“The Warlord would never—”
“Heavens, he has no interest in her. His tastes run younger.” Even Ellian, playing the role of the jaded businessman, could not keep the faint distaste from his tone.
She’s not his type, Talon had said, and Cade remembered the look on his face. He sank his head back, trying to think. He needed to persuade Ellian to let him out of here. Perhaps if he were to promise that Ellian could kill him after Aryn was free…
And it all fell into place. Cade opened his eyes.
“You planned this. You planned for her to get taken.” He didn’t understand it yet, not all of it, but he was sure of that much, at least.
Ellian laughed, at last.
“Finally. I wondered how long it would take.”
“She’s not to blame—”
“I beg to differ.” The humor was gone in a flash. “She betrayed me for you.”
“You threw us together! You had me sleep in her room! You—fuck it, you’re supplying the Warlord with weapons, did you never once think—”
This time, the nightstick came down on his face, and he felt his lip split. Wincing, gasping, he rolled his head.
“Mr. Williams, do not take me for a fool.” Ellian moved into view at last, his face as still as if it had been carved from stone. “Are you now about to inform me about my wife’s political leanings? Do you think for a moment that I was unaware of that?”
“Then why…” Cade broke off, wincing.
“Because the Warlord, up until now, has tolerated that rebellion. Until now…no one thought it would come to anything.”
He closed his eyes. Was he here to be questioned about the weapons? He would say nothing about them. Giving Talon a fighting chance was a good enough way to go. And Talon would get Aryn out—more, apparently, than Cade could say for Ellian.
“So you didn’t care that she was a rebel,” Cade said softly. “But why throw her at me?”
“You can’t see it yet?” Ellian settled into a chair nearby, crossing his legs and staring into the middle distance. “I began to grow attached to her.”
Cade stayed silent, head twisted to watch Ellian. His senses screamed for him to watch Colin, at his other side with the nightstick, but it was Ellian who was controlling things here. Ellian was the one to be watched.
“Do you know how unsettling it is to fall in love, Mr. Williams?” Ellian met his eyes and smiled mirthlessly. “I suppose you do. Have you always loved her? No, don’t answer, it doesn’t matter. For me, Aryn was a pretty diversion. Oh, don’t misunderstand. I was captivated by her. What I told you when I hired you—it was true. Sentimentality. She was lovely, and I did not want to know she would be broken in the mines. I needed a wife. The pieces fit.” He looked down at his steepled fingers. “And it worked. She became a little pet. Docile, beautiful. And then one day she was…more. You know, I even remember the moment it happened. We were in the dining room having dinner, and she asked me how my day was. A little courtesy, nothing more. And I told her the truth.”
Cade could think of nothing to say to this. It would have been funny if it were not so terrifyingly clear that Ellian was serious.
“Do you see now, Mr. Williams? I struggled against it. I held her at arm’s length. But there was no denying what I felt. I could not keep myself from confiding in her any longer. And so I needed to know that no matter what she thought, what she wanted…Aryn would be loyal to me.” Ellian’s voice was dry. “So I gave her you.”
“What?”
“Do you not see the perfection of it?” Ellian was trying to appear pleased, but his mouth twisted bitterly. “Mr. Rift gave me exactly what I asked for—the most honorable man he knew. I could see at a glance that you were the perfect test for her. Did you truly not see how well matched the two of you were? I knew that if she could keep her mouth shut around you…I would be safe.”
“…what?”
“You thought I was worried about those kisses? Nothing so pedestrian. She could have had you if that was all it was. I might have killed you, of course, but it would hardly have disturbed me. No, it was the secrets that concerned me. And Aryn…failed. Which of course made her the perfect bargaining tool with the Warlord. He’s under the impression that I will exert considerable effort to get her back. And he is wrong. He will not guess my purpose until it is far, far too late for him.”
Cade felt his eyes drift closed. All this time, wondering how Ellian could not see what was happening...
