The click of a key in a lock awoke me. I sat, disoriented, my sluggish mind dredging up awful images of Arnik’s death and a lingering nightmare of Irrik burning me with his terrible fire. But there were other images, too—like me kissing Irrik—that brought confusion. What was I thinking?
My thoughts dissipated when a hooded figure entered my cell.
“Tyr?” I whispered, certain I was still dreaming.
Instead of rushing to me, he waved me to the door, staying outside.
I crossed my cell, and he reached for me, pulling me to him, the bars between us. As soon as our skin touched, I heard his thoughts.
I’ve been so worried. He brushed his lips to my forehead. I have no time to explain. Please listen. When I said nothing, he continued. My love, you must escape.
My heart stuttered and I blinked several times. “You love me?”
I have loved you from the first moment I laid eyes on you.
“In the torture room?”
He pressed a whisper of a kiss to my lips. Before that.
Tyr loved me. A fierce joy bubbled inside me, and a grin spread across my face despite my attempts to control it. I peeked up at him and lifted a hand to stroke his jaw.
“I love you, too, Tyr.” We shared an intense, desperate love born of the constant threat to our lives. My heart was full of this man, and my soul knew him. I sighed. “I’m not leaving without you.”
How was it possible that Irrik told me to leave and then maybe a dozen hours later Tyr showed up to let me out? Even in my exhausted stupor I knew they must be working together. “What about you and Irrik?”
Tyr stilled. What?
“You heard me. When are you and Irrik going to escape? And what about Ty? Or was he the one who betrayed me?”
Tension rolled off Tyr in waves. When he pulled me to him, I went willingly, though seeing the walls of his secrets more clearly than ever before. Putting my hand to his cheek, I pushed my thoughts at him. Do you know who betrayed the rebels?
He nodded, slowly. A clank down the hall made us both jump. Tyr let go of me, set the key on the floor, and kicked it to me.
I stared at the glinting object.
Holy-freaking-Drae. I had a key.
When I looked up, Tyr was gone.
I sat in the dark and counted to one hundred at least a dozen times. By then, I felt ready to crawl out of my skin.
I fumbled with the key in the lock for a minute before I heard it click open, and I let out a shaking breath when I stepped through the doorway. I passed Ty’s cell, a rumpled blanket on a mattress was the only evidence he’d been there. Curiosity seized me, and I stopped to see if the key would work on his cell.
It did. The door creaked as I swung it open, and I moved into my prison buddy’s abandoned space. There was no way to know how long he’d been gone.
I lifted the blanket and discovered a heap of rumpled fabric underneath. I reached down, pulled up the loose fabric, and stared at it in stunned silence. It was a navy aketon.
A Druman aketon.
Ty told me Jotun had poured acid down his throat, and that was why he rasped. But that wasn’t why at all. How much of his Druman throat was damaged? Which of the king’s Druman had played me the fool? Had he gone back to his Druman buddies and laughed over me pouring my heart out to him about my mother?
I dropped the aketon and nudged it over with my foot. Beneath it was a dagger, the small blade was still in its leather sheath, almost begging me to take it. I scooped it up and swung the belt around my waist.
I glanced down at my pale shift.
“Crap,” I muttered. There weren’t any female Druman, but the uniform would help me blend in more than what I had on. Disgusted by the thought of wearing anything that had belonged to him, I pulled Fake Ty’s navy aketon over my head. The aketon was long and provided plenty of concealment for the dagger belted around my waist underneath.
Perfect.
I crept out of dungeon-buddy-traitor’s cell and headed to the stairwell. There, I stood at the bottom, heart pounding, listening for sounds of people descending. No hint of disturbance reached my ears. Swallowing back fear, I gave myself a stellar pep talk: Run, Ryn. Run.
With adrenaline coursing through my veins, I took the stairs two at a time. I ran for my life, forcing all the horrendous things that had happened to me—Mum’s death, Arnik’s death, Ty’s betrayal—to the side.
Until I reached the torture landing.
A scream echoed down the hall, one filled with pain and anguish. A scream of bloodcurdling loss, one that petrified me.
For one second too many.
A door opened, and Jotun stalked out of one of the torture rooms, a gleam of malice on his twisted face. Our gazes locked—his momentarily startled to see me—and abhorrence rose so strong I could taste bitterness in the back of my throat.
I smiled back at him. I’d killed his Drae side in the fields. Jotun was human now, and still recovering.
I yelled as I charged, dropping my shoulder to deliver as much impact as I could. I thought of Irrik’s strength and wished for it. I collided with Jotun, and the air rushed from my lungs as we skidded several feet over the rough stone. I landed on him, and my lip curled as Jotun absorbed the brunt of our fall.
He grunted beneath me, but I didn’t give him time to recover. I struck at him with my fists, and when that didn’t prove enough, I clawed at his face. Spittle flew from my mouth as I screamed a wordless tirade on him, the sound of someone who had suffered greatly and was bent on revenge. I cried as the nightmares he’d induced crawled and writhed to the surface. He whimpered beneath me. The only sound of pain he could manage—his equivalent of an agonized scream—but I had no pity for the monster who’d inflicted horrific torture on so many—inflicted it and found sadistic joy in it. He deserved to feel the same awful pain. I wanted to deliver it to him.
The dying light caught my tears on Jotun’s face and broke through my relentless attack.
I did want to deliver Jotun pain. I wanted to draw it out for days. Jotun didn’t deserve a quick end.
But I wanted my freedom more than I wanted vindication.
I shifted to pull the dagger from my belt. My eyes widened as I saw Jotun going for a blade at his side. I lunged for the hilt of his weapon, and we wrestled, falling back to the ground. His knee twisted beneath him, and his face contorted. His grip weakened, and I wrenched the dagger from his hands.
Placing my knee in the center of his chest, I drove the blade between his ribs and deep into his chest.
Jotun bucked and threw me off. He was only human now and weakened, but he was still larger than me. Rolling away, I clambered to my feet and turned to run toward the stairs, picking up the sound of pounding footsteps.
I took two steps before slowing.
I was too late. Druman filled the passageway as I watched.