by Cayla Keenan
Jayin surged forward as much as her restraints would allow, snagging the scarecrow’s sleeve before he could scurry out of the way. He froze, a mouse caught in the claws of a hawk.
“Careful. I know your face now.”
There was a beat of heavy silence, and then the sound of the dungeon door slamming as the scarecrow fled. No doubt he thought himself lucky, escaping a brush with death at the hands of the rabid witch.
Idiot.
She had no interest in killing a man so scared he couldn’t look her in the eye. She was, however, interested in the pins holding his ratty coat together. Jayin rolled the stolen needle around in her hands, feeling better now that she had some semblance of a weapon.
Finally, when her internal clock told her that the moon was high in the sky, Jayin wiggled the pin from under her hand and went to work on the cuff binding her to the wall. It took some doing but eventually the clasp sprung free.
Thank the stars, Jayin thought, rubbing some feeling back into her wrist. The room spun as she sat up too quickly. Jayin gritted her teeth, fighting through vertigo that willed her to lie back down again. She didn’t have time for fainting like a damsel. Her odds of a successful escape were slim as it was, and dwindling with every wasted second.
The last thing was the collar. The lock that kept it in place was even easier to pick than the cuff and with a soft click, it popped open. Jayin tore the leather away from her throat and tossed it away, thankful to be rid of the wretched thing.
Free of the collar, magic sparked in her veins, familiar and with none of the violence from the docks. Snatching a scalpel from where the scarecrow dropped it, Jayin gathered her magic to herself and faded from view.
Inhaling deeply to steady her heart, Jayin crept through the stone halls, her footsteps hardly making a sound. That she’d been left unguarded was not lost on her. It smelled like a trap, but Jayin wasn’t willing to wait around.
It felt like she’d been moving through the compound for hours when she finally sensed the sky beyond. There was just one more room to go through. One more occupied room. Jayin clenched her teeth, slipping the scalpel up her sleeve before she pushed the door open. She expected an attack.
She didn’t expect applause.
“Well done.” Jayin couldn’t help the shiver that went through her at Hale’s voice. The sahirla was facing her, smiling a joyless smile as if he’d won some private wager. Clearly, he had been waiting for her. He stood on a dais in the middle of the room, softly backlit like some kind of avenging warrior. Directly in front of her exit.
The display was suddenly, terribly familiar. For a moment, Hale’s face was replaced by another, his hands outstretched to her to welcome her back. Jayin shook her head, blinking away the vision.
“Honestly,” he said. “I didn’t think you would make it out so quickly.”
“Well I’m just full of surprises,” Jayin said, searching around him. She poked at his defenses, hissing when the energy reverberated back at her. It was almost like what she’d felt in Kane’s chest back in the Gull, the Darkness that was killing him. The backlash was identical.
“As are we,” Hale replied, forcing Jayin back to the present. She abandoned searching him, eying him with newfound wariness. It was time to leave. There was nothing to stand in the way of her freedom. Nothing but Hale, but this was one fight Jayin was looking forward to. After everything he’d done to her, it was time for her to pay it back in kind.
Hale snapped his fingers and auras appeared out of nowhere. Witchhunters.
Jayin whirled, trying to keep all of them in her sight, but there were easily two-dozen hunters. She cursed, forcing herself to keep her face unreadable. How had they shielded so many people from her? It took her a moment to notice the glittering white jewels that studded the walls—the same jewels that adorned her collar.
“Is this all for me?” Jayin asked, crossing her arms. She would not show fear, not to these monsters. “You lot really know how to make a girl feel special.” She smirked, all bluster and Gulwitch arrogance. “Or like you’re scared of her.”
“We are helwyr, and we are not afraid of a creature like you,” Hale replied stiffly.
“Big talk from a group of zealots who were run out of Pavaal a hundred years ago,” Jayin replied offhandedly, wondering if she could somehow use Hale’s distraction to her advantage.
