Blade of Secrets (Bladesmith #1)(68)

Kellyn growls before kicking at the bars. Then he paces back and forth in our little ten-by-ten foot cell. There’s not so much as a window, and the air smells as though it’s been stuck down here for years.

“We might want to wait until Kymora arrives,” Petrik suggests. “Our best chance for escape may be when they try to move us.”

“When Kymora arrives, there will be no chance at all,” Kellyn says. “She’s the real power in Ghadra, not the royals. Because the kingdom isn’t united, she can do as she pleases, unchecked. She’s the most formidable swordswoman in the world. When she arrives, the game is done.”

“And if she gets her hands on the sword, no one will ever have the power to take it from her,” I say.

“So get up,” Kellyn snaps. “Don’t just sit there. We have to do something!”

“And what is she supposed to do?” Temra comes to my defense. “Smashing your big head against the bars might be worth a try.”

“There has to be something in here we can use,” Petrik says. “Look around.”

The cell isn’t large, but when my hand comes into contact with something smooth on the ground, I raise it close to my eyes for inspection.

Then I shriek and jump backward.

“What is it?” Temra asks, coming to my aid.

“A bone!” I say.

“Looks like a human femur,” Petrik says after an emotionless examination.

“Charming. Someone died in this cell. And I thought things couldn’t get worse,” Kellyn says.

“At least they’re not recently dead,” Petrik says. “Smells and all that.”

“Give me that thing.” Kellyn grasps the femur, touching it with his bare hand, as though it were a flower or sword or something else distinctly not human remains, and paces over to the cell bars. He shoves the long bone between two of them and tries to pry them apart.

There’s a snap, but it isn’t from the bars.

Kellyn grunts in frustration and shakes the bars again for good measure.

Petrik retrieves one of the broken ends of the bone and tries to fit it into the opening of the lock on the opposite side of the door.

“What are you doing?” Temra asks.

“Seeing if we can pick the lock.”

“Do you know how to pick a lock?”

“No,” he mumbles.

Temra sits next to me on the cold floor and rests her elbows on her knees.

“Could we trick the guards somehow?” Petrik asks.

“Hey, guard! Guard!” Kellyn starts shouting, but after a minute, not a soul surfaces. “That would be a no.”

“So that’s it.” Petrik joins us on the ground.

Kellyn continues pacing, clearly unable to give up.

Hours trickle by at an agonizing pace, and we start to shiver from the chill. Kellyn keeps pacing and pacing; he’s worked himself into a sweat. He eventually strides up to the bars and yanks at them for all he’s worth.

“Will you sit down? Even you aren’t strong enough to move steel,” Petrik says.

“That’s iron,” I tell him automatically.

“That’s helpful,” Kellyn says sarcastically to me before rounding on Petrik. “I don’t see you coming up with any ideas. Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one? ‘I’m a renowned scholar from the Great Library,’” Kellyn says in a mimicry of Petrik’s voice. “‘I’m an expert. Look at the length of my robes.’”

Petrik scoffs at him. “I do not sound like that. And excuse me for not reading up more on instances of prison breaks!”

“What good are you? Why are you even here?”

Temra leaves me on the floor to stand between the two men. “Back off,” she says to Kellyn. “Petrik has been invaluable on this journey. He’s saved us almost as often as you have, and he’s a whole lot less volatile. So why don’t you check your temper and stop pretending like you’re more upset that we’re imprisoned rather than that the money is gone.”

Kellyn gives Temra the nastiest look I’ve seen from him yet. “I don’t like small spaces.” He turns his back to us in an opposite corner.

Ah, so he does have an irrational fear, but now is certainly not the time to poke at the bear.

I rub my hands over my arms in the quiet that ensues. From the other side of the cell, I can feel Secret Eater. The secrets it holds will forever be a part of it, and mine will always call out to me.

The blasted sword has landed me in a prison cell. I’m unsure if this is a new low or my last low. Because I’m quite certain we’re not getting out of this cell until someone uses the key the captain took with him.

I stare at those iron bars, and the irony hits me. I can magic iron, and yet I’m stuck behind it. Helpless without my forge or tools. Worthless by myself.

Iron needs heat to bend to my will.

I roll up on my feet suddenly, and Temra protests, nearly falling from where she’d been leaning against me. I don’t apologize. I’m too caught up in my foolhardy thoughts.

When I press my forehead to the bars, I can just see the faint pulsing lights in the room. One source from each side of the cell.

Torches on the walls, if I’m not mistaken.

I move to the far end of the cell, thrust my arm through the bars, and reach for the sconce. I can just barely touch the tip of the torch with a fingernail.