The despair that had briefly lifted at Sajda’s assistance settled heavily on Javan’s shoulders once more.
He had no allies beyond a sweet old man and a girl who barely tolerated his presence and who had duties that didn’t include constantly watching over Javan. He’d made powerful enemies, both inside and outside the prison. He’d put up enough tournament points to get a foot in the door, but he was nowhere close to being in a strong position to earn a place in the final round. His back was against the wall, and his survival depended on coming up with a better strategy than just fighting hard enough to win the combat rounds.
He needed help, and there was only one person he could ask.
As Sajda assisted him up the last flight of stairs, twelfth bell began tolling, thick and mournful. The iron bars shuddered and began their slow journey toward the floor.
“Move,” Sajda snapped as they reached the corridor.
He made himself walk faster, and ducked beneath the bars of his cell as they reached the halfway point between the ceiling and the floor. The dying rays of the sun lingered over Sajda’s skin, a rosy glow at odds with the glare she was aiming his way.
“There. Now you’ll at least live to see the morning.” She turned to walk away as a guard cleared the stairwell and began to take roll, moving from one cell to another, checking to see that each prisoner was inside, his job made easier by the fact that so many cells on the fifteenth level were currently empty.
“Wait!” Javan called, his stomach in knots as she paused and gave him a raised eyebrow. He didn’t know how to convince her. He had no leverage, no wealth, and no power. Nothing to offer.
He also had nothing to lose.
She’d bought him some time. If he didn’t find a different strategy, this night could be his last.
Meeting her eyes, he said quietly, “I need your help.”
NINETEEN
THE GUARD ASSIGNED to Javan’s side of the fifteenth level approached Javan’s cell and gave Sajda a quizzical glance. “You’re out a bit late, aren’t you?”
“Just making sure all the prisoners who decided to leave the infirmary made it safely to their cells,” she said, her voice devoid of all emotion. “The warden is in one of her moods.”
The guard’s jaw tightened, and he quickly ticked Javan’s name off the list he held in his hands. “Better get yourself to your own room, then.”
Sajda nodded. “I will.”
The guard hurried on, making short work of his checklist, and Javan wrapped his hands around the iron bars of his cell before Sajda could leave.
“Please,” he said softly. “I really need your help.”
“I just helped you. And since you ignored my advice earlier and made a true enemy of Hashim, I don’t see why I even felt compelled to stay late working on the weapons so I could keep an eye on the infirmary.”
He studied the irritation on her face and took a gamble. “It’s because Tarek asked you to, isn’t it?”
“He’s sentimental. You protected him, and now he feels loyal to you, even though you’ve proven to be completely foolish.”
“And you feel loyal to him, so here you are.” He offered her a smile, but her expression only sharpened. “I think maybe we got off to a bad start. I’d like to be friends.”
“I don’t have friends.” Her voice was flat.
“You have Tarek.”
“That happened by accident.”
He gave her his best attempt at the kind of charming smile that came so easily to Kellan. “We can pretend this happened by accident too.”
“No.” Her tone was dismissive as she started to turn away. “And stop smiling like that. It’s annoying.”
“Wait! Please.” He softened his voice as she gave him an icy glare. “It’s terribly rude of me to push after you’ve already said no. I realize that, and if you say no again, I promise this is the last you’ll hear of it.” Though Yl’ Haliq knew he couldn’t think of a way to survive Maqbara without her.
She opened her mouth, and he raised his hands in the air, palms out in a gesture of surrender. Of desperation.
“Please. Hear me out. That’s all I ask.”
She stared him down in silence as the rosy glow of the dying sun dimmed into the purple gray of twilight. Finally, she jerked her chin up a notch. He took that as permission to keep talking.
“I want to trust you with the whole truth,” he said.
She rolled her eyes. “The whole truth about what?”
“About me. I have to get out of Maqbara.” He fought to sound calm. To keep his voice quiet so that none of the other prisoners could overhear. “My father’s life depends on it. Akram itself depends on it.”
“Well, you lasted longer than most, I’ll give you that.” She sounded dismissive. “Most start begging for a way out within hours. And I’ve yet to hear such dramatic stakes. The fate of Akram itself depends on your release. You have to know how ridiculous that sounds.”
He adjusted his position and winced as pain shot across his back. “If you think that sounds ridiculous, then you’re really going to have trouble with the next part.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and waited.
His voice was a faint breath of sound as he said, “I’m Prince Javan of the house of Kadar, heir to the crown of fire.”
The words hung in the air between them, and he couldn’t read her expression. He tapped his fingers against the iron bars and willed the anxious energy churning through him to subside. He’d told her the truth. If she didn’t believe him, or if she used it against him, he was out of options.
When the silence became more than he could bear, he said, “An impostor who resembles me tried to have me killed. There was a dragon and then assassins and all my belongings were stolen, and the impostor returned to Makan Almalik before I could get here, and my uncle betrayed me and said I wasn’t Javan, but I am.” He drew in a shaky breath and met her skeptical gaze. “I am. My father hasn’t seen me in ten years, so he doesn’t realize the boy in the palace isn’t me. Or maybe he does, and they’re going to kill him. Get him out of the way so the false prince can rule Akram with dishonor, violence, and greed. I have to get out of here so I can stop it.”
One slim brow climbed toward her hairline. “Right. Because you’re the real prince.”
“Yes. You don’t have to believe me. I know it sounds impossible. But—”
“Escape is impossible. You belong to the warden now.”
“I belong to Yl’ Haliq. I belong to Akram. And I can’t stay here.” He leaned closer to the bars, took one look at her expression, and quickly straightened his spine. “It doesn’t matter to you what my reasons are. All that matters is that I need a way out, and you know this prison better than anyone else I’ve met. Plus no one else is interested in talking to me in case they anger Hashim.”
Her lip curled in scorn. “Is this the part where you try to bribe me?”
“This is the part where I offer to pay for your services.”
She laughed, but there was no mirth in it. Sweeping her gaze over his prison clothing, she said, “With what? You’re no better than any of the other debtors who get tossed in Maqbara and forgotten about.”