Caben’s features relax and he nods once. “Understood. Though, it can’t be worse than”—he lowers his voice to match the announcer’s—“‘The Prince of Pain.’” He smiles, and I laugh.
“Very true,” I admit.
His gaze holds mine for a moment, then he sighs, breaking eye contact. “Before, what I meant was . . .” He trails off, and continues after clearing his throat. “I was referring to my mother. She used to run her fingers through my hair when I was boy to soothe me to sleep.”
He looks away, adjusts the sleeves of his tunic. Checks the back of his head, making sure the ring is secure. And I watch.
I see Caben.
Not the prince—not the title. Not even the spoiled heir to a kingdom. But a man who has lost things.
Settling along the stone wall, I slide down and bring my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around my legs. “My mother used to whisper-sing to me,” I say. I clarify when Caben furrows his brow and cocks his head. “My father was moody a lot”—I roll my eyes at this, thinking moody is too kind a word—“and she never wanted to bother him. I just remember she had a beautiful voice, and I would scoot as close as possible to hear her.”
Of course, what I don’t tell him is now that her sickness has taken over her lungs, she’ll never sing again. That thought sinks my heart. I’d give anything to afford the medicines that would restore her health. If such medicines exist.
A quiet, unspoken comfort settles in the room, and I stretch out on the floor, ready to retire.
Caben jerks his head toward the cot. “Take the bed,” he says. “I think it would be wise for us to share a chamber—and one of us to be on the lookout for other contenders and whatnot. I can take the floor.”
I’m about to argue, because technically, he’s a prince and I’m still his protector. By protocol, I should be the one to offer up the cot, listening for enemies. But then I remember his words from earlier, about how defending him against Crew belittled him as a man, and wonder if this is yet another of his ways that makes him feel empowered as such.
I decide it is. I simply nod, then move to the cot and lie on my side.
There is much more to discuss and to figure out about the Otherworlders, our countries, and our own predicament. But right now, I’m exhausted. So I close my eyes and hum the song of my childhood as I drift off.
I crack my eyes open as a sharp pain pierces my stomach. Sitting up and hugging my waist, I realize I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast the morning before. My hunger pains are doubling me over. But at least I can deal with this pain.
I stretch and relish the feel of my body moving with more ease and less soreness. Thank you, Alyah.
As my blurry sleep vision clears, I spot Caben in the corner, his back pressed up against the chamber wall. Watching me.
“You snore,” he says, a smile curling the corner of his mouth. “Loudly.”
Annoyed, I say, “Sorry your accommodations are not up to your royal standards.”
This only stretches the smile on his face.
I push off the cot, walk across the chamber, and unlock the metal door. “Come on. I’m starving, and we need to keep up our strength.”
Once we’re back in the master cell, we accept our trays of food—if that’s what you can honestly call it—and find a place along the wall. The grain bread and cheese are dry and bland, but I devour every crumb. Then I guzzle from my canteen, first drinking and then taking another swig to swish around my mouth, spitting it out behind my back.
“Ladylike,” Caben says.
“Again, I apologize that things aren’t to your liking.” I scowl. “Did I sleepwalk during the night and whip up on you? I must have done something to deserve this degree of etiquette critiquing.”
He laughs. “Sorry. I’m just feeling lighter.” He tilts his head. “Relieved, I guess. That we discovered—”
I press my finger against his mouth and peek around the cell. Most of the contenders have moved out to the training ground, but one of the feather brothers, Kaide, lingers near the opening, sending looks our way. The brothers don’t talk. Always quiet. And it’s the quiet ones that worry me.
As I continue to glance around the room, I become acutely aware of my finger still resting over Caben’s lips. They’re soft and warm, and he doesn’t remove my hand. Instead, he holds perfectly still. I meet his eyes and lower my hand, the grooves of my finger taking note of the curves and warmth of his mouth. Then I quickly tuck my hand under my thigh.