The thought had only just entered her head when her mind splintered into fragments. She pressed her teeth into her lip to keep from screaming and bit down so hard she could taste blood in her mouth. This time, there was no question where the pain was coming from. Some twisted part of her almost longed for the collar so she wouldn’t have to suffer the pain of Maddix Kell’s aura. Her fingers tightened around the scalpel, longing to throw it.
“Big talk indeed,” Hale said, laughing. Jayin swayed on her feet but managed to stay upright. Kell joined Hale up on the dais, a pupil at his master’s side, and the two of them looked extraordinarily smug.
“What are you?” she demanded, looking him straight in the face.
Kell’s eyes widened, and he quickly turned to Hale to gauge his reaction, his hand going to his throat and tapping a nervous rhythm.
Jayin didn't give him time to recover. “I’ve been all over this kingdom, and I’ve never felt anything like you. Whatever you are, it sure as hell isn’t dayri.”
Kell’s face paled, and Jayin felt a vindictive surge of satisfaction. If she was going to die here, she was taking him with her. She forced a laugh, turning her attention back to Hale.
“You all think you’re so much better than we are, but you’re the one with some Dark creature in your midst.”
She shot Kell one last mocking grin before Hale gestured to one of the men. Jayin fell hard as her knees were kicked out from under her, not bothering to use the scalpel to defend herself. It wouldn’t do any good now.
The pain abated as soon as she was dragged out of the room, and Jayin allowed herself to be hauled back into the dungeon. She had no idea what she’d just set in motion, but she hoped it might unsettle them enough to give her an opening. The sahirla would never let an accusation like that go unanswered, and while they were dealing with Kell, she would make her own escape.
And this time, she was going to burn it all down.
Chapter Sixteen:
Maddix
Maddix watched as the witch was dragged away, fear blooming in his heart. The witch called him Dark. In a room full of helwyr, she’d likened him to the very monsters he’d sworn to destroy.
“Hale,” Maddix said finally, breaking the tense silence. “Dryhten.”
“Peace, Maddix,” Hale said, raising a hand. “We’ll discuss it later.”
The words did nothing to soothe his fears. Slowly, the helwyr started to disperse, and Maddix followed suit. Part of him wanted to follow the witch down into the dungeon and demand an explanation. She was wrong. She had to be wrong, and more importantly, she had to tell the others it was a lie.
Maddix didn’t follow the others, balking at the thought of being alone with any of them. He ducked out into the training yard, more to avoid the other helywr than anything else.
The night was clear, and Maddix could see the stars dotting the sky, the swollen moon hanging high above the horizon. Maddix grabbed his sword from the rack and squared off against one of the practice dummies. He didn’t line up his stance or practice form, just slashed and stabbed until he was surrounded by hacked pieces of wood, and his arms ached from the strain.
“Your form is sloppy.” Maddix whirled, moving the sword in a high arc. Hale’s white uniform glowed in the moonlight. Maddix quickly relaxed his stance.
“I’m sorry,” Maddix said. Again, Hale held up his hand, and Maddix fell silent.
“I wanted to speak to you away from the others,” Hale said.
“You have to know that anything out of the valyach’s mouth is a lie,” Maddix said. The words sounded rehearsed, too strained to be honest.
�
��Of course,” Hale said peaceably. “But you understand, we cannot let such claims go unanswered. Especially from a witch with its kind of abilities.”
“But—”
“Kell. If you are innocent, you have nothing to fear.” Maddix’s blood chilled in his veins. He’d heard those words before, when Guards interrogated Gull rats. The accused didn’t always make it out in one piece.
“I don’t,” Maddix insisted, trying to iron away the edges in his voice. He knew what would happen if they thought he was a valyach spy. The proof was in their dungeons: tiny, half-dead, and somehow still fighting.
“We shall see,” Hale replied, and for the first time, Maddix understood the whispers that followed Hale like a shadow. Dead-eyed. Coldblooded. Now, with those white-blue eyes turned on him, he finally understood. “Don’t wander off. This is a compound full of helwyr, after all.”
