“Sounds like a dead end,” Circ says from down the row.
“That’s what I thought, but when I went to inspect the lions, there were faint cracks running from above and below them, like someone had torn away the rocks at one time, and then put them back together piece by piece, so perfectly you could barely tell they’d been pulled away.
“So I pushed on the lions, hard, with all my might, and guess what? They pressed into the wall.”
“Into the wall, Icer?” Feve says.
“Yah. Right in, like there was nothing behind them. But that’s not the strangest thing. As soon as the brass lions disappeared, there was the sound of chains pulling, clinking through a pulley. The door started to rise.”
“Holy blaze!” Skye says. “A secret room.”
“More than that,” Wes says, jamming his eyes shut as if they’re stinging. When they flash open, there’s hurt in them. “A prison,” he says. “A child prison. Past the door were little bodies, brown-skinned and every one of them shrinking back from me as if I might hit them, or do worse. I just stood there for a minute, shell-shocked, searching the faces, wishing beyond wishes that she’d be there. Jolie, that is. Do they know about Jolie?”
I nod, my eyes never leaving Wes’s face, urging him silently to continue, to tell me the part where he finds Jolie, where he tries to escape with her, where he gets caught and they take her away again. The part where at least she’s still alive.
“She wasn’t there,” he says, and my heart sinks into my empty stomach, beating dully, thumping a hole in my gut.
“Maybe you just didn’t see her?” Buff says.
“Maybe,” he says. “Before I could go in, really look at them all, someone grabbed me from behind, threw a bag over my head, and dragged me down here.”
His words are still hitting my ears, but I’m not really hearing them, because I’m back at how he didn’t see Jolie, how she wasn’t there, how for all we know she’s been planted in the ground somewhere, having outgrown her usefulness to the king.
“Any of them children you saw older?” Skye asks, and I want to bang my head against the wall for not thinking to ask it myself. She probably thinks I’m all selfishness and no caring. Always focused on my own problems and no one else’s. She’s lost a sister, too. We’ve got that in common, which is what I gotta get through my freeze-brained head.
Wes shakes his head. “They all looked to be seven, eight years old. Nine at the most. No older than that. Why?”
Skye just slaps a fist in her palm, so I tell him what Skye and Siena told me about their sister.
“This whole thing is icin’ sick,” Wes says when I finish.
“We’re knocked,” Siena says. “There ain’t no way out now. Not unless the sun goddess decides to shine down on us.”
I grab the bars, slump against them. The sheet of gray clouds covering ice country will prevent the sun goddess or any other goddess from seeing any of what’s happening here.
No one says anything after that.
~~~
I don’t even bother with the gruel. It’s tasteless and unsatisfying anyway. My stomach rumbles, but I ignore it. The others eat theirs and keep up a healthy chatter, all about how else they can escape, whether there’s any other way now that our inside man’s a little too far on the inside.
I ignore that, too, throwing all my thoughts into beating on myself, what a failure I am. Everything I’ve done over the last year has been a complete and utter disaster. Nothing’s gone right, nothing’s felt right, nothing’s been right. Every move’s been a mistake, picking apart my life piece by ice-sucking piece.
I’m about to see if I’m flexible enough to kick my own arse, when there’s a “Psst!” from beside me. I look over. It’s Skye, because, of course, who else would it be? There’s no one else over there.
I glance around. The others are still talking, even Wes, passing thoughts back and forth with Siena, Feve and Circ, like he’s known them his whole life. That’s Wes’s way. He’s a fitter-inner, always has been.
Surprised, I scoot over to Skye, close enough that if I reached out like Siena and Circ always do, and if she did the same, then we could touch through the bars.
“Ready to stop feelin’ burnin’ sorry for yerself?” she asks.
I don’t know what I expected her to say, but not that. “I freezed everything up,” I say.
“You tried,” Skye says. “That’s all you can do in this sun goddess searin’ life.”
I look at her and she looks at me and I get lost so quick it’s like I’m in another place and maybe there are no bars and no walls and nothing at all separating us. Her hand reaches out into the empty space between us. I stare at it, sun-kissed and full of strength. Strength I’m missing, ever since Wes was pushed through the dungeon door. Strength I need.
I reach out and take it.
It’s an icin’ good feeling, her hand touching mine, made up of something more solid and realer than the few other womanly touches I’ve felt since I became a man. Holding her hand for just those few short seconds makes those three other girls seem like distant memories.
She lets go, a smile on her face as she pulls away. “I like you,” she says. “Even better when you’re like this. Alive.”
~~~
The others aren’t giving up and neither am I. There’s too much at stake, for all of us.
We’ve got a simple plan, but it might just work. It has to. The only thing left to decide is who—
“I once wrestled a bear with my bare hands,” Buff says.
“It was a very hairy, drunken man,” I say, “and he ended up passed out on top of you.”
“What’s a bear?” Siena asks.
“He sure felt like a bear,” Buff says, scratching his head.
“You’re not the best fighter here, Buff,” I say, “so just let it go.”
“And you are, Icy?” Feve says, forcing me to duck to avoid his eye darts.
“Why does he keep calling you ‘Icy’?” Wes hisses from across the way.
I shake my head, both because I don’t know if we’ll ever decide who’s best suited to carry out the plan, and at my brother, because, well, there’re some things that just can’t be explained, at least not easily. “I’m not saying anything,” I say. “But I doubt if you’re the one either.”
Feve glares at me, and I glare right back.
“Quiet! Everyone!” Wilde snaps. Her command echoes once, twice, and then fades, along with all our arguments. “Good sun goddess,” she says. “You’d think we were from different planets rather than different countries. Let’s just take a vote and be done with it.”
“Are we all eligible for the vote?” Buff asks.
“Yes.” No one has anything to say to that, so Wilde says, “We’ll go around and everyone can name who they think is the best fighter.”
“I’ll start,” Buff says. “Dazz. I’ve seen him take down three knife fighters with just his fists and maybe a head butt or two.” I silently thank my friend for the vote of confidence.
“Head and butt seem to go together all too well for him,” Feve mumbles.
I bite back a retort. No one’s voted for him yet so…
Wilde says, “Skye. She trains my young warriors and she’s the best I’ve seen.” I look at Skye but there’s no pride on her face. Just belief.
Feve says, “Circ.”
“Siena,” Circ says.
“Circ,” Siena says.
“That’s two for Circ, one for Skye, one for Siena, and one for Dazz,” Wilde says, recapping.
Wes says, “Dazz.” I look at him, surprised, and he says, “I know, I know, I’ve never seen you fight. But I hear people talk, and no matter how many times I’ve had to clean up the cuts and bruises on your face, they always say the other guy looked ten times worse.” I nod, feeling a burst of pride in my chest. I never realized he listened to the talk about me.
“Skye,” I say, knotting the count at two apiece for me, Circ, and Skye.
“The decision is yours, Skye,” Wilde says.
She doesn’t flinch, just smiles, not one shred of doubt in her eyes. “Me,” she says.