“And now that we are here, Mr. Williams, I find that I cannot forgive you.” Ellian was shaking, his nostrils flared, his lips compressed in a thin line. “I had intended to send you away, you know. When this was over. Some part of me even wondered if I would let Aryn go with you, if she failed the test. And yet, now that I have seen it with my own eyes…I do not think I can allow that. And so I bid you goodbye.” He stood, taking a moment to look Cade in the eyes before he swept away.
“Did you not want her to love you?” Cade spat out. He could not keep it in any longer. “Didn’t you wonder if you could treat her kindly, and trust her, and see if she would love you?”
“You know, I did once.” Ellian looked at the far wall, his eyes faintly narrowed. “At the beginning of this. It was a foolish notion. I am honest with myself. I hoped that she would choose me. But that was before I had the experience of watching her obey me despite herself. Have you ever had someone kiss you, Mr. Williams, with hatred in their eyes? Have you ever had so much control over another human? It is…intoxicating. I find myself wondering if I will keep her once this is all over. It’s almost worth keeping you alive to see it. But not quite.”
And he was gone.
Chapter 30
There was the faint buzz of a comm from the Warlord’s ear and Aryn looked over in interest before she could stop herself.
“Interested, my dear? I knew you could not possibly be so hard of hearing as all that.”
Aryn looked away without a word. She had managed to keep herself quiet for the past while, neither responding to the Warlord’s baiting comments nor asking any of the questions that swirled in her head. His false politeness grated on her nerves, and a tide of guilt was rising quickly in her chest at every thinly veiled taunt about Ellian.
She had chosen her course: when the Warlord presented her at dinner, she would tell Ellian to hold to his bargain—even if it killed her.
That was her plan, in any case, in that it was the plan that made the most sense. She could not allow Ellian to be manipulated into destroying the rebellion for her sake, which meant that she must say something. She had been over this extensively in her head, and there was no other option. Unfortunately, what little resolve she had evaporated every time her eyes passed over the soldier’s body, still lying on the carpets. The Warlord killed casually, quickly, when it suited him, and in some ways that scared her more than the stories of torture.
Some logical part of her brain told her that with her dead, Ellian would have no more reason to bend to the Warlord’s will. And Cade… She turned her head away sharply, squeezing her eyes shut. If she thought of him, bleeding out, at Ellian’s mercy, she would begin to scream and she would not be able to stop.
“What is it, my dear?” The voice was so close to her that she jumped. “Are you so worried that I will make you go to dinner in that bloody gown?” The Warlord came to smile down at her, reaching out to brush a lock of hair behind her ear.
She was going to kill him. Her muscles twitched with the effort of not striking out, and when he laughed, she knew he saw that. He straightened, looking down at her for a moment before making for the door.
“I’ll send someone to help you fix your hair,” he said over his shoulder. Then the door closed behind him and she was alone.
Aryn curled into a ball on the couch and tried to keep the tears back, but it was no use. She had been paraded around like a little doll, first for Ellian’s purposes and now the Warlord’s, and now Aryn herself would be used to undo the rebellion s
he held so dear. How had things gone so wrong? How had she botched it all so completely?
Her head came up slowly. There was nothing she should have changed. For the rebellion to have a chance, she needed to get them the weapons. For them to trust the Dragons quickly, she needed to come here with Talon. There was no way around it. Whatever was happening now, Aryn had done all in her power to avoid it.
But Cade had borne the cost.
She had to get out of here. She had to get to him. A message dinged into being on the console and she shot it an impatient glance, disturbed from her thoughts.
What made her look closer, she did not know. The name on the message was unfamiliar, and there was no preview to tell her what might be inside. But the more Aryn looked at the notification, the surer she became that she should look at it.
In fact, why had she not looked on the computer before? All of the Warlord’s plans were probably on there in some form or other. Cursing herself for her stupidity, she swiped sideways on the message, and only then realized that she was likely going to be asked for a password.
