“Good. Let’s get the hell out of here.” Stanley turned tail and jogged down the pathway, his tail and whiskers twitching. “This place gives me the creeps.”
Draven bumped shoulders with her as he passed, while Ryder grabbed her hand and gave a comforting squeeze. Kincade stared at her the longest. She felt his eyes on her when she followed the others. When she glanced back, his face was expressionless, but she was beginning to understand why he was being such a hard-ass…the life and death decisions he made for the team over the years had forged his spine into steel.
He couldn’t afford to give in to the softer emotions, but she had no doubt his decisions ate away at his soul.
Morgan gave Ryder a small smile, then released his hand, dropping back. Ascher brushed his arm against her as he strode past. “Though it may not feel like it, you made the right decision.”
She nodded mutely, the lump in her throat from virtually sentencing those thirty-odd people to death making speaking impossible.
Then Ascher followed the rest down the narrow passageway, leaving her alone with Kincade.
“You will eventually lead this realm, and you’ll have to make the tough decisions. Maybe I’ve been overprotective, but I wanted to spare you that for as long as possible.” He appeared torn, some of the starch had been taken out of his spine as they followed the others. “But as you’ve been reminding me over and over, you don’t need my protection.”
“You’re wrong.” Morgan swallowed, her throat aching with too many emotions. “I will always need your protection, but what I need is for you to guide me, not stand sentinel in front of me.” She refused to look at him, her dread at what the future would hold if he didn’t understand making her feel trapped. “I need you at my side to make sure I don’t turn into a person who sees nothing wrong with what they are doing here.”
“You want me to be a judgmental asshole.” His tone was wry, and she couldn’t help giving a watery laugh.
“Exactly!”
“Though it might not feel like it, you made the right choice. We don’t have enough warriors to fight. The elves would’ve taken the students hostage long before we could rescue them, possibly even expelling them from the castle, or worse, used them in their experiments.”
“They still might.” Morgan’s mood darkened. “Did you ever wonder why they gave us shelter? It wasn’t out of the goodness of their hearts.”
“I know.” Kincade was grim. “We can’t let that happen.”
For once they were in agreement.
“Not much farther.” Stanley trotted ahead, his tail swishing. “I’ll show you where the dungeons are located, but that’s as far as I go. The rest is up to you.”
“Fair enough.” Morgan couldn’t ask him to do more.
He took two more paces, then pointed to a reinforced metal door with runes etched along the frame. “If your friend is in the dungeon, he will be beyond this door. This is as far as I go.”
Without saying anything else, he turned tail and streaked away, as if terrified they would force him through the door.
After what she’d seen in the last room, Morgan couldn’t make herself reach out and open the door.
“What if—”
“Don’t.” Kincade lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his fierce gaze. “They wouldn’t keep him in the dungeon if he was dead. Don’t let doubts into your head. They will only drive you crazy.”
Morgan nodded, wanting to smack herself for letting her fears get the better of her.
“It’s warded.” Ascher grabbed her hand before she could touch the knob. “Be careful.”
Since magic didn’t affect her like the others, she was the logical choice to go first. The instant her hand touched the metal, light flared from the runes, and magic crawled up her arms like hundreds of small mice, biting and nipping at her as they went.
Morgan gritted her teeth, doing her best not to wiggle as she felt thousands of tiny paws crawl all over her. She was so distracted, it took her a moment to realize that she wasn’t being held immobile. She wrenched open the door, wincing when the metal screeched in the darkness.
She half-expected to see guards pouring into the confined hall.
Only nothing happened besides getting smacked in the face with stale air that reminded her of a tomb. If she thought the rest of the castle was in disrepair, she was wrong. Here the stones were actually turning to dust, as if they could no longer hold the weight of the outside world.
“I thought elves were supposed to be fastidious. Why would they live in this squalor?”
Chains rustled from the last cell and a ghostly figure emerged from the shadows. “The magic that keeps this place running is gone. What little magic that’s left is used to keep up appearances and protect the gates. Occupation is minimal, but pride won’t let them abandon the castle.”
“Atlas!”
Morgan rushed forward, stopping dead when he flinched and stumbled away from her, barely catching himself against the wall.
“Atlas?”
Not wishing to startle him, Morgan passed the empty cells, the metal bars across most of them having long since rusted away. Even in the meager light, she could tell something was horribly wrong. Atlas’s normally immaculate clothes were a mess, bloodied and ripped in too many spots to count. His long, beautiful hair was a snarled mess, shorn just above his collar, revealing a face so bruised she doubted he could see out of one of his eyes.
Blood was still crusted around his nose and one ear.
“You shouldn’t have come.” His voice was low and rough, not the smooth, lyrical sound she was used to hearing from him, and he coughed roughly, as if speaking had cost him.
“What have they done to you?” Her heart was in tatters.
“I deserve to be here.” When he refused to look at her, the last bit of her control shattered.
“What. The. Fuck?”
He gave a snort, then grabbed his ribs, glancing at her through the sheared edges of his hair, shame darkening his forest-green eyes as their gazes met.
She saw everything in that one look.
Not only was he ashamed for her to see him like this, he truly believed what he was saying.
“You can’t mean that.”
“I was told never to return.” He leaned heavily against the stone wall behind him, as if suddenly exhausted, and she realized the dark stains on his clothes were blood.
His blood.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She began to pace. It was either that or finish the job the elves started by strangling him herself. “I can’t believe you’re defending them.”
“You need to leave.” He limped closer, reached out to touch her until he noticed the blood and grime on his hand. He stopped, curled his fingers into a fist before dropping his arm back to his side. “You’re not safe here. They only want me. You can still escape.”
Morgan stumbled back as if he’d coldcocked her.
“Not acceptable.” She mutinously lifted her chin, crossed her arms and began to tap her foot, ignoring the slight squish of what felt like bug guts and the crunch of bones underneath her boot. “I’m not going anywhere. We’re a team. We don’t leave one of our own behind.”
Morgan didn’t understand why he was being so damned stubborn.
If she wanted him to cooperate and help abet his escape, then she had to stop playing fair.
“If you stay, then so do I.”
For the first time since she’d spotted him in his godforsaken cell, he began to crack. He scowled at her, his chains rattling with his agitation, and he glared at her then nodded to the guys behind her. “The elves can’t learn about her heritage. You have to make her leave. Now.”
“Nah, man.” Draven leaned against the wall and lifted his hand, inspecting his nails as if he had all the time in the world. “I was willing to leave your ass behind when I thought you were slumming it with us, but she’s right. You’re one of us now, and we don’t leave a teammate behind.”
Morgan beamed at him, especially when the other guys followed his lead by nodding their agreement.