“I know. As I said, he told me.”
“He’ll give them time to wring the last shreds of power from you, and then he will throw you at the golden prince’s feet and kill you for good. The officers are only kind to those deemed useful. They can also be cruel.”
“Whipping us is their version of kind?”
“You were deemed useful, so they were not actively trying to break you. Sometime soon, the demon king will want you broken. He will do it to hurt the golden prince—and you.”
He slowly led me down the last flight of stairs, Denski and the other guards lingering behind.
“Soon, you will lose all traces of yourself, and when you die, that prince will die with you. At least the parts of him that matter.”
His tone was so matter-of-fact. He didn’t sound like he was warning me, or deriving any pleasure from our conversation. He was just giving me the current state of affairs.
“Why are you telling me this?”
He didn’t answer, just sped up again and walked me through the rows of cells, all of them empty except for Hannon’s and mine. Jedrek lay curled up in the corner, his clothes torn and stained with blood. They’d clearly beaten him for the part they thought he’d played in the most recent party.
Fear choked me as Govam shoved me into the cell and I backed up to get my cuffs removed.
Soon they would realize it wasn’t Jedrek who’d made things so spicy. They would put together that everything had changed after the arrival of the two new additions from Nyfain’s castle.
Hadriel and Leala were in danger. So was Hannon, given he was my brother and could be used to torment me. I was in danger. Jedrek, too, though it was a little harder to care about that.
We had to get out of here. Now.
I just hoped to hell the boost of power I’d given Calia would be enough for her to get moving. Otherwise we’d just have to force our way out through the officers and make sure we crossed the waters before the rest of the castle found out about it.
Later that night—or maybe it was early morning—I sat against the back wall and contemplated all I’d learned.
I’d read the note Leala pressed into my hand.
It had been written in all caps, the letters slightly slanted, which made it easy to read. Weston had been collecting information like a hoarder collected trinkets. He had boat schedules （there were none）， guard rotation schedules （quite the clusterfuck in organization, that）， information about where the officers slept and how many of them there were at any given time, plus knowledge of the magic that protected them. He’d drawn a map of the castle, and while there were several blank spaces, he had good intel on exit routes. He even knew where Dolion slept. He also knew there was no way to get to Dolion. Not for us. We’d never reach him through all the corridors and guards and staff.
Fine. We didn’t need to reach him. We just needed to get out. Revenge could come later.
I pored over the information, connecting the dots, fueled by my sudden panic to get the fuck out of here. I was devising two plans—one that hinged on Calia picking the magical lock, and one that would have to work without her. I just wished I could somehow reach Hadriel and talk them over. He was very good at plan making, at looking at all the pieces and fitting them together.
“You okay?” Hannon asked, sitting up like I was.
“Yeah. You?”
“Shut up, I’m trying to sleep,” Jedrek groused before turning over and curling up a little tighter.
He’d screamed at me just before everyone got back a few hours ago, too sore to do much more than turn over and yell, but doing that with all the gusto he could manage. It was the same old song and dance. He blamed me for everything, including the strange “weeds” now growing in the cell.
I hadn’t meant to lose my cool and punch him, but…well, you could talk shit to me, but you didn’t do it about the everlass. That was crossing the line.
He did mention something of note—he’d been told by Dolion that he’d get to marry me and sleep with me （if he could work his dick） before I was taken back to his kingdom to be killed. In other words, Dolion really intended to drive that last nail into Nyfain’s coffin.
Or so he thought. I would be long fucking gone before any nuptials took place, one way or another.
“That…concoction helped,” Hannon said quietly. “A lot.”
A scuffing of feet sounded from the steps.
“Shh,” I heard, followed by a murmur.
Hannon scrunched up his brow. He’d heard it too.