No password required; the Warlord, like other powerful people, did not seem to believe that anyone could have gotten to his computer. Aryn waved her fingers to the left to scroll through the desktop items, and frowned. Where should she even start?
The message. As good a place as any. Something coming in now had more likelihood of being relevant, surely, than any file she picked at random. Aryn scrolled back until she found the messages, and opened this one, notification glowing a jarring blue in this room of golds and reds.
It was from Ellian. Aryn frowned, then shook her head. So he’d used a pseudonym; she supposed that was to be expected. She recognized the signoff, however: ENP. The message, unfortunately, was uninformative: Release Aryn first, it read. Touching, but unhelpful. And Ellian had to know that there was no chance his request would be honored.
But what was he responding to? Aryn searched for a button that would bring her to the message thread. Nothing under the pseudonym. Sent messages… And there it was. Schematics. She looked through them, uncomprehending, wishing she’d learned more engineering in school. That was a valve there. That was a…what were they called…
Dammit. She scrolled, trying to find any hint of a description, and there, at the bottom, found a map with thirty-one districts all marked, and multiple locations inside each mine and city.
It was simple, she realized. Whatever this thing was it had to be a weapon or the Warlord wouldn’t be asking Ellian for it. And the man had admitted to her face that he intended to crush the rebellion. Aryn scrolled back up and memorized as much of the schematic as she could. It was small, small enough to fit in the palm of her hand, and faintly domed on top. Two tiny release valves stuck out one side of it.
It would have to be enough. And she needed to tell the rebellion. How to get out? Think, think! Aryn looked around herself at the doors, listened for any sound outside, and then kicked off her shoes and stood, pulling the hem of her gown up and tucking it into her bodice. Too dangerous to take the door—she’d seen soldiers waiting in the hallway outside. And if she remembered her view of the palace correctly, this domed roof was far from the tallest thing around, so she wouldn’t be stranded on the outside of a spire and plummet to her death if she climbed out here.
So far, so good. Aryn marched over to the bookshelves, wiped her palms on her gown, and took a deep breath. Then she launched herself up, placing hands and feet carefully as she scrambled up the makeshift ladder, thanking her past self for the daily workouts. Her eyes caught sight of a few volumes as she climbed: an embossed Bible, the leather crumbling with age, and an old, heavy encyclopedia set.
She saw the alarm system a scant half-second before she set her hand down on the final ledge. She yanked her hand back, gasp echoing around the room, and nearly fell. Her grip slid along the shelves and then held, fingers aching, and Aryn shook as she curled her body close. She gave a second look at the alarm system, lasers glowing a baleful red. It was enclosed in a metal shell, and the goldwork of her necklace would be too soft to serve as a tool. Why couldn’t the Warlord have been as confident here as he was with his computer?
More importantly, how was she going to get over the ledge without tripping the alarm? Aryn craned her head to look around. There had to be a way. There had to be.
Don’t spend time clinging to plans that won’t work, Samara’s voice said in her mind, a constant refrain as they tried to harry the Warlord’s soldiers in the villages. How many times do I have to tell you?
“Never again,” Aryn promised, as she always did. She tried not to wonder if she would see Samara again; at any rate, that should hinge on whether or not she could get out. She climbed back down carefully and kicked her way free, landing on the carpet with a sigh.
Maybe there was another door, a secret door. She looked around at the desk and wandered over to it. She spent a moment to remember the arrangement of the papers on its surface and then began to shift each carefully, looking below it for a lever, and inlaid panel, anything that might be pressed, or respond to a palm print… But it would be pressure, she was sure of it. The Warlord always wore gloves, and secret doors were for emergencies and subtlety. He wouldn’t want to stop to bare his fingers.
No buttons. Aryn ran her hands around the carved patterns at the edge of the desk and swore when she found nothing there, either. She looked behind herself at the painting, and along the sides of the bookshelves. Maybe the lever was one of the books, like it so often was in films.