“Hurry and finish,” I say, nodding to his meager wedge of cheddar cheese. “We need to get you wielding swords and slinging axes.” And I need to explore and find a way to contact Lilly.
As Caben picks bite-size pieces of hard cheese, eating with a scowl on his face, I recall the outside of the cell. I made sure to study the building before the incident with Lilly happened. It’s much larger than the space we’re given to roam, and I’m sure that means the ring leaders have their own section in this massive place. I just need to find a way to her side.
After Caben and I enter the training area and take up swords and two tattered mats for sparring, I glance around at the large, rock-enclosed room. The Otherworlders build their homes and buildings out of the earth itself. And the earth has caves and crevices and chambers.
Lifting my sword languidly over my head and stretching out my muscles, I continue to search. Then I catch the low trickle coming from the tiny waterfall in the back of the chamber.
There.
The water flows from an underground stream somewhere. I’m sure it supplies the other ring leaders’ contenders with water, too. In order to chamber the water and guide it toward each ring leaders’ section, at some time, someone had to crawl in there. Is there an access point from inside here?
“Kal,” Caben says, snapping my attention back to the now.
I give my head a shake. “Yes?”
“You’re staring off into space,” he says. “And space doesn’t exist down here. What are you thinking about?”
“I’ll tell you later.” I raise my sword. “Remember, don’t get cocky and start taking sloppy swings when you think you’ve beaten your opponent.” I widen my eyes. “Like yesterday.”
His face flushes; the scarlet hue is barely visible in the dim lighting, but it’s enough to bring a healthy glow to his stubbled cheeks. My stomach tumbles.
“Don’t worry,” he says, meeting my blade with his. “I’m a quick study, remember? You’ll not best me again today.” He thrusts his sword forward, trying to catch me off-guard.
Simple man. I shake my head.
I wonder if the goddesses denied males estrogen in order to balance the sexes. They are stronger physically, but clearly lacking in common sense most of the time. He tried this same tactic the day before and it didn’t—
Caben moves to his left and lunges, snapping his blade taut against my hip.
“Point, me,” he proclaims.
Goddess.
“Nice way to change it up,” I say.
His dark eyebrows shoot up. “A compliment?” He chuckles. “They need to feed us better. You’re starting to lose your edge.”
It’s impossible to measure the passing of time down here. There’s no sky, no sun, no devices in the cell to determine it. So I keep track of when Bax comes and goes, sends food, makes announcements. He must be going by some sort of schedule. I just need to learn it, and discover when Caben and I can find privacy to inspect the waterfall.
It’s now after our second meal—we only get two—and the contenders are mingling in the master cell and their private chambers. Yesterday, Bax came to pronounce that we performed well for the gamblers and he was pleased with his league. So I sit patiently in the corner, waiting for him to make an appearance.
Caben and Crew are talking a few feet away, and I hope the prince isn’t giving away any information. He truly does confound me. One moment he’s clueless, seeking guidance like a man-child, and the next he’s cunning and grappling like a
war lord.
Astonishing.
No, still confounding. I shake my head. When we escape and the Otherworlders’ reign of horror ends, I wonder what the future holds for us. Will he speak to me as familiar as he does down here? When he makes his visits to Cavan, maybe? Will we share knowing glances, but pretend we were never cellmates?
Or maybe he’ll simply never travel to Cavan, as he never did before.
I trace my wounded finger across the stone floor, making swirls in the dirt. It’s not important, and doesn’t matter what the rulers of the Three Realms do. Why should that matter to me? I need to be focused on getting us out of here. That’s all.
Maybe Caben is right. Poor diet is weakening my mind and body. I groan. You’d think the ring leaders would want their contenders in the best shape possible. But maybe not. Maybe they only want them strong enough to fight for their lives, but not outwit or outmuscle them.
Somewhere on the other side of these walls, Lilly, Willa, and the other Nactue are thinking and plotting, too. Lilly may even have figured out the mystery boggling my thoughts. I’ll get to her, I assure myself. Then I close my eyes for a moment.
