Torn (A Trylle Novel)

I stepped out from underneath the staircase and almost ran into Loki. He leaned casually against the stairs, his elbow resting on the railing and his legs crossed at the ankles. I nearly screamed, but I caught myself, knowing that drawing further attention would only make things worse.

 

“Hello, Princess.” Loki grinned at me. “Couldn’t sleep?”

 

He and Ludlow had been calling me “Princess” from the beginning, and I thought they were taunting me about my standing with the Trylle. But I realized I was their Princess too, and he was actually giving me some form of reverence.

 

Unfortunately, I knew that my title pulled no weight with him. Right now I was a prisoner too.

 

“Yeah, I just … I needed something to eat,” I fumbled.

 

“A likely story,” he said, and his expression became skeptical. “If only I could believe you.”

 

“I haven’t had anything to eat all day.” While that was actually the truth, my nerves had my stomach too racked to even think about eating.

 

“What do you plan to do?” Loki asked, ignoring my feeble excuse. “Even if you find the dungeon, how will you get them out?”

 

“I won’t, now. You’re gonna run and tell on me, aren’t you?” I studied his eyes, trying to get a read on him, but he looked as amused as he always did.

 

“Maybe.” He shrugged as if he hadn’t decided yet. “Let me hear your plan. It’s probably not even worth bothering anyone with.”

 

“What makes you say that?” I asked.

 

“You seem like a self-saboteur,” he said. I opened my mouth to protest, and he laughed at my obvious indignation. “Don’t take it personally, Princess. It happens to the best of us.”

 

“I’m not going to stop until I get my friends out of here.”

 

“Now that I believe.” He leaned in toward me. “This all goes so much easier when you’re honest.”

 

“Like I’m the one being devious,” I scoffed.

 

“I haven’t lied to you yet,” he said, sounding oddly serious.

 

“All right, then,” I said. “How do I break my friends out of the dungeon?”

 

“Just because I don’t lie doesn’t mean I’ll answer you.” Loki smiled.

 

“Fine. I’ll find them myself.”

 

I felt confident he wouldn’t stop me, although I didn’t know why he wouldn’t. If Oren found out that he was even indulging my plans for escape, I’m sure it wouldn’t bode well for him.

 

When I brushed past him, walking down the corridor to where I thought the main hall was, he followed me. I tried to walk quickly, but he matched my pace with ease.

 

“You think it’s this way, do you?” Loki asked, a teasing lilt in his voice.

 

“Don’t try to confuse me. I know my directions. I don’t get lost,” I lied. I got lost a lot. “Isn’t that a Trylle affinity or something?”

 

“I don’t know. I’m not Trylle,” he replied. “And neither are you.”

 

“I’m half Trylle,” I said defensively.

 

Why was I defending it? I didn’t even want to be Trylle, or Vittra, or anything. Plain ordinary human had suited me just fine my whole life. Now that I found myself in this ethnic quagmire, I felt strangely protective of the Trylle and F?rening. Apparently, I cared more than I thought I did.

 

“You’re rather feisty for a Princess,” Loki remarked, watching me as I walked purposefully down the hallway.

 

“How many Princesses have you met?” I countered.

 

“None.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “I suppose I thought you’d be more like Sara. She isn’t feisty at all.”

 

“Sara’s not my mother,” I said.

 

When we reached the main hall, I wanted to jump up and down, but it didn’t seem appropriate. Besides, I’d only found the doorway to the dungeon. I still had to actually rescue Matt and Rhys.

 

“Now what?” Loki asked, pausing in the center of the hall.

 

“I go down and get them.” I pointed to the large doors leading down to the basement.

 

“No, I don’t very much care for that idea.” He shook his head.

 

“Of course you don’t. You don’t want me to get them out,” I said. My heart beat rapidly, and I wondered exactly how far Loki would let me take this.

 

“That’s not why. It just doesn’t seem very interesting.” He pushed up the sleeves of his sweater, revealing his tanned forearms. “In fact, I’m rather bored with the whole thing. Why don’t we do something else?”

 

“No, I’m getting them out,” I said. “I won’t let you keep us prisoner here.”

 

He laughed darkly at that and shook his head.

 

“Why is that funny?” I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest.

 

“You say that as if I’m the one holding you captive.” He’d glanced away from me, but when he looked back, he smiled bitterly and his eyes were sad. “This is Ondarike. We’re all prisoners here.”

 

“You expect me to believe that you’re being held against your will?” I raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You’re roaming around the castle freely.”

 

“As are you.” He turned away from me then. “Not all prisons have bars. You should know that better than anyone, Princess.”

 

“So you’re not the King’s head henchman?” I asked.