Overcome with frustration, Broden growled under his breath. He’d tried everything to gain an opportunity to be left alone with his friends, but over the past few days, even more of the succedunt soldiers attended him at the prison, than previously. They took up positions along the walls, one man standing a mere shoulder’s distance away from the next. There they remained, hour after agonizing hour.
Not for the first time, he wondered why Zarek even bothered to have him there. Perhaps it was just to show him the futility of refusing to swear to serve Daeva. In any case, the only thing he and Carlie managed, was to provide the prisoners with their food. And unfortunately, because of the added guards, they’d not been particularly successful in bringing additional—and actually edible—rations to any of them. Still, Broden hoped that soon, he’d have the chance to speak privately with the twins, Mara, or one of the other Oathtakers.
He glanced up at the scant light coming in from the barred window in Mara’s cell. Dusk was descending; it was time to leave for the day.
He grabbed the buckets of leftover gruel and water sitting nearby, then carried them out to the hallway leading away from the prison. From there, someone would take them to be refilled for the next day.
Marching back to where Carlie stood, just outside the twins’ cell, he said, “It’s time to go, Mouse.”
He turned back around, nodded to the guards at his sides, and then stepped away. Seconds later, he realized something was amiss, as he’d expected Carlie’s footsteps from behind, but didn’t hear them.
Turning back, he found the guards barring her way.
Her fear-filled eyes flashed up at him.
“It’s time to go,” he repeated, taking a step back toward them all.
Two more men approached, flanking Broden. Each grabbed one of his elbows.
“Let’s go,” one of them ordered.
He flung his arms out to release their hold. Then, “Come on, Mouse,” he said, reaching for her.
She tried to step around the guards, but they refused her passage.
Broden watched as another guard lit torches dipped in pitch that lined the walls. He was confused. They’d never done that before.
The flames flickered and popped as the acrid smell of their burning filled the air.
“Let her go,” he demanded, pointing at Carlie.
“Not this time,” the lead guard responded.
Broden’s eyes narrowed. “Is there something I should know?”
“No.”
Carlie held his gaze, her eyes wide.
“Let her go,” he tried again.
“Not now. We need her assistance.”
“For what?”
“Never mind. We’ll return her to you—safe and sound.” He grinned at his cohorts. “In short order,” he added.
“Go, Broden,” she said.
He looked the men over carefully as he addressed them. “Very well then, but don’t forget that she belongs to me. Zarek has ordered that no one else is to touch her.”
He marched up to the leader. When he was close enough to smell the man’s breath, he said, “You’d best return her unharmed.” With that, he turned on his heels and headed out.
A few quiet minutes passed.
Then suddenly, out of nowhere, Lucy and Petrus landed in the midst of the hallway, between the cells, at a spot visible only to the twins and Mara. They watched on as, in a flash, several of the succedunt soldiers descended on them.
One struck Lucy over the head, even as Mara screamed for her to “Watch out!”
An almost inaudible whimper escaped Lucy’s lips as she dropped to the floor.
Carlie struggled for a better view, but guards stood before her, not allowing her to see past them.
At Lucy’s side, Petrus fell to his knees. “Leave her alone!” he cried. “Please! Don’t hurt her!”
One of the guards grabbed his arm. “You’re coming with us,” he ordered, pulling him to his feet.
“Let me go!” He struggled to free himself.
“Now!” The man pulled at him, then dragged him away.
No sooner did they depart, than two other men neared Lucy.
“Check on her,” one of them ordered Carlie.
Shaking, she crouched down at her side and then felt for her pulse. “She lives.”
“Open that one!” he ordered one of his comrades, gesturing toward a cell situated across the hall from the twins and Mara.
The man did as bidden.
“Get her in there,” he said to Carlie.
She dragged Lucy inside. Once done, she left her on the bed of filthy straw on the floor. “Now what?”
“Remove her blade and hand it to me. Hurry!”
Carlie removed Lucy’s blade. She glanced at it, apparently considering whether she should use it. But of course, that would be folly. It’s magic wouldn’t work for her—and even if it could, she’d never be able to take down all the guards.
“Now!”
She handed it over.
“Now remove all the items from around her belt.”
She followed his order.
“Careful. Bring them to me.”
When she reached his side, he snatched the items from her hand.
“Out!” he ordered.
The moment she stepped out of the cell, he closed the door and jammed Lucy’s blade in the lock. “Our work here is done,” he said.
Then the men, with Carlie in their midst, marched out of the prison.
“Lucy. Lucy!” Reigna called. “Lucy, wake up!”
Slowly, she rolled her head from side to side. Then she put her hand on the spot where she’d been struck.
