“I wasn’t going to be allowed near him anyway. He’s a prize, that one is. Real slick. I’ll be in a cage, watching him on the arm of his new master.”
“You’re all going to rot down here,” Jedrek said in a low tone as the cuffs snapped around his wrists.
Leather creaked, and I turned my head the other way to see Govam’s boots creasing. His knees and hands came into view as he crouched down to be closer to me.
“I’ve heard that you barely speak or cry out when they whip you,” he said. “You also don’t swear at them when they come to get you. You don’t berate them when they transport you… You take the pain stoically and let them put you back in your cell.”
“Most of that is true, but as my blessed betrothed accused me of earlier, I do take the occasional shot at them. It breaks up the monotony.”
“Your golden prince is helping you.”
“What did he say?” someone asked.
“Shh,” Vemar replied. “I’m trying to listen.”
Govam lowered his voice further. “Maybe if he stopped helping you, the officers wouldn’t call you up as much. They wouldn’t go at you so hard. They’re getting too much power from you to stop.”
I didn’t know how to tell Nyfain to stop, and I wasn’t sure I had it in me to try. I relished our connection. I craved it.
Besides, I was working on the guards’ muscle memory. Going up placidly and coming back placidly ensured they got into a rhythm. They pulled me out of the cell a certain way, clicked on the cuffs, walked me up, took off my sword—it was all becoming a routine. When I was ready, I’d crash that routine to pieces, and the shock of it would give me an opening.
Fighting and struggling didn’t do anyone any good anyway. The other dragons did it, and they still came back all slashed up. What was the point?
A knee touched the ground, followed by a gloved hand, Govam getting lower so I could see him. His gaze settled on mine.
“You asked me some questions when we were bringing you in here, and I never answered,” he said quietly. “I will now, while we have a moment.” He paused as Jedrek was ordered to exit the cell. “I knew you were thinking about killing me because I know dragons. I’ve learned to read their subtleties. I’ve learned to understand what each small movement means. That’s why I’m the only captain who hasn’t been killed in this job.”
“Yet.”
“Correct. Yet.” He paused. “It’s clear that you barely know you’re a dragon. You don’t act like the rest of them, as I said. You’ve never shifted, and yet you are going to be the most dangerous of them all. I can see it in you. I can see the danger lurking. See it, not smell it. This doesn’t have to do with the golden prince. You’re trouble, Finley.”
“That must be why they whip me with such gusto.”
“I hear you exude more power than any shifter who’s ever been in this dungeon. Only one of the faeries gives them the same dose, and that is when her sister is beside her.”
So there was a powerful faerie in the dungeons. Interesting to know. I wondered if the demons were suppressing her power. Most likely. I figured it was how Dolion kept everyone in line. What handy magic for a sleazeball to have.
“The officers here love power above all else,” Govam continued, his words barely above a whisper. “They’re relentless. And they can be. They supply party favors and his highness’s twisted creatures, but otherwise they're left alone. What happens down here remains here, for the most part, unless they need help in some way. They are not checked on by the rest of the castle.”
I blinked a few times, letting that sink in. I lifted my head as much as I could, trying to study him a little more closely.
They weren’t checked on? Meaning that if I timed my rebellion and escape just right, no one would be the wiser until Dolion wanted his party favors?
Why the fuck would the captain of the guard tell me this? Me, the dragon he thought was more dangerous than the others.
I narrowed my eyes.
“Don’t go anywhere,” I said as I dragged my arms up and braced my hands beside my shoulders. “I need to get up.” I sucked in a breath. “This is going to suck.”
Pain vibrated through me as I pushed my upper body off the ground. The skin on my back stretched, ripping at the fresh slashes and pulling open any scabs that had formed. I pushed back and then worked my knees under me, my legs aching, before trying to twist and plop onto my butt.