Far away, Empress Iana is resting in a sick bed, praying for her people as her life force fades dimmer. The very thing to restore her health is just streets away. I wish I could feel my mother as I do the empress—to at least know that she’s alive. Safe.
My eyes snap open and I look down at my cuff. Crew said it was a monitor, but I wonder if it actually monitors our whereabouts or simply our wins and identity. And if so, whether there’s a way to disarm the locator.
The loud clank of the cell door opening interrupts my contemplation. Bax enters the room with a small smile curling his thin lips, his armored chest puffed out.
“Contenders,” he says, his deep voice rumbles. “The Reckoning begins in eight hours. You’re competing for the freedom ring. I suggest you rest up.” He lifts his chin. “May the finest contender win.”
Competing, I scoff inwardly, my muscles tensing.
Crew jumps to his feet and turns toward Bax. “Who fights first?” he asks. “And where’s my cuff—the one with my wins?”
Bax rolls his shoulders back, his face hardens. “I did not give you permission to ask questions. But since you bring up some good points, I’ll answer.” His eyes roam over the contenders, and I grip the hem of my tunic between clenched fingers. I plead to Farrah that Caben won’t be chosen to fight one of my sisters.
I’m only slightly relieved when Bax’s gaze lands on Tobias. “The Dark Horse, Tobias, will face-off with Collar’s equally matched Metal Mouth.”
My chest loosens and I breathe. Though the fact that I’m thankful someone other than my charge or sisters may die first fills me with guilt. Before my thoughts dive any darker, Bax clears his throat, calling our full attention.
“And,” he continues. “Since this is a new season, you’re cuffs have been replaced—to ready you for your wins for the Reckoning.”
Everyone glances at their cuffs. My three stones shimmer, but no lights. I look up to see the rest of the contenders’ cuffs dull and unlit. Cleared—the deaths wiped out. Crew shouts out and barrels toward Bax. A guard captures his arms, pulling him back. Tobias starts, only getting a foot ahead before he’s taken down by Bax’s other guard. The chains on the guards’ chests rattle against their dark armor as they wrestle the furious contenders.
Outside the cell, five more guards fill the entrance, ready to dampen any attempts at a riot.
Crew’s chest heaves and his face pinches in anger. “You can’t do this,” he snarls.
For a moment—almost too quickly—Bax’s mouth turns down, his expression remorseful. But then it’s gone, his features snapping back into their usual hard mask. “Rest up,” he says, then exits the cell.
The guards drop Crew and Tobias to the ground, clamp their pale hands on their weapons, and wait to see if the other contenders will retaliate. As Crew picks himself up, the guards eye him. He turns and heads toward his personal chamber.
After Tobias does the same, the guards leave, slamming the cell door behind them.
The air in the master cell is thick with resentment and tension, and maybe guilt. I can’t imagine how it feels to have killed in a blood sport—to know you may only need to end a few more lives—only to be told you have to take even more.
Then again, these people might simply be angered that their wins have been removed, that they’ve been set back. Some of them have been chosen because of their fierce reputations in their realms. They may have more blood on their hands then the Otherworlders.
Lena retires to her chamber soon after Kaide and Orion leave, and Caben and I are alone in the master cell, the training room open to us.
Caben walks over to me and lowers himself into a squat. “I know you’re out here for a reason,” he whispers. His eyes flick over my face, and I study the scar slashing the side of his temple and cheek, my eyes tired and slowly closing.
I give my head a shake, waking myself out of the sleepy daze. “Do you know much about tracking devices?”
His lips quirk into a side-grin. “Yes,” he answers simply. “Technology is just one of the things Perinyians are very good at.”
I allow him to bask in this victory, as I’m not technologically inclined, but wonder about the rest of his unspoken claim. What other skills does the prince harbor that I’m unaware of?
As if he knows my plan, Caben flips his cuff and inspects the backing. He reveals a thin metal pin from his waist band, then works the hinge of the cuff. I raise an eyebrow. “It doesn’t have a tracking chip,” he says, turning the cuff around and showing me the back. “It only ticks down an algorithm. I assume, for number of kills.”
