There’s a loud groan followed by sizzling pops, and the second floor falls into my living room. I stagger back. “Goddess—” I scream and kick the doorframe.
She’s safe, I tell myself. Emily got her out and on to a Cury-craft quickly after the news hit—and she’s safe. She’s safe. Only my thudding heart can’t bear to leave my home behind without knowing for sure.
Prince Caben rests his hand on my shoulder and I drop my head. “Come on, protector. There’s nothing you can—”
I look up as his words choke off and draw my sword too late.
Something knocks the back of my head.
Darkness covers me.
Blinking my eyes open, I reach up and palm the second lump I received to the back of my head today and groan.
A thick chain drags across my body, and I freeze. Its weight presses down on me, and I sit up and lift my shackled wrists, then glance down the long line of others hooked to the chain. Three Otherworlders stand before me, swords aimed at a woman with blond hair clutching her tunic closed.
“Sit down,” one of them orders her. “Put out your hands.” The Otherworlder clanks the cuffs together, eagerly awaiting the woman to stretch out her arms.
When she does—reluctantly—her tunic drops to her waist and she shivers. The night air in Cavan is disgustingly humid, and I know she’s not cold but terrified. And embarrassed. I reach for my sword to plant it into his disrespectful abdomen, but it’s not there.
Of course.
I’ve never solitarily prayed to the goddess of war, but I now search my muddled mind for the right words to whisper to Rae.
Cavan is a distant glow against the skyline, lit up and flickering as the fires still burn. There’s a muted echo from war machines and destruction, but from here, it feels as if the battle is dying down.
I pray that General Corvin got his convoys out safely. I pray that my mother is with them. I pray that the Council is halfway to Laryn with Empress Iana by now—that they are already planning retaliation strategies to retrieve the relic. My heart aches for them all. For us.
A tremor of fear quakes me.
The prince?
Searching the line of prisoners, I spot his now blood-stained and tattered cream uniform. He’s five people down from me and unconscious. I say a quick thank you to Alyah for at least sparing his life, then look down at my binds, trying to reason a way out of this.
The chains are rusted and old, and possibly weakened. I pull on the cuff, but am yanked to my feet before I can test its strength. An Otherworlder with dreads reaching past his elbows sneers and tugs the chain, forcing me to turn and face the front of the line.
“Move, above-grounder scum!” the Otherworlder who cuffed the woman orders. He pokes the tip of his sword into her side, and with trembling hands, she gathers up her tunic, pulling it onto her shoulders.
The chain pulls taut and I’m forced to walk, dragging my boots through the loose sand. I glance behind me, knowing it’s only a matter of seconds before Prince Caben gets a brutal awakening.
The line halts, and an Otherworlder with silver rings decorating his eyebrows snarls at the prince. “Wake up, you filthy leech.” He kicks the side of his rib cage. Shaking his head, the dust clouding around him, Prince Caben pushes himself up onto his knees. He searches his surroundings and his eyes meet mine. I lift my brows, hoping he catches my signal for him to hold his tongue and do as he’s commanded.
His features reflect all the anger and embarrassment I’m feeling in this moment, and I know he’s battling his princely pride. But if the Otherworlders discover he’s the last heir to the Perinyian kingdom . . . Well, I’m unsure if they’d strike him down immediately or cart him off to be tortured. But it’s not in his favor to throw a royal tantrum.
Getting my unspoken message, he slowly rises, brushing the dirt from his tunic and pants. Panicked, I look at his hand—and the silver ring that carries his royal crest is missing. He isn’t as dimwitted as I thought. Releasing a heavy breath, I thank the goddesses that at some point, the price disposed of it.
The line moves forward again, and I look ahead. The blond woman before me tugs on her tunic, trying to keep it up. I press my lips together and tear a pleat from the bottom of my uniform. I rest my hand on her shoulder gently so I don’t startle her, then proceed to tie the split ends of her tunic together.
When I’m done, she turns her head and gives me a broken smile before continuing to lead our chained convoy through the desolate desert plain.
One of the Otherworlders’ war machines idles ahead of us. It’s larger than the ones I watched decimate our city, and I assume is being used to transport their slaves. To where, I’m not sure. But if I’m to break away, now would be the time to attempt it.
Gripping the chain in one hand to keep it from pulling the other captives and alerting the Otherworlders, I twist my wrist back and forth. The rusted metal cuts into my skin, and I bite down on my bottom lip. Damn. No slipping free, and the cuff isn’t giving—not without calling the mercury to the surface.
And that won’t do anything but cause unwanted attention and get me killed.
No. I’ll have to wait for an opportune moment. I’ll also have to figure out a way to free the prince, too. I can’t leave him behind. I disobeyed orders and botched my mission when I went after my mother. Hell, I botched it when I chose to go back to the palace instead of getting Prince Caben out of the city. Now the last heir to one of the Three Realms is in the hands of the enemy.
If I ever needed the goddesses’ mercy, it’s now.