…there had to be thousands of books in here, and without knowing where the door was, she could hardly limit the search to which books would be conveniently placed. Aryn chewed her lip and crossed her arms.
Her head jerked up a moment later. Pulling at the drawers on the desk, Aryn found sheaves of paper, notebooks, computers…and, buried deep in one drawer, a gun. She checked, her fingers shaking. Loaded. She didn’t have to warn anyone. She just had to stop this at the source: the Warlord.
She didn’t stop to think. She knew that if she paused to consider this, even for a moment, she would lose her nerve. Leaving the gun on the desk, she ran lightly across the carpet and rapped on the inside of the door. When it opened a crack to reveal a soldier’s unfriendly face, Aryn did her best to look chastened.
“Would you ask the Warlord to come back, please?”
“No.” He shut the door in her face.
“But it’s important!” Aryn called. “Please, it’s important.”
Silence. She bit her lip, trying to come up with something.
“I feel too guilty not to tell him. I can’t just let him walk into a trap.”
The door opened again, and the man glared at her suspiciously.
“The weapons he wanted from Mr. Pallas,” Aryn said. “I think I know where they are. Please tell the Warlord to get out of his meeting. It’s not safe there. And the rest—look, just tell him to come back.”
It was enough.
“Wait here,” the soldier told her curtly. He shut the door in her face before she could ask what else he expected her to do, and she heard his footsteps pounding down the corridor at a run.
It would be soon. One way or another. Aryn took a deep breath, heart racing, and then she walked slowly back across the carpet to pick up the gun and kneel behind the desk. She fixed her eyes on the door and tried to empty her mind.
The Warlord must have been closer than she thought, for it was not long after that footsteps sounded in the hall. As the door creaked open, Aryn gripped the gun and slid her finger onto the trigger, struggling to draw breath. It was now or never.
Chapter 31
The first thing that occurred to Cade when he woke up was that he was clearly somewhere near the lower end of purgatory. The rock beneath him was hot enough that he was sweating, and the smells of soot and explosives wafted heavy in the air. The ground was shaking somewhat, and he could hear the low murmur of hopeless voices. Not hell, filled with fire and
the screams of the damned, but close.
Funny. He’d always figured he’d end up in hell.
All was explained, however, when he tried to sit up and blacked out. When he came to, he was shuddering, a silent scream on his lips. He took a deep breath and winced. No dead person ever hurt this much.
Or maybe it was hell. After all, Ellian’s comments hadn’t left much room for interpretation.
“Hey.” Someone nudged him with their foot. “You alive?”
Cade cracked his eyes open and froze. The faces staring down at him were unhealthily pale, with lank hair and reddened eyes. Their coveralls were filthy; a cautious glance showed his body clothed in the same.
“Where is this?” The words came out in a voice that cracked and broke in a dry throat. “What is this place?”
With a mechanical shriek and a groan, the ground shuddered and went still.
“You have to get up.” Hands pulled at him and Cade gritted his teeth on the pain as they hauled him upright.
“Where…” His lip cracked.
No one paid attention to him. He could pick out rock behind them in the flicker of headlamps, and he was carried out into a low hallway by a tide of people. Boots tramped on metal and stone, the roof reached down for him, and two of his cohort looped his arms over their shoulders to haul him along. Their whispers seemed to be coming from far away.
We’ll still be held to quota.
He doesn’t even know where he is.
Came to the elevator and he was already in there.
Cade’s lips moved and he could hear his voice, but they did not bother to look at him. Yelling was coming from ahead, the sounds of machinery growing louder, and presently the party emerged into a low, dark chamber filled with the hiss and groan of machinery. Cade’s impaired vision managed to pick up the regular motion of assembly lines. Mechanical bells buzzed, sending pain shooting through his skull, and the rows of hunched workers ceded their places in line to the new group.
Dragon's Honor (The Dragon Corps Series Book 1) Page 17