the thin strand in his consciousness that connected him to Flora. He gripped it like a lifeline.

“I beg you,” he forced out.

The words were more bitter than the blood in Cassius’s mouth. Lying on his side on the ground, bound to a chair, with the other man’s foot on his throat, was the most humiliating position he could imagine. And yet, he didn’t regret his words.

Sir Keavling removed his foot from Cassius’s neck. The prince relaxed marginally, only to tense again as the imposter delivered one more swift kick to his midriff.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

Cassius’s muscles strained against the bonds, but he forced himself to keep his head. It wasn’t about him. It was about Flora, alone and trapped and suffering each blow twofold. The thought was more unbearable than any loss of pride.

“I beg you to stop.”

His voice was clear and precise, and Sir Keavling drew back at last. He knelt down, his face a mask of disdain as he took in Cassius’s bruised form.

“You are pathetic. Is this all the strength Carrack has? You called me a snake once—that last blow can be recompense for that. But you are nothing more than a cowardly worm. And your kingdom is no better—a backwards tribe of barbarians, who relegate magical study to the lower classes and surrender their dignity in a vicious scramble of every man for himself. Your pitiful begging won’t save you or your kingdom. We will crush Carrack, and your fool father won’t even know it’s happening until it’s done.”

“Sir.” The sharp voice came from outside the room. Cassius couldn’t see the speaker.

“What is it?” Sir Keavling snapped, clearly not appreciating the interruption to his moment of triumph.

“An urgent express has come for you.”

The imposter stood, irritation clear in his frame. “Bring it here.”

The man brought him a sealed billet, which he broke open and scanned rapidly. He let out a quiet oath, his eyes settling angrily on the two men flanking Cassius.

“You clumsy oafs, you raised suspicion when you grabbed the girl. If it’s necessary for me to return to Crandell before it’s time because of your ineptitude, your lives will be forfeit.”

There was a moment of tense silence as the imposter considered his options and Cassius lay prone on the floor, his head spinning and every inch of his body aching.

Then Sir Keavling folded the parchment with a decisive flourish.

“I need to speak to the scouts.”

He squatted down beside Cassius, his tone still businesslike.

“We’re not finished, Prince.” The last word was an insult. “You will do what I need you to do. I’ve enjoyed watching you break, just as I will enjoy watching your conceited little kingdom be smashed into splinters. But I’m afraid we don’t have unlimited time for pleasantries. Once my current business is complete, we’ll bring the girl up for an interview with my associates.”

Cassius stiffened as Sir Keavling’s eyes flicked to the two men whose fists had left Cassius battered.

“I have a feeling you’ll be more cooperative then.”

Sir Keavling rose with the words, moving toward the door. He jerked his head toward the silently seething prince.

“Throw him back in the cellar. We’ll finish this later.”

Cassius found himself seized and the bonds around his feet slashed free of the chair, although his hands were left bound. The men frogmarched him the short distance to the cellar, then threw him in. He caught the fall as best he could, trying to minimize the pain it would cause him and therefore Flora.

As soon as the door closed above, he scrambled to his feet, his heart hammering as his eyes found her. She was just where he’d left her, and she didn’t appear to be conscious.

Cassius ripped his arms back and forth, determined to break the knot that bound his hands behind his back. They’d tied it hastily, and he’d been knocked about since then, enough to loosen it a little.

To his relief, the rope started to give. Working quickly, he disentangled himself until he was able to pull the bindings away completely.

Dull pain radiated from his whole body thanks to the beating he’d received, but it was the least of his concerns. He sprinted to Flora’s side as soon as he was free, placing his hands on either side of her pale face.

“Flora!”

Her eyes flickered open, recognition lighting them as they fell on his face. Cassius ripped the gag from her mouth, and she drew in a shuddering breath.

“Cassius.”

The whisper broke him all over again. There was a bruise along her jaw, and her breathing was even shallower than before. His own aches told him how much pain she must be feeling, and a silent scream rose inside him, the rage all the more ferocious for its futility.

