Gathering Darkness (Falling Kingdoms #3)(10)

“Go on, then,” the guard urged. “Whoever wins gets to eat today. Let’s see some blood.”

The other girl’s gaze snapped to Lysandra’s. Then, with a cry, she charged at her, clutching the knife.

Lysandra was hungry and weak, but she hadn’t lost her mind—not yet. She’d arrived here two days ago with three other rebels who’d survived the battle—Tarus, Cato, and Fabius.

She knew King Gaius had ordered them here to be publicly executed, to be made an example of. She didn’t expect to be pardoned for her crimes. And she didn’t expect anyone in shining armor to break in to rescue her.

But those had been her expectations her entire life. She was different from other girls who dreamed of strong husbands and a houseful of drooling babies. She’d been a warrior from the beginning. She would be a warrior till the end.

And that end was not going to be today.

She dodged the knife easily and shoved the girl away.

“What’s your name?” Lysandra asked.

“My name?” the girl said, her gaze narrowing. “Why?”

“I’m Lysandra. Lysandra Barbas.” Introductions could make friends of strangers, and this girl—she wasn’t her enemy. They were both prisoners here; they had common ground.

“I don’t care who you are.” The girl lacked skill but was determined in her attempts to stab Lysandra.

“Need a little help, rebel?” The guard opened the door and shoved another prisoner in. He was short and skinny and wore a fearful expression.

Before Lysandra had a chance to say anything, the unmarked girl attacked and cut Tarus’s arm.

Seeing the gash on his flesh was enough to incite Lysandra. She launched herself at the girl and punched her in the stomach, making her grunt with pain.

“Are you all right?” Lysandra barked at Tarus.

He clutched his injured arm. “Yeah. I think so. Be careful!”

The tip of the blade darted at Lysandra’s chest. She dodged it, and this time she punched the girl right in her face. Blood trickled from her nose.

“Stop it,” Lysandra hissed. “You’re better than this! Don’t give them the show they want. Don’t let them win!”

The girl’s eyes were red with tears of rage. “I haven’t eaten in days!”

“Take her down,” the guard snarled. “Kill her. I’ve put my silver on you, rebel. Don’t make me a loser.”

The girl continued to strike at them relentlessly until Lysandra finally knocked the blade out of her hand and grabbed it for herself. The girl fell hard to the ground and scrambled back into a corner, raising her hands to shield her face as Lysandra drew closer.

“Please! Please, no. Spare me. I’m sorry—I’m sorry!”

“Kill her!” the guard demanded.

Lysandra shot them a look of hatred. “No.”

“She would have killed you.”

“Perhaps. But she doesn’t deserve to die just for trying to survive another day in this cesspit.”

The guards stormed into the cell and disarmed Lysandra, then dragged her back to her original cell, throwing Tarus in with her.

“You can keep each other company while you wait for your turn to die.”

In the darkness, Lysandra pressed herself up against the wall with Tarus next to her. He began to sob softly; she put an arm around his shoulders to pull him closer.

“I know this is hard,” she whispered, “but I’ll get us out of here. I promise I will.”

“How?”

That was a very good question. “Working on it. Give me time.”

“If Jonas can find us, he’ll save us. I know it.”

“Jonas is dead.” The words tasted as bitter on her tongue as they felt in her heart, the cold, painful thought making her eyes sting with endless grief. “If he wasn’t killed in the battle, he’d have been captured just like us and we would’ve seen him or heard about it.”

Tarus’s eyes hardened. “I don’t believe it.”

“I don’t want to believe it either, but holding on to hope that he’s going to find us . . .” She let out a shaky sigh. She wouldn’t let herself believe in Jonas because she knew she couldn’t handle the disappointment if he didn’t show. No, she’d rely on herself only, just as she always had.

Silence fell upon them and remained until Gregor was finally brought back, staggering, into the cell. He fell to his knees and Lysandra rushed to his side, taking his face between her hands to make him look at her.

He was dazed, his face bruised and bloody.

Fury ripped through her at the sight of someone she loved so horribly abused.

“Damn it.” She tore a piece of cloth from her shirt and tried to clean his wounds. “Damn them! I’ll kill every last one of them!”

“It’s all right, little Lys. It’ll be over soon.”

Tears began to stream from her eyes and she angrily swiped them away. “Don’t say that! We’re getting out of here and we’ll leave this stinking place far behind us. We found each other again for a reason. We’re not going to die here. Just tell them what they want to hear so they’ll stop hurting you.”

“There aren’t enough truths in the world to get them to do that.”