Was the face I knew even the real Lorian?
“Setella?”
I jolted. “Sorry. Just thinking.” It didn’t matter. It couldn’t. What was important was that I could see through whatever magic Lorian had used. If I hadn’t been able to, he would’ve known who I was the minute he’d stepped into this castle, and I wouldn’t have known who he was.
I shuddered at the thought.
“We’re going to take a walk on the grounds.” Alcandre said. “Enjoy your time at the market.”
“Thank you.”
Tibris walked past, carrying a crate of wine. I caught his eye and he jerked his head, gesturing for me to follow him. He’d been busier than ever, healing the prisoners at night and working long hours during the day to ensure the king’s visitors had their favorite wines. The dark circles beneath his eyes seemed to be permanent.
I froze time long enough for us to have a whispered conversation next to the cellar. His face drained of color. “The bastard filled it in? What are we going to do, Pris?”
“I’m going to go talk to Vicer now.”
“He’s going to say it’s too dangerous.”
“I know.” We were both silent for a long, miserable moment. “I have another plan. I’ll slip you a note once it starts falling in place.”
Tibris nodded. “I’ll do some thinking too. This isn’t it, Pris. We’re not leaving them there.”
I knew what he was thinking. Had we ensured the hybrids were more alert, stronger, healthier, all so they would understand what was happening to them when they walked to their death in a few days?
“No. We’re not.”
I walked to Vicer’s, keeping a lookout for anyone following me—which involved doing several loops past the house, ducking down alleyways, and hiding in door stoops.
Finally, when I was certain I was alone, I knocked, blinking as Vicer immediately opened the door, reached for my arm, and pulled me straight inside.
“Hello to you too.”
He was obviously in a dark mood. Well, I was about to make it darker.
Following him upstairs to the common room—which was surprisingly empty—I took a deep breath.
“The tunnel has been filled in.”
He looked into the distance, and I could practically see him calculating our chances.
Those calculations obviously weren’t good, because he began cursing in at least six different languages, his face growing flushed, hands fisted. Finally, Margie came up from the kitchen and told him to calm down.
I’d told him the same, but he’d ignored me. When Margie gave him that stern look, he listened.
I’d never seen that kind of reaction from Vicer before. But we were all on edge.
“We can still do this,” I insisted, ignoring the way he immediately shook his head. “Margie, are you coming with us?”
She hesitated. “I have a place here in the city.”
“The prisoners will need you.”
They were traumatized, half starved. But more importantly, I thought Margie needed them.
Grief flickered in her eyes, and I knew she was wishing her daughter was one of those prisoners. That Rosin been arrested just a few days later and missed the last Gods Day burning. She would have spent a year in the king’s dungeon, but she’d still be alive.
“I’ll think about it.”
Thankfully, Vicer had arranged for Chava to meet me at his headquarters. She was as quiet as usual, but she took care of the lighter hair that had begun to grow in at my roots.
By the time Chava was finished, more of the rebels had gathered in the common room—all with various thoughts on the worthiness of our plan. Many of them would be helping Vicer to move the prisoners once they were finally outside the city walls—if we managed to get them out. So, I listened, even when most of them told me the hybrids were going to die. When I began pacing, Margie pulled me aside.
“Let me ask you one thing,” she murmured with a faint smile. “If Vicer decided it was too dangerous to get the hybrids out, what would you do?”
“I’d ignore him and try anyway.”
She smiled at me. “Then his thoughts on the matter are irrelevant.”
I raised one eyebrow at her, and she waved a hand. “I love Vicer like he is my own son. But this many rebels means many, many opinions. And you can’t afford to feel any doubt if you’re going to succeed.”
I’d had enough of my own doubts. And they were crippling me. Margie was right. If I was going to do this, I had to believe I could get the prisoners out.