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Until Hurrok described how he’d tried to assassinate me in my bedroom. Just like that man when I was little. And how many others had there been? How many times had Jan saved my life and not told me?
I was on the floor, shaking. My whole body trembled against the memory and I knew I was making a scene, but I couldn’t stop imagining person after person sneaking into my bedroom, wanting to kill me. Jan always acted like he wasn’t really necessary, but secretly . . .
Maybe Mother had f*******n him from saying anything. That was something she would do, but why had Jan obeyed? He was supposed to be my friend, the person I trusted above all others, and surely I deserved the truth.
“Are you all right?” Gerel snapped her fingers at me. “Get up.”
Still trembling, I forced myself to my feet. “I’m fine. I just hadn’t realized—”
“What?” She scowled like I was a worm in her salad. “Didn’t you realize what kind of monsters you’re trapped in here with?”
“We’re all monsters,” added the screaming man. “Every one of us.”
I closed my eyes and took three steps back from the door. My heel bumped the sewage hole lid. “I’d like to go to bed now.”
“Someone is testy tonight,” Gerel muttered.
“Someone gets that way when other people casually talk about trying to commit murder.” A strange venom laced my tone.
Gerel stared at me.
The screaming man was quiet.
Chenda watched me from her cell.
And Aaru? Who could tell with him. As always, he was the very absence of sound.
Then, footfalls stormed into the cellblock. Three guards. Maybe four. Noorestones flared bright, blinding, making me squint. Through the cacophony of boots pounding on the stone, a voice rose above the others.
“Galadriel!” Yarrow’s voice. “It’s time to answer more questions.”
Cold terror touched my heart, and I couldn’t forget the truth: no matter how terrible the prisoners were, the guards were worse.
Yarrow HAD QUESTIONS.
More questions.
Hope died inside me as he halted at my cell, twisted his key in the lock, and threw open the door. “Let’s go.”
Two more guards flanked him, both in leather uniforms with chevrons pinned around Kyhan’s crossed maces. And there was the claw, too, which had mystified me before, but now I knew it must be the insignia for Drakon Warriors.
Did all the Drakon Warriors know about me, then? And Yarrow was tasked—or had tasked himself—with squeezing any information out of me?
So quickly that my head spun, Yarrow yanked me from my cell and practically flung me into the hall. I tried to root myself to the floor while he shut my door and prodded me forward.
The other two guards didn’t speak, or even touch me. If they were worried about the possibility of me running, they didn’t show it.
Yarrow had probably told them I wasn’t brave enough for that.
After four steps, Yarrow motioned for me to halt. I obeyed, too afraid to do anything but.
At once, I realized that I stood even with Aaru’s door, and I risked a look inside, expecting him to be sitting on the bed with his knees up, or hidden beneath the bed. But everything was different today.
Even Aaru.
He stood at his door, regarding me with fearful curiosity.
I shouldn’t have been able to read his expression, not when I’d never really seen him before. Only in dim pieces through the hole.
But now he was an arm’s length away, his stubble-covered face obscured only by the grille of metal. His skin was dark—a few shades browner than mine—and he was almost a head taller, with a lanky build made gaunt by a month of constant hunger. A mess of too-long hair framed nighttime-black eyes. He was . . . not handsome. Not beautiful. But compelling, even under the grime and starvation. I wanted to look more.
Suddenly, I realized he was studying me in the same way: noting my half-unraveled twists, my trembling hands, my face, which had been pretty three decans ago but now must be changed by my time in the Pit.
“I’m sorry,” I mouthed. For this moment. For staring. For being less beautiful than I’d wanted him to see. For being the one who was taken from her cell and . . . I didn’t know what I was apologizing for.
But then Yarrow flung open Aaru’s door and took him by the arm. “You too.”
Aaru’s black eyes widened as he staggered forward. Questions rushed between us, but there was no time to give them voice. Yarrow and the other two dragged us from the cellblock, through the anteroom, and down the hallway. Numbers flitted through my head as we moved—steps, stairs, intersections.
My mind cataloged the heavy footfalls of the three warriors, and the lighter stride of Aaru. I wanted to look over my shoulder at him. He was there. I could feel him. But I didn’t know why he was here, and that was what scared me.
::What’s happening?:: His quiet code was quick, but not quick enough that it wasn’t noticed. A guard shoved him, and he stumbled. One, two, three: his bare feet slapped the ground before he caught himself.
I didn’t dare answer his question. Even if I knew the answer, Yarrow was too observant. He’d notice the tapped exchange and have questions.
Then we stopped in front of a door and Yarrow’s grip on my arm grew tighter. “Here’s your chance. You can tell me what I want to know—right now—or we can go inside.”
When I turned to Yarrow, my voice trembled. “What do you want to know?”
“Your secret, of course.” He smirked. “Your second secret.”
The chill that ran through my body felt like ripples from a punch.
He rested a hand on the doorknob. “I told you I would come back for it. Did you think I’d forgotten?”
- Writer
