Chapter 6

KING CALAIS TOWERED over Evangeline, his golden wings tucked tight against his sides, feathers dripping to the floor. He leaned down and graced her with his usual sneer, his white, braided hair falling over his shoulder and cascading down his black shirt and practical trousers. An outfit she would find on Ceven, but never the king.

“What an unpleasant surprise.” His eyes, like cold steel, pegged her to the spot.

I’m going to die.

He snatched her arm before flinging open the metal door and dragging her into the room. The two Nytes bowed, their brows rising when their gazes met Evangeline’s. Lani lay crumpled and defeated on the floor. She didn’t lift her head.

“Leave.” King Calais flicked his hand, and the two left, dragging Lani behind them.

Evangeline jerked out of the king’s hold, reaching for her friend, but Calais shoved her back. She snarled at him, fury burning hotter and stronger than the logic warring insider her brain. The king retaliated with a swift blow. Pain erupted in her cheek, and she stumbled into the wall. Her fury dissipated, replaced with a shot of fear.

“It seems Ryker hadn’t trained you at all. Such disrespect.” He surveyed her from head to toe, but it wasn’t full of disgust, like his usual assessment of her. It was as if he were searching for something. “My, my, what an outfit.” He inspected the caked blood on her face and clothes. His nose wrinkled, and she knew she reeked. “Certainly not something befitting your station. Or maybe it is. A sneaky, dirty spy.” He snapped his fingers, and she flinched. “Tell me, why did Ryker send you of all people to spy on our little operation?”

Evangeline gaped at him. She’d been wondering all the different ways the king was going to kill her for murdering Ryker Ardonis. She’d imagined being hanged, burned alive, or having her head removed from her shoulders. And here he was, suspecting her of spying for a dead man. Did he not know? If he didn’t, he would soon enough.

He raised a brow. “Or maybe he did it in hopes I would find you. And dispose of you myself.”

She swallowed.

He laughed, and the feathers of his wings shook, the bright light overhead shimmering off the golden pieces. “Such a model display of terror.” His lips thinned. “What little trinkets did he give you? Any defenseless human wouldn’t have lasted a second in this place.”

Trinkets? Avana had mentioned magicked jewelry that some Nytes wore to protect themselves against Caster spells. Maybe they also used some for offensive measures, like Raiythlen’s daggers.

I can’t let him take away my dagger. It’s my only chance of getting out of this mess. “Another accompanied me,” she said. It wasn’t a lie. “But I don’t know what happened to him. I don’t think he made it.”

His eyes grazed her dagger, and she resisted the urge to shield it with her arm. Please, let the king still be the arrogant tyrant he’s always been. If he took away her dagger, that would be him admitting she and her small knife cowed him, and his pride wouldn’t allow that. Right?

“Describe him.”

“B-black hair, about two heads shorter than you, with blue eyes,” she stammered. Her fear had choked the truth out of her before she could think. To redeem herself, she fibbed, “He was a Rathan with gray ears and a white tail.”

He didn’t question her any further on that matter but asked about a new dilemma. “My advisor was supposed to meet me here tonight, so tell me, human. Why has he sent you instead? Surely that is why your pathetic self is here and not him.”

It’s because your precious right-hand man is dead. Killed by me. She inhaled through her nostrils. I can do this. I can say a believable lie to the King of Peredia. I can survive this.

Could she?

“He said he was meeting someone tonight,” she started, keeping her tone level. Maybe she could throw him off her trail. Cast their eyes on other suspects. “He wouldn’t tell me who.” And knowing Ryker, he wouldn’t have. He never answered her truthfully on anything—even when it came to her own past and the mysterious marking branding the top of her hand.

The king clenched his fists, and it was enough to stir acid in the pit of her bowels.

“Why am I not surprised he’s with him again? Makes me think he’s no longer loyal to his crown but another, regardless of how valuable he has been to our cause.”

Evangeline kept her face placid, but her mind was working through the sludge of fear, calculating his words. Ryker had been working with someone else? Was it the same person behind the Shadow Doors and the Wretched in the west wing?

She was tempted to ask when the door creaked open and the same guard whose claws had been digging into Lani’s shoulder poked his head in. “Another tribute is here.”

