I started crying fresh tears.
Hadriel reached through the bars and wiped them away. “Where’s that rat Jeddick? Or whatever his name was.”
“He’s playing pet. They keep him in his own rooms, plural. He’s passed from one person to the next.”
Hadriel’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And that keeps him out of the dungeon? Gives him a bit of freedom?”
“Don’t go that route, Hadriel,” I said, worried. “It isn’t any way to live.”
He frowned at me. “Love, I beg your pardon, but which of us has been trapped in a nightmare sex castle these last sixteen years, you or me? I am well versed on what is, and is not, living.”
“Turn around,” the first officer barked. “No pleasure shot for you.”
Hadriel spat out laughter and then wiped it off my face. “Sorry. Fucking Leala, she’s my hero. Anyway, freedom is what we’re after, right? I will shame-fuck my way through this whole castle, I do not give two shits. Gay, straight? Don’t care. I’ll be whoever they want me to be so that I can get us what we need. My brain is already stocked with nightmares—what’s a few more? Cheers!”
He raised his hand, glanced around, and then scowled at Micah looking down the way at us.
“Fuck, that dragon is big,” Hadriel murmured. “He’d give the master a run for his money. Also, I’ve overused the word ‘fuck’ on this trip. It’s a problem. I need something new. Anyway—”
The whip struck out, slicing into Hannon. He staggered back a few places before bending slightly, catching his breath. In a moment, he straightened back up with obvious effort and stepped forward again.
“Yes,” the first officer said, his eyes shining. My heart fell. “Yes, he can stay. Find him a cell. The others—put them upstairs.”
“Okay, love. Gotta go.” Hadriel paused and then dug in the side of his shoe. “Almost forgot. This might’ve gotten a little wet, but it should still be readable. He had to be careful what was said in case I got searched, but…well…”
He handed me a folded bit of dirty, crinkled paper. Through a wet spot, I could see familiar scrawl.
My heart started to race. Nyfain had written me a letter.
I quickly grabbed and stashed it, fresh tears in my eyes.
Hadriel patted my hand and then put his palm to my cheek. “I got this, okay? I hear we get used for party favors or some such shit. I can party-favor like no one can party-favor. People tell me things. And they tell Leala things. Don’t underestimate her—she travels in weird circles where people are more likely to let down their guards.” He winked and pushed to standing. “Thank the goddess for her bountiful gifts,” he said loudly, turning. “Get me out of this hall of dragons.”
“I thought you’d be dead by now, Hadriel,” Lucille said with a sort of swagger I’d never seen in her before. Then again, I’d only known her here. “Nice outfit.”
“I thought you were dead, Lucille. It was nice and quiet in the castle without you playing dirty tricks on me.” He spread his arms and bowed. “I am glad you are in that cage. Nice dental work, by the way. It really suits you.”
“We won’t be behind these bars forever, Hadriel.” Xavier leaned his pointy chin out through the bars. “Watch yourself.”
“Yes, Xavier, because while I’m a prisoner in the demon castle, your slow wit is going to be my greatest concern.” Hadriel passed one of the officers, walked halfway up the stairs without an escort, and gave them all a gesture they clearly knew. “Adieu, fuckers.”
“Bye, milady,” Leala whispered to me before jogging after him.
One of the officers escorted Hannon to an empty cell somewhat near me on the left side of the chamber. He removed the cuffs and clanged the door shut before following the others up the stairs. They left the lights on, incredibly blasé about the new prisoners. Or maybe that was how they usually acted with the wolves and faeries.
I stared through the bars at my brother, who sat down with crossed legs and looked around for a moment before his gaze settled on me.
“Oh, Strange Lady,” Vemar called in his singsong voice, sticking his hand through the bars. “I have a few questions…”
“Was that really Hadriel?” Tamara asked, looking my way with wide, excited eyes. “I used to pick on that guy mercilessly. I couldn’t help myself—he always pushed the wrong buttons, but not hard enough to warrant a fight. Just hard enough for me to—”