My regard returns to the mirror. No more than a tall shard of glass leaning against grimy stone. No fire. No rugs. No cascading curtains. The window is a simple barred rectangle. I jog to it, fit my face between the two middle bars.
I’m not on a high floor. This is a basement—a dungeon. The familiar odor of horse doo forces me back. I hold my breath and press my face forward, wanting the full picture to sink in.
Whinny, neigh.
My prison is below a stable, not near one. That dirty, rotten, no-good—I didn’t want to let him fool me, but he did. He called me granddaughter, with a term of endearment. I actually believed he was going to let me see Mom.
I turn my back to the wall, sink to the cold floor, and hug my knees. I’m starving, exhausted, crying yet again. I should’ve eaten more when I thought the tray of stale rolls was a mountain of baker’s goods. There’s no hope of escape or rescue. As Jasyn’s guest, I really believed it might be as simple as sneaking Mom out after everyone went to bed. How could I have been so naive?
The stranger doesn’t call to me again. Just as well. I’m not in the mood to talk.
I could shout out the window for help, but what’s the point? Even if I could lead the people to their king, what chance would an old, incarcerated man and the cast of Les Mis have against Jasyn and the Void? He’s Javert to their Jean Valjean. Except this time, the villain wins. The people of the Haven dress in rags and carry outdated weapons. Jasyn’s men have blades and guns and possess the ability to paralyze with a look or injure with a snap. He has electricity—power. What other weapons and resources does he have up his custom-tailored sleeves?
My blood boils and burns, drying my tears. This is all King Aidan’s fault. I pity the people of the Haven and their useless, dangerous hope. Aidan and his queen didn’t vanish, they left, but everyone is too blind to admit it. Too afraid of the truth. The rulers must’ve sensed mutiny was on the horizon. If they hadn’t given up, the Void might still be imprisoned. Joshua might still be alive. Mom would probably be working on her first winter sketch right now.
Jasyn Crowe might be a horrible, evil man, but King Aidan was worse. He abandoned his people, left them with nothing.
Clang. Crreeeaaakkk.
My head snaps up. I did it again. I fell asleep.
The cell door fans open. In the fractals of lamplight bleeding through the window bars, only a shadow is visible.
“Go away, Jasyn. The jig is up.”
He steps into the cell and closes the door. He doesn’t speak. Slinks toward me, keeping to the shadows.
My heart stampedes. This isn’t Jasyn Crowe. I get up, pressing my back against the stone. If whoever it is plans to try something, I won’t go down without a fight. I’ll kick and shriek, making it as difficult as possible for him to get what he wants.
Closer, closer. I open my mouth to scream and then . . . then the stranger steps into view. He flashes a crooked smile, his mismatched gaze exuding arrogance. Beneath the moonlight his tussock of cowlicks is the color of warm honey, caramel streaks melted in here and there.
What am I thinking? Nothing about him is warm. He will always be that boy—the one who took everything from me.
Arms crossed he says, “Are you going to stand there all day, or are we getting out of here?”
Anger flares. Three, two, one. Breathe.
“Ky.”
FOURTEEN
Don’t Dream
I’ve never punched anyone before. First time for everything, I guess.
Charging, I reel my right arm back. Swing.
Ky blocks the blow easily, catching my clenched fist in his palm. “I’d love to stay and teach you a thing or two about self-defense. But I’m afraid we’ll have to reschedule.” He’s clad in black, a knife sheathed at his hip. Black boots. Black leather jacket. Black. Black. Black. Could it be any more obvious he’s one of the bad guys?
I rip my fist from his grasp. “I’m not going anywhere with you.” My knee jerks up.
He dodges my attempt. “Did you really think that would work a second time?” He shakes his head, blond tendrils brushing his eyelashes. “Nice try, princess. Let’s go.”
Feet planted, I lift my chin and glare.
“Don’t make me carry you out over my shoulder.”
Gaze narrowed and teeth gritted, I hiss, “Go ahead and try.”
And he does.
“Hey! Put me down.” I pound his back with my fists. Pointless. We’re out the door and into a new-to-me sconce-lit hall. How did Jasyn do that? Not only did he lead me to believe I was in a suite, but he made me see white-walled halls and paintings and fancy carpet. Was it one of those façade things Stormy mentioned?
Two guards lie crumpled in a heap on the floor. Ky steps over them, hoisting my body and tightening his hold. The guards are dressed in the same pirate garb my captor wears. My brow knits. Ky’s dressed the same, but he had to knock the guards out to get to me. What game is Jasyn playing?
When we head up a spiral stone staircase, I stop fighting.
Ky sets me down on the step above his. “Can I trust you to behave? Once we’re out of the dungeon, we’ll have new problems.”
“You really expect me to believe you’re rescuing me? After all you’ve done to prove where your loyalties lie?”
An orange glow washes his face, a grin lifting his cheeks. “Consider this. How do you think your mother escaped the castle the night I kidnapped you?” When I don’t answer he says, “I freed her so she could help you, genius.” His eyebrows arch.
Makai said Mom had someone on the inside. But it couldn’t be Ky. Could it?
My guard lowers a fraction.
“If David and Archer had arrived at the Pond sooner,” Ky continues, “Haman wouldn’t have involved himself. Then you, them, your mom—you’d all be safe right now.”
Guard back up. How dare he blame this on Joshua and Makai. “What a load of manure.” I move to walk past him. I’d rather be back in my cell than listen to this garbage.
He grabs my shoulder. “Stop. I can prove I’m telling the truth. Just give me a chance.”
Ugh. I face him. We’re on the same step now. So close. Too close. “Why kidnap me in the first place then? If you’re so bent on helping the rebels?”
“I never wanted to aid Crowe, but I had my reasons for making him believe I served the Void.” A pause. He stares at the wall past my shoulder. Clenches and unclenches his fists. “Those reasons are no longer valid.”
This oughta be good. “Do tell.”
He flattens his lips. “Look, all you need to know is before I delivered you to Crowe, I couldn’t let him know I helped the rebels in secret. Now it doesn’t matter. I don’t care if he finds out.”
“Why not?”
His shoulders sink. “Because I have nothing left to lose.”
“So your ‘poor me’ act at the Haven. That was . . . ?”
“I thought if you felt sorry for me it’d be easier to get you to trust me.”
“I don’t believe this. ” I fling my arms in the air, then let them collapse at my sides. “You’re admitting you deceived me and expect me to go with you now?”
“Actually, yes.” He thumbs his chest. “I just incapacitated two of Crowe’s men, guys I know, to get you out. Why would I do that if this wasn’t really a jailbreak?”
“Some warped version of capture the flag?”
Thud, thud, thud.