The king’s smile was wicked. Gray irises flicked to her, his lips twisting, as if debating whether to kill a roach that had entered his quarters. “Take this one to a cell. If Ryker so desires, he can pick her up himself.” Evangeline blanched but didn’t protest or move when the Rathan came in, seizing her forearm. “And I want you to track down a spy.” He repeated her fake description of Raiythlen, and she hoped it was enough to not put him in any real danger. If he was still alive.

The guard nodded and pulled her out of the room. I can walk by myself, she wanted to spit at him, but she kept her chin down. As the door shut, the king pulled a necklace out of his pant sleeve, his thumb caressing the silver locket. She thought she heard him whisper, “Soon, my love,” but then the door slammed shut.

To Evangeline’s dismay, the Rathan had a friend, one guard from earlier, leaning against an empty cell. The pink-and-red-winged Aerian didn’t bother looking at her or addressing her as the Rathan yanked her along. Being human was like being invisible. No, it was worse. She was vermin to them. Like rats in cages.

Her arm hurt where the Rathan’s fingers bit into her skin. He laughed at something the Aerian said as they passed withering, dying humans in cages next to them. Her brain spun, thinking of ways to weasel out of this situation.

She still had her lucky dagger. Like the king, the guards thought themselves powerful enough not to be fazed by one measly human with a blade the size of her hand. And they were right. But this time she had Caster magic on her side and the element of surprise. They wouldn’t be expecting an attack from someone like her—they hadn’t even glanced her way. Their own arrogance would be their downfall.

Someone moaned when they passed another cell. A husk of a human withering away in the corner. Their footsteps were the only thing breaking up the cries of pain.

There were two of them. She’d only have the element of surprise for one, and she may be too slow to land a hit on the other. And what if the dagger didn’t hit its mark? How many lucky swings did she have left?

They stopped in front of an empty cell. A white static clouded her thoughts.

“Move, human.” The Rathan shoved her forward, and his friend hovered close to the cell.

Now!

Evangeline used her own momentum and pressed her palms squarely on the Aerian’s chest. He stumbled back as she unsheathed her dagger, chucking it at the Rathan behind her. She just needed one lucky hit.

Before the pink-and-red-winged Aerian could push to his feet, Evangeline slammed the cell door shut on him at the same time the Rathan behind her yelled in agony. She twisted on her heel and sprinted. But not fast enough. The guard—now with a dagger sticking out of his chest—grabbed her. Like Barto and Ceven had taught her, Evangeline brought up her knee, knocking away his hand before she pounded the hilt of the blade deeper into his chest. The Rathan pulsated in pain, his claws lashing at her face as he collapsed to the floor. The Aerian guard shouted at her, but she couldn’t hear over the white static in her head.

She needed to get out of there, fast.

Blood trickled down her cheek, the air burning the claw marks on her face as her boots stamped into the ground. She didn’t know where she was going, but she didn’t care; she just needed as much distance as possible.

Smaller hallways branched off, and she turned, hoping it wouldn’t be a dead end. She was weaponless, with no definite way to escape, and Raiythlen was surely dead or incapacitated. Gods, she was so screwed.

The hallways were narrow, the rock on the sides less refined. Her fear of a dead end didn’t happen, but the hallway stretched on, branching out again.

I’m going to get nowhere at this rate!

She didn’t have time to waste; she had to think. Where would Lani be?

The cells in the large room were a possibility, but there had to be a way around, maybe a path up to another level? One where she could have a better perspective of the room and avoid the calamity she had caused with the guards.

She went with her instinct, taking a left on what she thought would lead to the opposite end of the cavernous room. Luck had to be on her side when she stumbled on a staircase. This time brick and tile made up each step, with a mosaic inlay. As if this wasn’t recently added on, but an original piece of the west wing, mayhap even older, since she had seen nothing like it throughout the rest of the castle.

Her padded feet climbed the stairway, but instead of opening up into the cavernous room, it spiraled up another level. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy, but she couldn’t turn back now. She just had to hope there was something useful up these stairs. Maybe it was a way out of the west wing for her and Lani to use. Or a room conveniently full of weapons.

She snorted.

Her hand grazed the wall, the steps winding, and winding, and winding . . . A familiar ache formed, and her head felt heavy. No . . .

Evangeline snapped her eyes shut and pinched herself, but the pull on her mind was too strong. She knew what was going to happen but couldn’t stop it as she fell over and sank into the darkness.