The chill in his blood froze over completely. Maddix knew a threat when he heard one, but Hale turned away before he could respond.
“Oh, and Maddix,” Hale tossed over his shoulder. “Be careful. You’ll find that this world is a very cold place without us.”
Hale thought he was a spy. The thought struck Maddix as sure as a bolt of lightning. How could he not suspect? A valyach known for prying secrets from men’s heads—a valyach necessary to his revenge, whose capture had led to the deaths of seven hunters—had called him Dark in front of half the hunters in the compound. More than that, Maddix had managed to escape from the most secure prison in the kingdom after killing four people and claiming he’d been possessed. Taken together, it sounded just mad enough to be some kind of harebrained scheme to earn a place among the helwyr only to destroy them from the inside.
Please help me, Maddix winged a prayer skyward as he wove his way through the halls. If there was any star in the sky that hadn’t completely forsaken him, now would be the time to show itself.
“Paxton,” he said by way of greeting, arriving in the medical wing. The healer turned, his face going pale when he saw Maddix at the door. Word traveled fast. “Paxton, it’s not true, what the valyach said. I’m not like her.”
“O-of course not,” Paxton replied, half of his face trying to smile and failing.
“I’m not,” Maddix insisted, taking a step forward. Paxton flinched, scurrying back until he hit the wall. His skin was so pale the scar looked gray in comparison. “Paxton, it’s me.”
“I know that,” Paxton said. “I do, I know that.” He was lying, but Maddix didn’t have the time to stand around and try to convince him otherwise.
“Look, I’m sorry,” Maddix said, putting his hands up in surrender. “I was just looking for some blister salve.” He flexed his right hand so Paxton could see where the skin had bubbled and calloused. The healer nodded jerkily, turning to scrounge around in the cabinets. As soon as his back was turned, Maddix lifted the keys off of the ring on his belt. Paxton had access to the dungeon where the valyach was being held, and after Maddix broke in the first time, the door had been locked tight.
Paxton didn’t so much as twitch at the sudden lightness at his hip, and Maddix pocketed the keys without a sound. Picking pockets was practically a sport for boys in the Gull, and Maddix learned like the rest. Now he wondered what might have happened if he’d joined a carrion gang like all the others. Maybe he’d be dead. Or maybe he’d be retired by now in one of the river mansions, having grown tired of robbing the Gull blind.
“Here,” Paxton said, handing over the jar.
“Thank you,” Maddix said, turning to go.
“I hope—” Paxton said haltingly. “I think you’re one of us.” He wouldn’t, not after what Maddix was about to do. The idea was completely mad, but if there was another choice, Maddix couldn’t see it.
There were four guards posted at the dungeon door, but he’d expected that.
“Hale—dryhten sent me,” Maddix said with as much cocksure arrogance as he could muster. They nodded and let him inside. He snapped a salute and closed the door behind him.
The valyach’s eyes were closed, but Maddix had the sense she knew he was there. She could pretend to be asleep if she liked. Frankly, he preferred it. Her gaze was unnerving, too bright and too green to be quite human. The collar was back on and her hands were shackled behind her back, connected to the wall by a length of chain.
“How’s it feel?” she asked. Maddix jumped. “To have a whole building full of fanatics think you’re a threat?”
“You are a threat. You and all your kind,” Maddix shot at her. The valyach opened her eyes, sizing him up.
“Why are you here?” she demanded.
“You’re going to tell me if they think I’m a traitor, valyach.”
“Sahir,” she corrected sharply. “I’m sahir, not valyach. That word died out with the witchhunters’ usefulness.” Maddix felt his hackles rise, but it wasn’t the time to argue semantics. “And why would I help you?”
“Because if you do, I’ll get you out of here.”
The witch hesitated. For a single moment she was just a girl, bloody and exhausted. Then that moment ended and the witch was on her feet. The manacles clattered against the stone and a scalpel glittered in her freed hands, winding through her fingers like magicians’ playing cards.