“Great Ehyeh,” she mumbled, trying to sit up before falling back again.
“Are you all right? Lucy!” Eden cried.
She rubbed her head. “What happened?”
Fuming, Broden marched to his quarters. Upon arrival, he found his tutor, along with Yasmin, Farida, Ghazala, and Clementine, waiting for him.
“Where’s Carlie?” Striver asked.
Audibly blowing out his breath, Broden shook his head. “They wouldn’t let her leave with me.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, but something’s up.” He paced, then stopped dead in his tracks. “If they hurt her, I swear—”
“She’ll be all right,” Striver tried to assure him.
“Listen, we need to move forward with our plan as quickly as possible,” Broden said. “I’ve got to get my friends alone—even if only for a minute. They think I’m on Zarek’s side in all of this. I need for them to know the truth!”
“We’re ready with the plan,” Yasmin said.
Broden stood, one hand on his hip. He wiped his other hand over the top of his head. “I wish I could offer you safety.”
“This is more important, Broden.”
“Still, I’d feel better if I knew for certain that the crystals would work for you.” He held Yasmin’s gaze. He was grateful he’d carried some of the miniature weapons when captured from the compound, and even more so, that he’d managed to hold on to them all this time. Even so, there would be no opportunity to test in advance, whether they’d work for her and his other friends.
“If not, we’ll come up with something else,” Striver offered.
“No matter what happens,” Broden said, “if they catch you and take you hostage, I won’t be able to do anything about it.” He choked back a cry.
“We know, Broden,” Yasmin said. “It’s all right.”
“You should use the resulting confusion to make your way to safety,” he suggested.
“There is no safety here in Chiran.”
He growled in frustration. “Fine. Let’s go over the plan again then.”
Striver directed Broden to a table. Before him, he placed a sketch that he’d made of the women’s prison.
“We’ve determined that the place where Zarek is holding your friends is probably right about . . . here.” He tapped on the drawing. “Now, when we get an opportunity, we’ll throw a few of the crystals to cause explosions. From what you told me about these weapons, you should hear the commotion from where you’re stationed.”
“That’s what we discussed, yes,” Broden agreed, nodding.
“How big are the explosions, did you say? How far away do we need to be?”
Broden pointed toward the door. “No closer than from me to there, for sure,” he said.
“So, that’s about . . . six, maybe seven full strides,” Farida said.
“Yes, that sounds about right.” Broden turned back to Striver. “Show me where you’ll throw them.”
The tutor looked his drawing over. “We don’t want to hurt any of the women prisoners unnecessarily, but we’d like to take out as many of the guards as we can and cause as much other damage as possible.” Once again, he tapped on the map. “You see here?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Some weapons arrived today. They’re in a wagon that will stay there until guards arrive the day after tomorrow to unload it. The remainder will be sent to the border.”
“That was fortuitous—that they just arrived, I mean.”
“Yes, and,” Striver grinned, “there’s more in storage right about here.” He pointed at another spot on the map.
“More weapons? Since when?”
“Earlier today, several other loads arrived.”
“Yes,” Yasmin said, “and tomorrow three wagonloads of women who were captured near the Oosian border are due in, as well. The guards will march them past the building right here.” She showed him the place.
“With your help,” Broden said.
“Right. As always, I’m to assist with keeping the women calm and directing them inside until they’re due to depart again.”
“But the guards might see you if you throw a crystal.”
She knelt at his side. “I don’t think so. They are very small, these weapons of yours. When I’m sure the guards’ attention is diverted, I’ll throw one at the door, here,” she said, noting another spot on the map. “We might as well cripple Zarek’s cause as much as possible while we’re at it.”
“The explosions should alert the guards on your side of the prison, to the problem,” Striver commented. “Then you must convince them that they should run to lend aid. Hopefully, they’ll look on it as a sign that you’re on their side.”
“And when the guards leave my side of the prison to help you, I’ll get a chance to talk with my friends,” Broden said.
“That’s right.”
“Are you sure about this?” He looked at each of his friends in turn.
“They’ll never know we caused the trouble,” Striver said. “We’ll make sure of it.”
Broden paced. “Is there any way you can use the distraction to escape? Take Yasmin and the others with you?”
Farida stepped up. “Striver, if the opportunity arises, you should go. But you can’t take everyone. So you must take Clementine first.”
Yasmin and Ghazala nodded their agreement.
“No,” Broden said. “Tomorrow, Clementine goes with Mouse and me. I can’t have her in the middle of all of this.”
“Very well,” Striver agreed.
“All right. One last time then: are you sure about this?” Broden asked.
“We can do it,” Farida said.
