Allied (Ruined #3)(38)

It became apparent a minute later that there were no more troops. Just these ten men and women. What did Aren and Em think they were going to do with ten Lera soldiers?

She frowned, and considered killing them all right now. That would certainly put a damper on Em’s plan.

But she didn’t know what that plan was. And she couldn’t prove that Em knew these Lera soldiers. It was only Aren who had talked to Galo.

She took a step back. No, it was better to let this play out. The Lera soldiers could follow them. Ten humans were no match for her, and when she killed them, it would need to be in front of the Ruined. They would need to see Em’s betrayal for themselves.

She walked back to Westhaven, occasionally breaking into a jog, and was gasping for breath when she arrived at her and Em’s house. Jacobo was still lurking. Em stepped out of the house as Olivia approached.

“I was looking for you,” Em said.

“Here I am.” She took in a breath through her nose and tried to appear calm. “I was getting my horse ready.”

“We’re still leaving this morning, then?” Em asked.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t we?” She stared Em down. Em acted like she was so much better than Olivia, but she had no problem looking her sister right in the eye and lying. Even their mother wouldn’t have done that, and she was the most vicious Ruined Olivia had ever known.

“Have you changed your mind?” Olivia asked. A tiny part of her, an ugly, weak part, hoped Em would say yes. There was still time to stop whatever plan she’d set in motion with Casimir.

“No,” Em said.

“Good.” Olivia turned on her heel. She couldn’t stand to look Em in the eyes anymore. “Then let’s go.”





SEVENTEEN


“GET UP.”

Iria rolled over in bed to look into the angry face of the guard above her. His blond mustache twitched.

“Now,” he barked.

She slowly sat up, scanning the room for the doctor. She’d been in the medical wing for days, and it wasn’t a surprise that her time was up. Still, part of her hoped that the doctor would jump in and say she wasn’t ready to be moved yet.

“Doctor cleared you for release back into the general population,” the guard said, dashing her hopes.

“You mean solitary.”

“I mean general population.” His lips twisted into a terrible smile and fear seized her chest.

She’d be attacked by the other prisoners. They knew that; it was why she’d been in solitary before. They must have found a way to convince the warden to lock her up with everyone else.

Her knees shook as she stood, and pain rippled through what was left of her foot. She leaned heavier on her good leg as she took a tentative step forward. The doctor appeared from behind a curtain. He looked her up and down.

“She should come every day to get those bandages changed,” the doctor said. He grabbed her shoes from the floor and held them out to her. “Just wear one on your good foot.” She obeyed, slipping her foot into the flimsy shoe and holding the other one in her hand.

“Fine.” The guard jerked his head, indicating for her to walk in front of him.

Iria took a few more steps forward, wincing as she did. She was limping, badly, and panic shot through her body. She couldn’t run. She’d barely be able to fight with a sword in this state—she’d stumble after the first attack. Of course, she’d never have access to a sword again, so maybe that didn’t matter.

She lowered her chin into her chest and frantically blinked back tears. Crying when she entered the general population would only make things worse. She had to at least pretend to be tough.

The guard unlocked the door leading to the prisoner cells, and she lifted her head as they walked through. The cells were lined up on either side of her on two levels, stretching out a good distance in front of her. They walked past about twenty cells. She kept her head up, but didn’t dare to glance to her sides.

The guard stopped. “Against the wall!” he yelled to the inmate inside.

Iria took in a deep breath as she looked up at her new cellmate. It was not good news.

The woman was older than Iria, probably in her thirties or forties, with dirty-blond hair and a body built for hard labor. Her expression mutated into disgust as she stared at Iria. They’d never met, but every prisoner must have known she’d show up here eventually.

She walked to the back wall and leaned against it as the guard opened the door. When Iria didn’t move, the guard grabbed her by the shoulder and shoved her inside. Pain splintered through her foot as she landed on it, and she pressed her lips together to keep from yelping in pain.

The door banged shut behind her.

Her new cellmate stared at her, arms crossed over her chest. The cell consisted of a bunk bed, the bottom one clearly in use, and a sink and a toilet in the left corner. It felt too small for one person, much less two.

“I’m Iria,” she said, just to prove she wasn’t scared. Her voice sounded too weak to be convincing.

The woman took a step forward. “Julia.”

Hope ticked in her chest. Maybe this woman wasn’t so bad after all. Not everyone was fiercely loyal to Olso—in fact, an imprisoned citizen might not like her home country much at all.

Julia grabbed her by the collar, extinguishing the tiny spark of hope. She yanked Iria’s face closer to hers. The fabric pulled tight across her neck, making it difficult to breathe.