“If you catch any flack for this,” Tierri said, “I'm guessing you'll be down to two fingers.”
Old Sim chuckled, snatching the roll from Tierri's hand, and slammed the gate behind them with a loud, ominous bang.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Rayne
If it was possible, the air on this side of the tunnel was even worse. There was the lingering smell of rot and decay. Breathing through her mouth, she followed Tierri to the middle of the three tunnels that led off of the main room.
“This way?” he asked, plucking a torch from a bracket and lighting it with a flick of his wrist.
“That way,” Old Sim confirmed. “Call if she slits your throat.” His hoarse laugh followed them down the dark corridor.
Firelight danced on the stone walls, and they passed three empty cells. She found herself wanting to ask him questions, how he knew what she was doing, how the knife had ended up in Wido's hands. Why he was helping her. But beyond even all that, she wanted to know about him. She wanted to know how he knew the jailer and why the jailer called him King. She wanted to know what it felt like to control fire when she couldn't even control her own feelings. Luckily, she didn't get to say anything because they rounded a dark corner and came up against floor-to-ceiling iron bars.
“Here we are,” Tierri said, knocking a fist against one of the bars. The sound echoed too loud in the small space, followed by the unmistakable scratching of small rat claws on stone as the rodents retreated.
Rayne took a tentative step forward and peered into the darkness. Rushes were spread thinly on the stone floor, and a wooden bowl lay discarded and empty near the barred door. Finally, a mound of rags moved. It was just a small shrug but it drew her eye. She motioned for Tierri to pass her the torch, and when he did she maneuvered it so that the firelight fell across the figure.
She was met with a face as black as the shadows around them, and dark eyes that narrowed as the prisoner hissed at her, more animal than human. Rayne took an automatic step back but then checked herself.
“Is it you?” she asked the prisoner.
“Rayne?”
Relief seized her limbs and she nearly stumbled. Tierri retrieved the torch and Rayne fell to her knees as Imeyna crawled toward her. Their hands met on the iron bars.
“I did not think to see you again,” Imeyna said, disbelieving laughter evident in her voice. One of her eyes was swollen shut, and there was a gap where a tooth used to be in the front of her mouth. She also braced one of her arms gingerly to her chest, as if it were sprained or maybe even broken.
“Imeyna,” Rayne said, nearly crying with relief. “I need you. I can't— I don't know—”
“Hush,” Imeyna said, but it wasn't a gentle, soothing sound. Instead, her eyes were focused past Rayne, on the general who stood watching them.
Rayne glanced over her shoulder at him, too, trying to see what Imeyna saw. He had the stiff military posture, his stern face flickering in sharp shadows cast by the dancing torchlight. But he was more than those things. He was bound and banded; he was a victim of her father as much as any of them. She was sure that he had helped Wido. And perhaps the fire he conjured in Edlyn's room had been meant to protect her, not fight her. Maybe, maybe. Did she hang her hopes on a maybe? She remembered that Wido hadn't wanted to risk it, but she wasn't Wido.
“I trust him,” Rayne said, turning back to Imeyna but not before she saw the spark of surprise on Tierri's usually stoic features. “Imeyna, I don't think I can do it. I can't do it, and Wido’s going to kill me—”
“Don't talk like that,” Imeyna scolded her. “The princess I know does not give up.”
Who was the princess that Imeyna knew? Rayne, headstrong and foolish, had run away from Dusk with a half-baked plan to find someone who would help her teach her father the error of his ways. She had molded herself to fit the image of the person she thought the Knights wanted her to be—confident, brave, unfeeling. And in exchange, they would give her what she needed—the tools to destroy her father. But now, facing her sister and her father, she was insecure and uncertain. Was she really expected to go head to head with her sister? With her father and Danyll? She wanted someone to tell her what to do.
Imeyna reached her long fingers through the iron bars and grasped Rayne's hand. “You have to find a way,” she said. “This cannot all be for nothing.”
There was something in her tone, a fierce anger that made Imeyna grind her teeth together. “Imeyna, where is Tamsin?” Rayne asked, afraid of the answer.
Imeyna lowered her eyes and that was all the confirmation Rayne needed. Sweet Tamsin who couldn't even swing a sword. Who had stitched Rayne's pants when she wore holes in the knees, who had comforted her at night when nightmares ripped her from sleep. Tamsin, who was the only one who could coax a smile out of Imeyna.
“How?” Rayne asked. She had to know.
Imeyna's eyes flickered back to Tierri. “She was tending to one of our wounded,” Imeyna said, “when a Crow cut her down from behind. An unarmed woman. An innocent.”
Rayne was crying now. She freed her hand from Imeyna's grip to swipe at her leaking eyes. “I can't do it. Even knowing that, I can't. I looked her in the face and I— I couldn't—”
“Knives and swords are not the only weapons,” Imeyna said. “Be creative. Use what you know.”
“Ladies,” Tierri said, appearing right beside her. He smelled like warm bread and leather, even in the cold dungeon. “We have to go before the changing of the guards. I don't want to get Old Sim caught if the new guard comes to check on him.”
“But—” She still didn't know what to do. She wanted Imeyna to stop speaking in riddles and to just tell her.
“Do you remember the sorrow tree?” Imeyna asked, not letting go of Rayne's hand. This close, her stale breath wafted over Rayne, bringing tears to her eyes. “Do you remember what Giles told us about it?”
“No,” Rayne said, her mind racing. She knew that in the Lost Fields, villages were built around the towering trees. When her ancestor had founded Casuin, he had disregarded the old traditions and most of the sorrow trees were chopped down, used for lumber, but some still grew, especially in Shade where they clung to some of the old ways. But what could Giles—the alchemist’s son—have told them that would help her? Imeyna obviously didn't want to say, perhaps not entirely convinced of Tierri's trustworthiness.
“We have to go,” Tierri interrupted, not giving her the chance to ask any more questions. Before she could object, he pulled another wrapped bundle from his pocket and offered it to Imeyna.
“How did you do that?” Rayne asked, watching Imeyna unwrap the linen cloth to reveal not only a roll of bread but also a stick of dried meat and a hunk of cheese.