She just shook her head, leaning over and handing me the bath sheet.
“I’m finished.”
Her expression twisted in something that might’ve been grief, and then she was walking out the door.
I did nothing to stop her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I’d known Prisca was up to something. And yet when she knocked on my door, a part of me was convinced she was here to finish what she’d started yesterday.
One look at her, and it was evident that was not going to happen. Her face was bone-white, and she seemed oddly fragile.
“I need to talk to you.”
I opened the door wider, and she walked in. It had been a terrible day, and I’d spent most of it at Sabium’s side. My head pounded with a rare headache. And yet, the moment the wildcat walked in, my cock hardened in anticipation.
I scowled, and Prisca raised one eyebrow. “What is your problem?”
Sometimes I longed to be able to talk to her about my life. “My problems are my own.”
Her expression turned cool. “Perhaps that needs to change.”
I waved my hand in the way I knew she loathed, gesturing for her to talk.
She glowered at me but took a deep breath. “You need something in this castle, and I could use some help. I think we should work together.”
“You want me to help get your friend out.”
She studied me as if wondering if I could be trusted. I ground my teeth. This woman.
But you can’t be trusted.
I pushed that thought away and focused on Prisca as she began to pace. She had dark circles beneath her eyes. I considered everything I knew about her, and my blood turned to ice.
“You’re planning to get them all out. Are you mad?”
She sighed. “I have a plan.”
I watched her, and she shrugged. “Fine. I have the beginnings of a plan.”
Of course. Prisca wouldn’t be content breaking one prisoner out of the king’s dungeon—a feat that had never been done before. No, she somehow imagined she could get them all out. And with that power of hers, she likely could. But there was no way she could transport them all out of the city.
And yet…
Even if she couldn’t get them out, the chaos that would ensue when the king learned his prisoners were missing? It would be the perfect distraction for my own plans. Perhaps fate would step in and both of us could get what we needed. Hope was almost a foreign sensation at this point in my life, but I felt the dull edge of it.
“How many prisoners are down there?”
“Three hundred and nine.”
I winced. Prisca stuck out her chin. Stubborn as a mule.
“Are you sure all of them are—”
“Hybrids? Yes. Thieves and murderers are taken to the city jail. I learned something else today too. Those oceartus stones? They’re here for a reason. The king doesn’t just burn the hybrids. He drains them first.”
It made sense.
She put her hands on her hips. “So, if you’re hoping to weaken the king…”
I smiled. “Is that what I’m doing?”
She looked down her pert little nose at me, and I couldn’t help but smile. Surprise flashed across her face, but she recovered quickly. “The king will be even more powerful after Gods Day. Something tells me you would prefer for that not to happen.”
It was a situation I’d known we would potentially have to deal with. A sudden influx of magic for a king who was already rivaling the fae for power. And I would, indeed, prefer that he didn’t receive that power.
Prisca gave me that knowing smile that made me want to strangle her. Or kiss her. Or both.
I lost myself in a fantasy of my hand circling her throat while I thrust inside her, making it clear that I was still in charge.
“Lorian?”
A blush tinged her cheekbones. She’d guessed where my mind had gone. This distraction had to stop.
“When I took my healer to your friend, we used a tunnel. It has existed for years, and thanks to the fae iron the guards shove down the prisoner’s throats, even if they could somehow get out of their cells and locate the hidden entrance, they’d be too weak to get all the way to the end of the tunnel.”
Surprise and victory gleamed in her eyes. “I know about the tunnel. I’ve been searching the dungeon for that entrance. Will you tell me where it is?”
“Yes.”
I could see her mind processing that information instantly as she readjusted whatever plans she’d been making. Fascinating creature.
“Where does the tunnel end?”
“The central market. Decades ago, the market didn’t exist. It was solely an execution square. The tunnel allowed the guards to take prisoners out directly to their death.” On Gods Day, the streets would run red with blood. Even someone like me—who cared little for the agony of others—could feel the waste of it.