The Traitor Prince (Ravenspire #3)

There was a long moment of silence, and Sajda hardly dared to breathe in case she gave herself away.

Finally, the warden said, “I can’t just kill a competitor who is a crowd favorite. Not without raising a lot of questions with both my prisoners and the aristocrats. That’s why I didn’t kill him in the first place. The last thing we need are rumors about the boy with the resemblance to royalty who died mysteriously in Maqbara.”

“Then you shouldn’t have let him become a crowd favorite!”

“I was away when he arrived, and I didn’t even know he was here until he was already in a competition and word was already spreading. You should’ve made sure he never made it to Maqbara.”

“You bear plenty of blame for that as well. He must be killed. Tonight. The king’s health has improved lately, and it’s risky to let him see Javan. I’ll dose him with saffeyena to confuse him, but I don’t want to take chances. Kill Javan. We’ll claim it was a jealous prisoner and punish one of them accordingly.”

“If the prisoners think they aren’t safe in their cells when they’re following all of the rules, I could have a riot on my hands.”

“Then you shift into a dragon and you kill anyone who riots. That will quell any dissent immediately. In fact, that’s the best solution to all of this. Shift, burn Javan, and claim you’d discovered he was part of a plot against the crown. I’ll support your claims. It will be simple.”

“Easy for you to say when you get all the benefit and take none of the risk,” she answered.

“Need I remind you that Fariq gave you an incredible amount of leeway in how you run your prison and how you gain your prisoners. I’m sure an investigation would uncover quite a number of inmates who aren’t actually guilty of their crimes but whose room and board the city’s taxes have been generously paying. And it would reveal that you’re baking the corpses of the losers along with the destroyed beasts and using that to feed your prisoners so you can pocket the coin we send for their upkeep. As the new king, I can either continue to look the other way as Fariq did, or I can ruin you. Choose wisely.”

In the silence that followed, Sajda quietly set the battle-axes down and pressed her hands to the stone floor. Her magic stung her palms as it drank in the heart of the stone, sheathing her in cold, immovable purpose.

“Consider it done,” the warden said. “It’s nearly twelfth bell. I’ll burn him in his bed once the bars go down. There’s no escaping from that.”

The stone skin Sajda wore over her heart shuddered once at the thought of Javan dying in a stream of dragon fire, and then she rose to her feet, glaring at the door while she waited for the warden and the impostor to leave.

The moment the corridor was empty, she raced down its length and hurtled into the first stairway as the chain and pulley system shuddered into life.

If she didn’t get there in time, Javan would be locked in his cell, and she wouldn’t be able to get him out before the warden arrived.

She took the stairs three at once, bursting onto the next level and then sprinting up again. The iron bars rattled as they began descending from the ceiling.

Why had she put him on the fifteenth level?

Her breath sobbed in and out of her lungs, as she passed level three. Level four. Crashed into someone on level five’s stairwell and never looked back.

Six.

The bars were a third of the way down now.

She reached for her magic. Let it coil around her muscles and give her power.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

The bars were halfway down. It didn’t matter if anyone saw her run with inhuman speed. It didn’t matter if she was revealed to be a dark elf.

All that mattered was that Javan, the boy who made her laugh and think and feel, survived.

Slamming her hands into the walls on either side of the stairs that led from level ten to eleven, she sent her magic shuddering into the wall and felt it give. Digging her hands into the stone, she created a new handhold on each side and flung herself to the top of the stairs in one leap.

Two thirds of the way up.

Twelve.

Thirteen.

Another handhold. Another leap.

She was almost there, but the bars were slowing. How much space would he need to get out? Was it already too late?

One more giant leap and she skidded onto level fifteen and bounced off the wall as she turned toward Javan’s cell.

“Javan!” Her voice echoed throughout the upper levels of the prison, but she didn’t care.

She ran, feet skimming the stone, as the door creaked toward its final stop.

He met her at the door as she flung herself between the bars and the floor, grabbed the iron railing, and locked her arms, refusing to let it fall.

The metal screeched, and she sobbed out a little prayer that she could hold it long enough. The iron bit into her skin, pain screaming up her arms.

“What are you doing?” There was a wild light of fear on his face. “You’re going to be crushed. Move!”

He grabbed the bars and pulled, muscles straining as the door struggled to complete its journey.

“She’s coming to kill you. Burn you alive. Slide under. Hurry!”

He kept his arms on the bars as he lay down on the floor beside her. “You slide out first. Then me.”

“No. I can hold this.”

“Sajda—”

She locked her eyes on his. “Trust me. I’m stronger than you can possibly imagine. Get out now before she arrives and takes your choice away.”

There was a wealth of unsaid things in his expression, but he simply scooted down, keeping his hands on the bars to help with the weight, and then slid under. The second he was clear, she started to follow, and the door dropped a handspan.

“No!” he shouted, and lunged for the rail above her. Wrapping both arms around it, he pulled upward with all his might as she slowly wiggled free, trying to leverage as much pressure against the railing as she could while still getting clear of it.

“Clear,” she said, and they let go.

The door slammed into the stone floor with a jarring thud, and from a distance, they heard the shush of leathery wings beating the air.

“She’s coming,” Sajda said, wrapping her hand around Javan’s. “The closet. Quickly!”

They ran for the far end of the corridor. For the abandoned supply closet with its broken door. Sajda pulled the door open, practically shoved Javan inside, and then softly closed the door behind them. Seconds later, the dragon cleared the level, hovered in front of Javan’s cell, and sent a steady stream of fire where moments ago, the prince of Akram had been standing.

“She might find us in here,” Javan breathed.

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