This was idiotic.
It wasn’t a feeling that she was familiar with. Normally, her plans were perfectly put together. Calculated. It was what she had been trained to do at the assassins school. It had been drilled into her. But at the same time, it had always been the female that she was. The reason she had succeeded at the school was because she had already been a weapon before she went.
Valia had been the delicate one. The one they’d had to reshape into a spy, a killer. Isa had lacked the sensibilities they needed to shape. She’d already killed someone before she ever set foot on their doorstep. A shock to her tutors. A delight to the headmistress. A girl without morals was a girl who stayed alive.
Hadn’t that proven true?
Isa was still here. Valia was gone.
Too soft.
Too delicate.
Too vulnerable.
Isa had had one vulnerability, and now, she had none. Her father had killed the only person she’d ever cared about. Now, she would kill him. Not that it would be easy with the Ring of Endings on his finger or the precautions he had put in place, but she was the only one who could get close enough.
She’d given him a throne. She deserved something in return.
But not tonight.
If killing her father was the answer, it would take a lot more planning. And would he find out about her bargain with the little addict girl before it came to that? She shuddered at the thought. He’d given her one job—find Kerrigan Argon and eliminate her. He wouldn’t suspect anything if she found and interrogated her friends. And she had excuses at hand for why they weren’t already dead.
Even an excuse ready for what she was doing tonight.
Being an idiot.
The first guard was already snoring when she crept past him on soundless feet. She’d slipped a particularly potent brew into his mug hours earlier. He’d have no recollection of what happened tonight. He’d never seen her … not that he’d remember that either. She’d had to dive deep for something rudimentary. Something that wouldn’t point to the assassins school. Make it look like amateur work. She only had one shot at this after all. She didn’t want to die before finishing her task.
The second and third guards were crashed out around a game of Dragon Scales. She pocketed their cash. A robbery and a jail break were maybe too much, but most people were starving. They wouldn’t leave the money just sitting there.
She slunk down the stairs, fingering the small object in her pocket for reassurance. So much depended on the little orb, and she didn’t like that there was only one exit out of here. Failure wasn’t an option.
The guard on the final floor of the underground prison was the toughest. He didn’t gamble, and he didn’t drink. He took his duties too seriously. She would have liked to do it on another night when he wasn’t here, but she didn’t have the time.
She had no qualms about killing him. In fact, killing him would have been far easier. But how many people could get inside the Draco Mountain prison, past all the guards, and earn a perfect mark against their highest-rated guard? Not many.
She sighed as she pulled out a small pouch of powder. Then, she stepped into view. The guard startled at her appearance.
“Isa,” he said with a short bow. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Just on a routine sweep,” she told him.
He gestured down the long iron-clad hallway. “All quiet down here.”
When he turned back around, she had the powder in her hand, and she blew it into his face. He coughed twice, inhaling the hallucinogenic.
“What …” he gasped.
But already, it was taking effect. His pupils blasted out to near-total darkness, and specks of red filled what had remained of the irises. The high was so strong in concentrated doses that people sometimes gnawed off their own fingers to try to get the trip to stop. Most dealers in Kinkadia kept it under lock and key, only selling small amounts for a steep price. It could be quite pleasurable in the correct doses.
Isa would know. She’d had to take every drug the assassin school administered. Even the deadly ones. Because if an assassin couldn’t produce an antidote as well as the killing methods, they would end up as dead as their victims. But in the dose that she’d given him, the guard would stay high for a good half hour. He might remember that Isa had been there on a routine walk-through, but no one would believe him. He’d crash for days after the drug.
She planted the rest of the powder into his uniform and filched the keys. She tsked at him. “It’s always the quiet ones.”
Then, she strode down the long hallway. The iron made her blood recoil. It wasn’t exactly toxic to Fae, but it wasn’t pleasant. She didn’t know how anyone survived this place. Of course, that was the point.
It used to be that the cells were all empty. They were only occupied for short periods of time, and then the prisoners were sent on their way or killed for treason, whichever was appropriate. But now, the cells were lined with people. Way more than she’d ever seen in a jail. All because the Father had taken over and he wanted to make his point clear. There would be no dissent in Kinkadia.