At least his hands were free now. He withdrew them from her face and circled behind her, assessing the ropes that bound her to the beam. It took several minutes, but he managed to loosen one of the ropes enough to rip open the knot. One of Flora’s arms flopped free, her lack of response to the change alarming. She hadn’t said a word while he worked, and she remained silent as he tugged at the next section of bindings. The task became easier the more of her he freed, and soon enough he was able to yank the final rope from around her midriff. The freedom at last propelled her into motion. She stumbled away from the beam and straight into Cassius’s arms.

He closed them around her, his chest heaving as he held her flush against him. He was too overwhelmed to speak, and he had no words to say to her. How could he ever look her in the eye again?

Cassius wouldn’t have blamed Flora if she’d hated him after what she’d endured on his account, but nothing in her demeanor suggested it. On the contrary, she laid her head on his shoulder, sending his heart sputtering into double time as she buried her face in his neck. She seemed to sink in his arms, her legs quivering as she tried to regain her footing after so long bound upright. Cassius tightened his grip around her waist, his hold strong enough to take her weight, and wordlessly, she gave up the attempt to stand. She was collapsed against him, his arms all that kept her on her feet.

Panic barreled through his mind with deadly force, making it hard to think straight. Sir Keavling had been clear—if he couldn’t find a way for them to escape, they would beat Flora next, probably kill her if Cassius didn’t help them start a war. He wasn’t sure whether the imposter knew the effect the prince’s injuries had on Flora, but it was abundantly clear that Sir Keavling knew that she was Cassius’s vulnerability.

Being free of their bonds was a start, but it wasn’t enough. They were still locked in a cellar, and Cassius had no way of getting them out. Even if he did, they wouldn’t get far with Flora too weak to move.

Cassius wished he was strong enough to be her stability, but slight though she was, his own arms were already shaking. His body was in a state of shock on its own account. He hated his weakness, but he accepted that he couldn’t hold her up forever. Shifting carefully backwards, he found the wall and lowered himself down it, Flora still clasped against him.

She drew in a sharp breath as he repositioned her, and Cassius froze.

“Are you all right?” What a stupid question. Of course she wasn’t. He tried again. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It wasn’t you.” She shook her head. “It’s just…everything hurts.”

The words were spoken almost pleadingly, and Cassius felt again that terrible, powerless rage. He gathered her up on his lap, running one hand over her hair in a mechanical loop. It was a selfish action as much as it was for her sake—he needed to touch her, to hold her close. And he was unsure where else was safe to place a hand.

Flora seemed to appreciate the contact. She curled into his lap, closing her eyes and laying her head against his shoulder again.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered into his ear.

Cassius stiffened. “What?”

“I’m a poor protector.” Her voice was so faint, he could hardly hear it. “I tried to get free, to find some Dust, anything. But I couldn’t do it.”

“Flora, stop.” The words were choked out of Cassius. “Don’t apologize, I can’t bear it. I can’t bear it!”

She stilled in his arms, confused at the passion in his voice.

“It’s all my doing, all of it,” he went on, the words catching in his throat. “My pride did this to you. My arrogant, selfish determination to save face made you vulnerable. I’m the one who—”

He broke off abruptly as Flora reached up, silencing him with gentle fingers on his lips.

“It’s not your fault,” she told him. Her voice was still dropping, but not as though she was too weak to talk. It was more like she was drifting toward sleep, which was probably the best thing for her body. “You didn’t do this to me, Cassius. You’re allowed to have weaknesses. We all do. It’s not your fault when someone evil exploits them.”

Cassius swallowed, silenced as much by the sensation of her fingers on his lips as by the turmoil in his mind.

“I’m just glad you’re in one piece,” she informed him, her head heavier on his shoulder by the second. “Knowing what they were doing to you and being unable to stop it was the worst of it all. But now you’re here…with me. Now it will be all right.”

The words had barely left her mouth when Cassius felt her body relax at last, her breathing now slow and unlabored. She had succumbed to her exhaustion, leaving Cassius alone in the dim cellar, clutching her battered form in his arms and wrestling with the agony of his mind.