A hunter gave him a confused look.
“I don’t know how long my father wants him alive,” Cas said. “Do you want him to die of an infection?”
“Yes, Your Highness,” a guard said, turning away.
“You can go,” Cas said to the four hunters crowding around the cell. “Thank you.”
They disappeared up the stairs, leaving just Galo and three other guards. Cas stepped to the open door of the cell, leaning against it.
“Perhaps we should close the door, Your Highness,” a guard said.
“After his wound is cleaned.” He held out his hand. “May I have a sword, though?”
A guard withdrew his blade from his belt and offered it to Cas. He took it and turned back to the Ruined. The Ruined straightened, scooting back to lean against the end of the small bed in the corner. One of his eyes was starting to swell shut, and he lifted his head to meet Cas’s gaze.
“What’s your name?” Cas asked.
The Ruined didn’t reply.
“I’m Casimir. Prince of Lera.” He waited for the Ruined to offer his name, but he remained silent. “How old are you?”
“A hundred and two.” The Ruined smirked. “I’ve learned how to live forever and keep my good looks.”
“Really?” Cas asked, feigning surprise. “My father would love to talk to you about that.”
A snort came from one of the guards behind him, and the Ruined stared at Cas as if he wasn’t sure if that was a joke.
“A name?” Cas asked again. “Just a first name, so I know what to call you.”
“You can call me Ruined,” he said, leaning his head against the bed. “I’m not ashamed of it.”
Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and the guard who’d left reappeared with a bucket of water, a clean cloth, bandages, and a small silver tin. The guard hesitated, like he didn’t want to enter the cell, and Galo held his hands out for the items.
“I’ll do it.” He grabbed everything from the guard and walked past Cas into the cell, placing the bucket and tin on the ground. He dipped the cloth in the water. “Hold out your hand.”
The Ruined hesitated, peering at his bloodied fingers.
“It’s going to hurt, but I’m not going to make it worse on purpose,” Galo said.
The Ruined slowly put his hand out in front of him. He winced as Galo began wiping it down.
“This is berol root,” Galo said as he scooped some of the black paste out of the tin with the cloth. “It will help the wound close without getting infected.” He gently applied it over the stump where the Ruined’s pinkie finger used to be.
“We wouldn’t want me getting an infection before you kill me,” the Ruined said through clenched teeth.
“If you tell my father what he needs to know, maybe we can come up with a way to spare your life,” Cas said.
The Ruined let out a hollow laugh. “Like keeping me prisoner for the rest of my life? No thank you.”
He wasn’t wrong, so Cas said nothing. His father would never just release one of the Ruined, even if he’d done nothing wrong.
He rubbed a hand across his forehead, the full weight of those words settling in. Even if he’d done nothing wrong.
Galo wrapped the Ruined’s hand in the bandage and stood, grabbing the remaining supplies. Cas stepped back and a guard closed the cell door.
“Two guards should stay down here with him,” Cas said. “He should have water and three meals a day.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” the guards murmured.
Cas looked at the Ruined to find him staring, his eyebrows drawn together.
“I’ll be down often to check on you,” Cas said. “We don’t mistreat our prisoners in Lera, Ruined or not.” He glanced over his shoulder at the guards. “Please remind the other guards of that.”
“I look forward to being treated well right up until you chop off my head, Casimir,” the Ruined said, bringing his knees close to his chest and throwing his good arm over them.
Cas wanted to ask what the Ruined’s life was like. Who he’d killed. If he’d kill everyone in the room, if given the chance. If he hated everyone who wasn’t Ruined, and if he’d always felt that way, or if Cas’s father had caused it.
But whatever he said to the Ruined right now was likely to get repeated all over the castle by the guards.
“People call me Cas,” he said. “And I’d rather not call you Ruined. I’d prefer to use your name.”
The Ruined’s eyes flashed with anger and a tiny hint of interest. He held Cas’s gaze almost to the point of discomfort, like he was testing the prince to see how much he really wanted to know.
“Damian,” the Ruined finally said. “My name’s Damian.”
THIRTEEN
EM FLEW OUT of her room, the door slamming closed behind her. A maid looked down the hallway, startled. Em rushed past her and to the stairs.