“Are you sure?” I ask. “We have to be certain.”
He nods. “Yes. A monitoring chip needs a special processor with a cooling device.” He takes my hand and presses my fingers to the back plate of his cuff. “It’s cold. The outside would be warm as it heats up to cool the inside of the chip. Bax lied. There’s no biometrics.”
Confused, but willing to trust his knowledge, I nod once. Then I study the stones set on the front of the cuff. Their milky consistency is familiar, and the blue sheen reminds me of the surface of the—“Moonstone,” I say, as it comes to me.
Caben’s head snaps back. But my mind is slowing putting together the Otherworld.
I look up at him, and ask again, “Are you sure we can’t be tracked?”
He nods. “I promise.”
“Then we have seven and a half hours to find our secret passage.”
The waterfall trickles next to me, its narrow stream glinting off glassy, smooth rocks worn down by the water over time. I wedge my boot into a crevice along the rock wall. “Hand me the light-stick,” I say to Caben.
“Here,” he says. The spray splashes my arm as I reach behind me to grasp the light that he pried from the training room floor. I glance over my shoulder. His face is cast in a dim blue-gray hue, his eyes illuminated under the dark glow. “I should be the one climbing while you keep a lookout.”
Tucking the lighted stick into the front of my tunic, I remind him, “We’ve already discussed this.”
“Yes, but you’d be better at coming up with an excuse,” he says, a crooked smile curving his lips.
For a moment, I’m worried he’s right. Then I recall his elaborate plan, the one that led me all over downtown Cavan as I unknowingly helped him plan an escape. “I doubt that.”
His smile widens and he winks. Ignoring his smug expression, I reach up and grab ahold of jagged rock, then hoist myself up. I’ve nursed my injuries, and kept from moving and tearing at my healing wounds too much, but there’s no doing that now. Every aching muscle, every bruised rib feels the burn as I climb.
The rock wall reaches as high as one of Cavan’s smaller buildings, but I don’t intend to climb to the top. I just need to find an opening, a cavern or tunnel, something that might be hidden it in the dark.
Following the waterfall, I continue upward, slowly finding new handholds and footing. I’m tempted to glance down, make sure that Caben isn’t in trouble, but I don’t want to know how high I am.
When I try to grasp the rock above my head, my hand slips through air. Grabbing a jutting stone to my left, I maneuver sideways and up, then lean against a large rock. Taking the light-stick from my tunic, I hold it over the opening. It’s just large enough to crawl into.
I suck in a deep breath and look down. Caben is maybe about twenty feet below. I can barely make out his form. I wave the light, signaling him, then toss it into the cavern. From inside here, there’s no way for him to warn me if the guards or Bax return.
Alyah, keep him safe.
The chilled cave narrows, the water flowing in a shallow stream beneath me as I crawl. There must be two waterway mouths that connect, intersecting to create the waterfall that we fill their canteens from.
After a couple of minutes, the tunnel widens and I stand, squinting against the darkness. I dig the light-stick from my tunic and hold it up.
My breath hitches.
It’s beautiful.
The sides of the cavern catch the ultraviolet light, reflecting in the shimmering pool of water near the center. The sediments and minerals in the rocks glow bright, dazzling colors; amazing reds, pinks, blues, and greens, contrasting the black around them. The water is crystal clear, and beneath its still surface, a white slab of rock illuminates the pool like a silver halo.
“Whoa.”
I jerk my head sideways and bring my hands up. Caben stands behind me. “Goddess, Caben.” I release a forced breath.
His lips turn up. “Sorry,” he says. “I thought your protector senses would warn you that I was near.”
Shaking my head, I turn back around to inspect the cavern. “It is amazing.” I pause only a moment longer, letting the scenery wash over me, then start looking for a connecting tunnel. Lowering the light, I search for another stream.
Of Silver and Beasts (Goddess Wars) Page 14