Maddix stiffened, putting distance between them, but she only rolled her eyes, cutting through the collar in one swift movement. As soon as it was off, her face twisted and she tossed the studded leather at him.
“Bleeding stars,” she huffed, rubbing her temples.
Maddix scowled, his mouth mashing into a thin line. “Get on with it.”
The girl waved her hand at him, gesturing rudely before her eyes unfocused. “They’re looking for you,” she said, still somewhere he couldn’t see. “Hale and a woman named Misha. She likes long walks on the beach and has two very scary swords. And he’s a sadistic bastard who is definitely thinking of throwing you into the cell next door.”
She could be lying. She could be telling him what he wanted to hear to force his hand.
The valyach seemed to sense his hesitation. “The scarecrow medic with the burn on his face? His name is Paxton, and he got his scar because he decided to get involved with a firewitch’s fiancé. The fiancé’s name was George and poor Paxton doesn’t think he’ll ever love anyone again. You stole his keys. Naughty.”
“Enough,” Maddix said. Her eyes slid back into focus.
“Good timing, because the guards are starting to wonder why I’m not screaming.”
“I’ll give us a distraction,” he whispered. Us. The word burned on his tongue. He hated having to ally himself with her, but he didn’t have any other choice. Part of him knew that by escaping with the valyach, he was proving himself a turncoat. But if he stayed, Hale would have him questioned or tortured for answers he couldn’t give. Maddix had already played the part of scapegoat. He wasn’t interested in reprising the role.
“Everything alright in there?” one of the men asked when Maddix opened the door.
“She got loose,” Maddix said, injecting as much panic into his voice as possible. The soldiers rushed into the dungeon to find that the valyach was gone. In her place was a serpentine monster with burning black scales. The creature laughed, the sound of boulders breaking. In his hand, the collar’s white stones glowed and the illusion melted away.
“Are you just going to stand there and gawk? You stole those keys for a reason, let’s go!” the valyach. She took off running without waiting for an answer, and Maddix trailed after her, shoving the dungeon doors closed and locking them behind him.
“Wait!” Maddix shouted. “What are you doing?” He demanded when he found her trying to pull one of the torches off of the walls.
“We need a distraction,” she said, finally prying the torch free. Her eyes were luminous, manic in the firelight and through the mottled bruising, a long-healed scar slashed through the left side of her face. She didn’t wait for him to reply before running off again. “I need to pick
up a few things,” she shouted without breaking stride.
Cursing the whole blasted lot of them, Maddix raced after her. The armory, he realized when she didn’t immediately head towards the exit. She was going to the armory.
“They’re all looking for you,” she said when the weapons vault was unguarded. “Thanks for being so popular.”
The idea of running around with an armed valyach made his stomach turn, but it also gave Maddix an idea of his own. As the witch girl vanished, Maddix went looking for something Hale had told him about in passing, something that might save his life.
"I love shopping, don’t you?” the witch asked, reappearing. She tugged a pair of black gloves over her hands, the same pair the helwyr had confiscated. Maddix hauled a sword off the wall, the other objects settled firmly in his pocket. Before he could stop her, the witch dropped the torch. The flames caught.
Above them, an alarm shrilled, reverberating through the compound. The helwyr knew the witch had escaped. This little detour may very well have killed them.
“They’re coming,” the valyach said, palming two wickedly hooked knives. For the first time, she looked nervous, and with the fire already burning behind them, they didn’t have very many places to go. “You got an idea, traitor?”
He had half of one, and he didn’t like it.
“Come on,” Maddix said, breaking into a dead sprint towards the yard.
“Oh no,” she said, guessing his plan the moment they stepped out onto the training ground. The stronghold was perched on a cliff over the sea, and the yard was little more than an outcropping of rock that had been sanded flat. “No way.”
“Don’t tell me you can’t swim,” Maddix panted, trying to convince himself that he wasn’t about to get the both of them killed.
“There’s a difference between being able to swim and surviving a fifty-foot drop,” the valyach objected, her voice rising in pitch.