I never said I was a nice man.
As I made my way down the hall, the darkness seemed to swallow up the intermittent light from the lanterns. We were deep underground. But I still felt as if I could feel dawn teasing us, those first rays of golden light trying to seep down.
At first light, Lucien Finn would hang.
We were racing the clock to save that idiotic girl.
Jaik and the others were so sure she was masquerading as Lucien Finn. I trusted Jaik, but I couldn’t imagine why anyone would choose to take that fool’s face. Honor was often hard to understand but voluntarily becoming Lucien Finn seemed like a new low to me.
Regardless, when I overheard the guards talking about bringing out the prisoners, I heard a familiar voice accepting the assignment of bringing her up. Good.
I grabbed Folger’s arm as he passed in the dark. He turned on me, ready for a fight, then shrank back when he saw who I was.
“Lord Branok,” he whispered in reverence, or fear—I wasn’t picky as long as I got what I wanted.
“I’ll take it from here.” I plucked my guard’s clothes.
Fear sparked in his gaze.
“Don’t worry,” I told him cheerfully. “I’ll help.”
I knocked him unconscious and pushed him into a nearby cell.
I made my way down to Lucien Finn.
Her eyes lit up when she saw me, even in Lucien’s form. There was something feminine and elegant about the way she moved, a sway in her hips as she came to the bars. I wondered how I could have missed who she really was. I’d always thought Lucien moved with a mixture of clumsiness and grace by turns that I found annoying.
“Branok,” she said teasingly. “And here I thought you’d never come.”
It was just like her to sound so certain as if I owed her something.
I shushed her, raising a gloved finger to my lips. My disguise as one of the guards wouldn’t last very long if she blathered about who I was in earshot of any of the guards that I hadn’t bought off or owned with secrets.
I unlocked her cell door and reached out my hand to her. She put her hand into mine, and I dropped it to grab her elbow, seizing her roughly. I didn’t know what the hell she thought the two of us were to each other. She was going to pretend to be my prisoner on our way out of here.
It didn’t seem like Honor to try to hold my hand. Or to move with such feminine grace. I’d seen Honor dance.
The wheels turned for me and I dropped my gaze to study the elbow I held. Her hands were smooth, beautiful and perfect.
Nothing about Honor was perfect. She was messy and scarred and as imperfect as a broken vase glued-back together with molten gold to fill the cracks. Her hands were just the same, with perpetual scars covering her knuckles from fighting.
This wasn’t Honor. And as soon as I realized that, I realized who it likely was. It was just like Pend to put Honor with Alis. He’d made her face her nightmares to inflict as much pain as possible, before hastily sending Lucien to the gallows. I’d spent a lot of time wishing Lucien dead, but I didn’t understand why Pend wanted Lucien dead so badly. But I wasn’t going to let it happen.
Seeing ‘Honor’ hung on the gallows would go a long way to buying us space and time to protect Honor.
“You like that spell so much, Alis,” I said mildly, and her gaze widened as she turned to me. “You should keep it. It looks good on you.”
I didn’t have a potion for this spell, so I had to pour all my magic into slapping my hand across her face, summoning every bit of power. This was an old spell I’d learned from Teris, not that Teris had intended to teach it to me.
She let out a gasp and tried to pull free. I grabbed her elbow harder. “There’s no escaping your fate,” I told her.
With my free hand, I drew up my mask, then raised my cloak’s hood to cover my face. I wish I knew the spell that Honor—and Alis—had used to imitate Lucien. I hadn’t even known such a thing was possible.
There was no time now to go find the real Honor; Caldren and Jaik would find Honor and get her free while I distracted everyone else with this spectacle. The crowd was waiting.
I dragged Alis along the passage toward the gallows. She kept begging me. “You know Honor wants me alive. I’m her mother, Branok, I’m her mother… she’ll be devastated.”
“Too bad for you both that I’ve never been much of a friend to Honor,” I told her. “I won’t see her dead, but I think I can manage with devastated if it means I never have to deal with your lies.”
I turned a corner and we were in the long passageway that led steadily upward. First line shone through the open door that led out to the courtyard where the gallows was. A dozen masked, hooded men stood there, waiting to deal merciless justice.
It was just what Alis deserved.
“She’s going to hate you,” she hissed in a voice full of fury. I reached into my pocket and drew out my last potion bottle, uncapping it with my thumb. I blocked her from the guards with my body as I forced it to her lips.
“Honor’s welcome to hate me, as long as she’s alive,” I promised Alis, then forced the potion to her lips. She thrust her head from side to side, trying to escape me, but I was patient and implacable. I didn’t want her screaming any secrets that might raise an alarm. Pend and his men would be suspicious.
The liquid went down her throat.
“Shut up, Alis. No more lies.”
She made a strangled sound in the back of her throat, but she seemed to gag on every word she tried to speak. I’d learned so well from Teris and Pend. They were always forcing silence.
I dragged her the rest of the way. Some of the guards were already coming down the passage; they’d seen the struggle, but not what it was about.
One of them slapped ‘Lucien Finn’ so hard his nose began to bleed, then dragged him out into the light.
I’d always wanted to see Lucien hung. I made my way out into the courtyard, beginning to melt into the crowd. I had to trust Jaik and Caldren to take it from here. I tried to send Jaik the mental image of Lucien standing on the platform.
The pronouncement of guilt was even quicker than the drop of the noose.
Then Alis’s feet dangled above us all, wearing Lucien Finn’s shoes.
Lucien Finn was dead.
Long live Honor Hannaby.
Chapter
Sixty
Honor
I woke to the sound of grouchy male voices.
My head ached groggily. Waking up down here reminded me of floating just below the surface of wakefulness in that bed at the northern retreat. I remembered hearing Jaik’s quiet voice, and Lynx’s, and even Branok’s, even though I couldn’t pick out what they’d said. But their voices had been a tether to this world.
And they still were.
“Branok never came back with the damned keys,” Jaik said.
“Oh, I’ve been spending enough time with Honor. I don’t need keys,” Caldren answered.
Their two voices—together—sent warmth spreading through my chest. They’d come for me.