Rise of Fire (Reign of Shadows #2)(62)

Chasan propped a shoulder against the bars, his head angling to the side. There was a stillness about him that hinted toward violence held barely in check. “I’m not much in the mood to delight in anything.”

“Ah, that’s right. Your father betrayed you? Didn’t he?” I flexed my fingers around my knee. “Can’t say I don’t know how that feels. Pull up a cell. We can commiserate.”

“He’s going to make you wish for death, you know.” His voice rang flatly, as if he were remarking on the weather. “He’ll keep you alive for weeks, months, maybe longer. Starve you. Torture you. Make you play for him in his pits. If you sicken, he’ll nurse you along just enough to keep you alive.”

I nodded once, envisioning the scene well. I knew men like Tebald. My own father was of the same ilk. It was Chasan I wasn’t certain about. Who he was . . . what he was. What he wanted here. With me. I couldn’t say. I didn’t have a read on him.

Chasan leaned in, closing his fingers around the bar. “You say the word, and I’ll end it for you.”

I stared at his shadowed features. “Are you offering to kill me? How generous of you.”

“It’d be a favor.”

I chuckled. “That right? Because we’ve been such good friends.”

“Just say the word at any time. I’ll see it’s done. I don’t enjoy torturing people. This world is ugly enough.”

Silence fell between us, crackling with tension. This world was ugly, but it wasn’t hopeless. I wasn’t giving up yet. People clung to the belief that the eclipse would end because according to legend it had happened before. It had ended before. Mankind had survived it and would again. Why couldn’t those survivors be Luna and me?

“You really want to do me a favor?” I asked. “You could let me out of this cell. Let me take Luna and go.”

It was his turn to laugh. I watched him through the bars as he shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

“Right.” I clenched my teeth. “Your favors only extend so far. What about Luna? How are you going to help her?” I knew he wanted to. I just had to persuade him that he could.

Chasan looked away, staring at some point in the darkness. “I can’t go against my father.”

“Your feelings for her were real,” I continued. “They are real. You can’t fool me. You liked her. You still do. You thought the two of you could have been good together. Maybe even happy? You believed that.” I shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe that could have happened someday . . . but your father killed that possibility. Didn’t he?”

Maybe, years from now, she would forget me. Or at least look back on me, on us, as something that existed in a dream. A whim of youth when we came together and helped keep each other going. As bitter as that was to swallow, it was better than envisioning her with Tebald. I could see her with Chasan, standing in sunlight, surrounded by children.

I could face the pit. I could die with that image burning in my mind and be content.

Chasan shook his head. “I don’t know—”

“You’ll let your father have her? He’ll break her.” My voice grew thick as I envisioned this. “Bit by bit, he will destroy all that she is until there’s nothing left of her.” Chasan sighed, and I took that sound as encouragement to keep talking. I let go of my knee and leaned forward. “If you don’t want to free me, then just let her go. She can survive on her own out there.” I gestured. “You just have to make it so that she can slip out of the castle.”

Chasan’s gaze shot back to mine. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is. It is that simple. Give her a chance. You know you want to.”

Chasan let go of the bars and stepped back as if needing distance from me and all that I was asking him to do. “Offer still stands. Let me know if you want me to spare you.” Turning, he walked away stiffly, disappearing into the darkness, leaving me to my cold cell.

I sat there alone, stewing in my thoughts, wondering at what point any of this could have been avoided. It all seemed so inevitable. I had come full circle.

Years ago, I had sat in a cell, helpless as my father took Bethan’s life. It felt like I was living through the same nightmare again. Only this time it wasn’t Bethan. It was Luna.

The pain, the fear . . . it was different. Worse.

A pair of guards came by. Unlocking my cell door, they entered the dank space and tossed in a bucket of soupy slop. It tipped over, the swill spilling onto the floor.

“Eat up, prince. You’ll need your strength when it comes time for your turn in the pit.” The guard laughed and kicked me savagely, for the sheer pleasure of it. Grabbing the bucket, I flung it at him, spraying soup through the air. The bucket knocked him in the face, sending him crashing to the ground with a cry.

I sprang to my feet and launched myself at the other guard, beyond rage. I couldn’t help Luna. Maybe I couldn’t even help myself. Perhaps this was really it—the end—with me rotting in this dungeon, emerging only when it was time to fight dwellers for the amusement of Tebald and his nobles.

But I could do this. In this moment, I could inflict pain.

I pummeled at him, swinging my fists, bone striking bone, skin breaking, warm blood flowing. Mine. His. It didn’t matter. It was release.