“The guards took this off you.” Her pointer finger caresses the handle, her movement reverent, if not a bit distracted, like she’s lost in a memory. “Do you know the name of this blade?”
Papa’s dagger in her hands is all wrong. I have to bite my lip to stop myself from snapping at her and demanding it back. For as much as I try to keep Papa’s blade on me at all times, it’s alarming how often the weapon’s been taken away in the last three months.
Her finger moves to the tip, where she adds a little pressure to the edge until a bright spot of crimson bubbles to the surface.
“This is an Akin Blade, one of a pair. Where is its counterpart, Britta?”
I shrug. No way I’ll tell her Cohen has it.
Her expression turns sly, like a happily fed cat. “Very well. Did you know Akin Blades are made in pairs, to be used together?”
She must see my uncertain expression, because she adds, “When two Spiriters of the same blood and similar energy are in battle side by side, the Akin Blades react to one another, becoming more powerful.”
Is this why she wants me to join her? To fight by her side? My eyes linger too long on the blade.
She slips the dagger into her pocket. “You want to know more. I can see it. There’s so much I can teach you, Britta.”
She’s right. There’s so much I want to learn. But not at her hand. Not with the cost being the king’s life.
A shadow leaps behind her.
I stop myself from screaming, realizing it’s Aodren. Phelia spins around, her hand rising, wrist cocked. Aodren swings an unlit torch. But Phelia dodges it and grasps his arm. There’s a split second where his face shifts into a question. And then his back bows in an unnatural arc. A cry of pain bursts from his lips.
Dread thunders through me. I fight to wrench the bars apart, but my energy’s too frantic to use.
Desperate to distract Phelia, I yell, “Rozen! Mother!”
She whirls to me, ice-blue eyes clear with surprise. It is an age-old manipulation, one that I am shocked she fell for. She smiles, unaware of the bitterness filling my mouth.
Aodren recovers and slams the torch against the back of her head. Phelia’s expression collapses. Her body plummets to the dungeon floor.
I shake off the odd wave of guilt, shifting my attention to Aodren, who looks greenish in the dim light. Relief and shock hiccup through me until I manage to find my voice. “You—you’re here?”
He cants his head to the side and gives me a strange look. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I just didn’t think you had the . . .” I stop talking and shrug. Whatever I’d been about to say, I’d been wrong.
He reaches for the lock. “Where did she put the keys?”
“In her pocket.”
Aodren scavenges through Phelia’s cloak and reveals my dagger, tossing it to me, and the ring of keys. “There have to be at least fifty here.”
He kneels at my cell and inserts a key, trying to twist the lock open, only to frown and move to the next one.
“Britta, Britt.” Finn’s calling my name.
I maneuver to see him. He thrusts his hand between the bars, pointing at Phelia. “I think she’s waking up.”
Phelia’s eyes are still closed but her knee jerks. No, no, no. “Faster, Aodren.”
He flips from key to key. Tries one. Mutters. Tries another. I keep my eyes on her, hearing the metal clank and him curse.
Phelia moves again, a small twitch in her chin, and I’m so full of anxiety that it takes me a moment to realize that Aodren’s opened my cell and moved onto Gillian’s.
Once he pops her door open, he tosses me the keys. “Work on Finn’s, and I’ll pick up Miss Tierney.”
I shove key after key in Finn’s cell lock, moving my fingers as fast as I can. Aodren is at my side a moment later, Gillian in his arms. If only she was awake now, she’d be a twittering, fidgeting, happy mess. It’s not every day a lady gets carried about by the king of Malam.
Aodren’s face is whiter than mine as he takes in her many bruises. “Her pulse is strong.”
“She’ll make it,” I say, my voice shrill with false bravery as I keep working on opening the cell.
Finally, Finn’s lock clicks open. He scurries out to huddle beside me, his poor twiggy frame awkward with sluggish movement. Shivers take over his body. I use the blanket that Phelia put on Gillian to wrap around him.
“W-w-what about you?” he chatters. I wave his concern away; we have other worries. Besides, this dress has so many layers, I could be in a blizzard and still not be cold.
Phelia moans.
“K-kill her,” Finn says.
I fist my dagger, knowing it’s what should be done. And yet, my arms lock. She needs to be stopped, but I cannot. It’s not in me to end her life.
“Or lock her up,” Aodren says, his face full of understanding. “That will hold her long enough for us to escape.”
I crack a hint of a smile at his oddly positive attitude, all things considered.
Finn helps me drag her into my cell. The curved bars are what give me pause. I look at them and then squat beside Phelia, knowing she’ll find a way out of the dungeon the moment she wakes.
I don’t know what I’m capable of, but I know I have to do something. My hand goes to her wrist and nearly flies off again at the heat emanating from her scarred skin. I wrap my fingers around her arm again, imagining it’s an exercise with Enat in the woods.
The dungeon fades as Phelia’s whooshing energy steals my sole focus. Her life force is a gale wind, raging loud beneath her skin. I figure if I can push my life force into another to revitalize and heal them, then I should be able to encourage my energy to do other things.
I concentrate on my pulse and wade through our connection, sending just enough energy to mix with hers.
Then I coax the entwined energies to settle. Sleep.
My arm tingles and drowsiness drags through my muscles. Her face goes slack. Her breath moves softly through her lips. I break contact, exit her cell, and lock it behind me. Phelia doesn’t move, and I hope that means she’s fallen deeply asleep.
“Ready?”
Finn and Aodren stare at me.
It takes a second for Aodren to snap out of his trance. “That was bloody amazing.” He smiles. “I can lead us out through the hidden passageways. But we still might come across Jamis’s men. If I’m holding Gillian, I won’t be able to help fight.”
“I’ll do it.” Finn clutches the blanket and puts on a brave face. “Do you have another blade for me?”
“Take the sword from my belt.” Aodren inclines his head.
Once Finn is armed, we go ahead of Aodren and Gillian, ensuring the path is clear. We make it out of the dungeon, where two slain guards lay in the hall. I glance at the king, and he ducks, as if in shame. In this aspect, perhaps we’re more similar than I thought. Inflicting death has never been a light choice for me.
“One action does not define a man, but rather the sum of all his actions,” I whisper, finding myself repeating something Papa once said. It sounds a little inane coming from my mouth.
“Wise words.” Aodren gathers Gillian tighter to his chest. “Let’s hope the sum of my actions proves I’m more than a man who’s only brought death to his people.”
Chapter
34
Aodren