Broden sat down and reached for Clementine. When she stood before him, he cupped her elbows. “I’m concerned for you,” he said, looking into her eyes. “I pray nothing goes wrong tomorrow. I just want you to know how terrible I feel—putting you in the middle of all this.”
The girl glanced at the others, then turned back. “It’s all right, Broden,” she said.
He rubbed the back of his neck, then put his hand on the drawing. “Fine then, we’re agreed,” he said. “Now, I won’t need much time, but the more ruckus you cause, the more likely I’ll get my chance to speak to my friends.”
“Tomorrow then?” Striver asked.
“Yes. Tomorrow.”
At that moment came a shuffling sound outside the door.
Striver grabbed his drawing and rushed to the fireplace. He dropped it over the flames just as the door opened.
A guard stood in the threshold. “Broden,” he said, “Zarek awaits you.”
Moaning, Lucy sat up.
“Are you all right?” Mara asked.
“Yes, I’m . . .” She rubbed her head. “Never mind me. How about you? How are you feeling?”
Mara briefly explained how she’d lost Mariella.
“Mariella?”
“Yes, ‘Ella’ for short.”
“Ella! Oh, goodness.”
“What is it?” Dixon asked.
“Oh, Mara, Dixon, Basha was telling me the other day that Felicity had been crying for one she called ‘Ella,’ for the longest time. No one knew who she was talking about.” She swallowed hard. “I am so sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you, Lucy,” they responded in unison.
A quiet minute passed. Then Reigna spoke up. “You took quite a blow to the head.”
Lucy groaned. “I’m going to kill him,” she said.
“Who?”
“Percival.” She seethed. “I don’t know how he managed to get information to Zarek, but clearly, he did.” She stood, unsteadily, then approached the bars of her cell. On sight of Vivacitas, she grabbed her weapon’s handle and pulled.
“You won’t be able to loosen it,” Mara said, “so you can save your breath.”
She tried, nevertheless.
“Why did you come here? I told you not to.”
Still struggling with her blade, Lucy said, “I wanted to help.”
“And now look where we are.”
“Lucy, who was that with you?” Reigna asked.
She let go of Vivacitas. Then, pacing, she said, “That was Petrus.”
“Who?” Dax called out.
“Petrus. You remember. You trained with him. Petrus Feoras. He’s been assisting us in your stead.”
“Ahhh, Lucy . . . I don’t think so.”
“What are you talking about?”
Dax was silent for long seconds. Then he said, “Lucy, tell me again about Petrus’s charge.”
The other Oathtakers and the twins all drew near the bars of their cells, curious as to what he was talking about.
“What’s this all about?” Dixon asked.
“Tell me, Lucy,” Dax said again.
She sighed. “I don’t understand what all the fuss is about. Like I told you, Petrus had a charge. He swore to his safety shortly before I first met him—and that was— Oh goodness, it was decades ago. His charge’s name was ‘Tam.’ He was just a child at the time.”
Again, Dax went quiet for some time. Then finally, he said, “You told me when we were in the city, that you wanted to recruit Petrus. If I recall correctly, you also told me that his charge had only recently died of old age.”
“That’s right.” Lucy huffed. “Honestly, Dax, what is the problem? They’ve taken Petrus away—likely for further questioning. He knows all about our plans and might be forced to give the information over. You know, Percival knew that Petrus would be with me. He must have informed Zarek of that fact!”
She paced. Then, she said, “Presumably, Percival also told him about our various powers. They must have concluded that Petrus would pose little risk to Zarek. That’s why they captured him. Oh, great Ehyeh,” she moaned, “what if they torture him for information? His attendant power that allows for him to withstand significant pain could prove helpful, but even it won’t last forever. What if they hurt him?”
“I don’t think that’s our primary problem,” Dax said.
Lucy stomped on a skittering roach. “What are you talking about?”
The sounds of Dax’s pacing filled the air. Then, “Lucy,” he said, “if it’s true that Tam died only recently, then why is Petrus an old man?”
She pulled back. “An old man! An old man? He’s as youthful as I am!”
“No, he is not.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that if his charge died only recently, that he should, as you say, appear as young as you. But the man who was here, did not.”
“I thought he looked young,” Mara said.
“Trust me,” Dax said, “he must be using some sort of glamour or something. Whatever magic it is, it worked on you all, but not on me. I saw through it.”
“But what could that mean?”
“Dax, I’m sure you’re mistaken,” Lucy interrupted. “There wasn’t much light in here. You just didn’t see clearly.”
“I saw clearly, Lucy. That man was old. As I think on it, I agree that it was Petrus—but an old Petrus. He must have lied to you about his charge. And Lucy—if he lied to you about that, what else do you suppose he might have lied to you about?”