It wasn’t working. But the fear was powerful nonetheless.
Finally, she came upon the last cell on the block and to the male she had been looking for.
Kivrin Argon.
He was nothing but a crippled Fae male, lying crouched in the center of the room on a filthy mat. His legs hadn’t been reset from where they’d been broken in the arena. His dark hair had grown out to his shoulders and was filthy. He was filthy. Every part of him after rotting away with no healing and no bathing for months. She could see fresh wounds from where they had beaten him, demanding answers that he couldn’t give. She couldn’t believe he was still alive under all that grime and not heading toward sepsis from the infections he must have down here in the dark.
Her heart gave a painful twist, and she had to retreat from her body at the feeling. She didn’t want to feel sorry for the male. He’d chosen. Hadn’t he?
She produced the keys.
Kivrin’s eyes opened slowly at the sound. One was nearly swollen shut from his last beating. He rasped something low, but she couldn’t make it out.
Finally, she found the right key and slid it into place. It made a screeching noise as she turned it. She winced, but there was no one left to investigate. She’d taken care of them all.
Kivrin said something else, and she sighed.
“I can’t understand you.”
“The fuck you want?” he growled in a rasp.
“From you? Nothing. I’m certainly not looking forward to this.”
The smell as she stepped into the cell was oppressive. They’d used magic to keep it from permeating past the door, but inside, it smelled rancid. The chamber pot clearly hadn’t been emptied in a good long while, and his body was a disgusting mix of body odor, blood, and sweat. She nearly gagged as she approached him.
He didn’t shrink away. There was still fire in his eyes. A male who didn’t break under torture. That was a surprise.
“You can do … your worst,” he spat.
“You don’t want that,” she assured him. “I’m the devil you see when your eyes close.”
He laughed. The bastard laughed at her. “I’ve seen the devil. He wears a golden face.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Poetic.”
“You are no Vulsan. You will not break me.”
Vulsan? Who the hell was that? The male had to be mad. Except that he didn’t seem insane. He seemed perfectly lucid. More with it than she had expected, especially after assessing his injuries.
“Then, you’re in luck. It’s just me, and we’re running out of time. Can you sit up?”
He glared at her. “I won’t do shit for you.”
She bent down, holding her breath to keep the stench from incapacitating her. “Do you want to get the fuck out of here or not?”
He narrowed his eyes. “This is a trap.”
“Maybe. But I’ve a bargain to keep. I can only get in with your daughter’s friends with you as collateral.”
“No.”
“No?” she asked incredulously.
“I won’t help you hurt them. I won’t let you hurt her.”
“I’m helping them, you idiot,” she snapped, her own anger coming to the forefront. “Do you want to get out of here or not?”
He looked at her warily, as if debating if she was telling the truth. Then, he must have decided that it was better to have a moment of hope than to stay here. He pushed himself up into a sitting position. His breath came out harshly at the exertion.
“Can you stand?”
His eyes were hard. “Something happened to my … spine.” He swallowed. “Legs don’t work anymore.”
No wonder the smell. Someone probably had to help him to the chamber pot if he couldn’t stand. And if not … then the indignity of pissing himself.
“Gods,” she muttered. “This will have to do.”
Kivrin still looked skeptical. “Why would you help me?”
“Don’t think on it too long,” she said as she removed the orb from her pocket.
The thing had a soft blue glow at the center. She’d taken it out of the vault when the Father was going through all the new magical artifacts that they had at their disposal. She claimed she wanted a way for a quick escape in a bad situation. In truth, she wanted a way to get away from him if he ever found out her true intentions. He hadn’t blinked. Just waved his hand and told her to keep it.
“That’s not good enough,” Kivrin argued.
But she was already gripping his shoulder. “Hold on tight.”
“What—”
His question was drowned out as the blue orb activated and light flashed in the darkness. She was glad it was quick. She didn’t have time to second-guess herself, as they were transported out of the dirty dungeon.