Master of Iron (Bladesmith #2)(17)

“You mean to break us out of jail? There are no torches within reach. I checked. And even if there were, that door is mostly made of wood. The walls consist of stone. If we get out of this room, it won’t be by your magic.”

I want to cry. I wipe at my eyes before I remember my hands are still covered in blood. Now it’s on my face, and I just want to be clean, and I don’t want to hurt people anymore.

Why can’t everyone just leave me in peace? Temra and I mind our own business. We didn’t ask for any of this. I wanted to make the world a safer place with my weapons. Temra wants to keep people safe as a soldier. If she’s dead—

I can’t think like that.

When the night grows colder and I start shivering, I don’t let Kellyn share his warmth. I don’t want it. I want to be miserable. It somehow makes me feel better inside.

I can’t fall asleep because I’m so cold. But Kellyn’s snores eventually fill the room.

My teeth begin to chatter. Still I don’t move. If I’m going to die in here, I’ll do it without losing my dignity.

I think I might have started to nod off when the door opens. A guard enters holding a ring of keys, and Kellyn bolts to his feet. They don’t need to use any force to get us from the cell or through a series of locked doors until we finally come up out of the dungeons, where there is still warmth in the world. Too much of it, in fact.

The palace is quiet. I don’t hear courtiers laughing or music playing. All is still, and that somehow makes everything worse.

We’re led into a large throne room, which is the only place in the castle I’ve seen so far with any sort of decoration. Ravis, the eldest of Petrik’s siblings, sits atop the mighty chair. A spearpoint juts out on either side of the back of the chair, the shafts leading down to the rear feet of the opulent piece. The armrests shape out into giant cat claws, along with the front feet.

The prince wears a loose scarlet surcoat. The sleeves reach past his wrists, and the hem brushes his ankles. His feet are in jewel-studded sandals, and each of his fingers is gripped by a sparkling ring. The crown on his head is massive, each spire coming to a deadly point. At the base of the six spires are six jewels: red, blue, green, yellow, orange, and purple in color.

He looks bored.

“Who are you, and what have you done with my healer?” the prince asks. He hasn’t even looked at us yet. He’s staring at the long dagger gripped in his right hand instead.

Neither Kellyn nor I answer.

“Skiro has taken her back, hasn’t he?” Ravis asks, undeterred by our silence. “Who would have thought he had the guts? Or the manpower. No matter.” Ravis flicks his wrist, spinning the long blade in a wide arc repeatedly. “I beheaded the last fools who attempted to steal Serutha from me. What should I do to the fools who succeeded?”

My voice is so far from me, I don’t think I could find it if I tried. I can barely breathe for the fear pounding through me with each beat of my heart.

“Send us to get her back for you,” Kellyn says.

A flare of panic washes over me at the words. Just what is Kellyn playing at?

Ravis begins laughing. He sits up straighter in his chair, finally looks down at us. “Why would I do that?”

“We’re mercenaries,” Kellyn says. “Your brother paid us to retrieve the healer. Offer us a bigger sum, and we’ll get her back for you.”

Ravis huffs before focusing on twirling his overly long dagger once more. “Tell me about how you came to be here and how Serutha disappeared so quickly. What new magic has my brother discovered?”

“I’m not sure,” Kellyn says. “All I know is we stepped through a portrait of you and we were suddenly here.”

“Hmm. A painter, is it? Well, I shall have to locate them when I storm the gates to retrieve Serutha.”

Kellyn thinks quickly. “Why do yourself what you could have us do?”

“Because I’m traveling to Skiro’s pathetic territory anyway, and I have no patience for liars. Strax, test my dagger’s sharpness for me, will you? The girl first, I think.”

A guard standing several feet behind the prince steps forward.

“We have not lied, Prince. Let us do your bidding. Spare our lives, and we will get her back for you,” Kellyn says.

“Liars claiming not to be liars. Must be a Tuesday.” Ravis sighs. “Tell me, why would a mercenary destroy the very portrait which could have taken her home? What mercenary doesn’t save her own skin?”

Ravis points his dagger right at me.

I look away. I still can’t find my words. All I wanted was to get Kellyn out of here, but there is nothing I can do. There is nothing either of us can do. We’re surrounded by guards. Our weapons are nowhere to be seen. There’s an entire castle’s worth of men and women between us and the exit. Never mind a whole territory to traverse before we can get back to Skiro.

“One with a good heart,” Kellyn whispers too quietly for Ravis to hear.

“Strax,” Ravis drones, and he thrusts his dagger into the hands of his guard.

Who then approaches me.

A strange calmness settles over me, and I feel suddenly as though I’m not actually in the room but watching this scene from afar. Is that what happens when you know your death is coming?

“No, please, Prince. You don’t need to do this. I’m the mastermind behind everything. Let her go.” Kellyn’s words don’t do anything to sway Ravis. He turns sideways in his chair, throws his legs atop one of the cat-claw armrests. Then his eyes turn on me, waiting to watch his man end me.