Page 103 of Crown of Tides and Fury

“Brought you some dinner.”

I suspected the meal he slipped through the bars was a sign he was softening, though I didn’t dare hope. He called it a boxed salad—a waxy box with a handful of tossed greens in the center with a large helping of mixed berries in one corner and a glob of coleslaw in another. Obviously, he was worried about my nutrition, just not enough to give me a good dose of Vitamin D straight from the sun.

The apples were gone, and I didn’t plan on touching that cheese again unless he starved me for a week. But if I got to that point, moldy cheese would be the least of my problems.

I was done trying to convince him that Wickham wasn’t coming so he should let me go and take me somewhere warmer. I was done asking for a trip to the bathroom. In fact, I had nothing at all to say to him when he delivered the food, and it seemed he had nothing to say to me either. He handed over a plastic knife and fork, and after waiting only a few seconds for me to start a conversation, he walked slowly toward the stairs.

It killed me, but I didn’t stop him. In fact, I was so starved for conversation I would have gladly teased Archer into railing at me if it meant a break in the silence. But Griffon? Talking to him might prove more painful than mere isolation, so I let him go.

Then, something funny happened while I was eating.

I realized my stomach had shrunk back to the size of my Twila Café days and decided to save the bulk of the meal for tomorrow, just in case. So I closed the box and slid it away from me just as something slipped against stone…somewhere. I knew the sound of my box shifting along the table wouldn’t be amplified inside the stairwell. And though I didn’t hear another peep, I knew someone was near.

I imagined them breathing. Even though I summoned every Spidey-sense in my body, I couldn’t guess which brother hovered there in the dark, unwilling to join me in the dungeon and unable to leave.

Probably Archer, I decided, since he seemed to be the one assigned to babysit the torches and clean the litter box. I don’t know what the guy had done to deserve such a job, but with every sneer and every spit, I felt less bad for him. Even if he’d never laid a hand on me, in that taxi, he hadn’t stopped the men who had, and he never once suggested to his sister she might take it easy on me.

So some light torture was the least he deserved.

If it was Griffon hovering, spying on me, then he was just as deserving. He really should have left me in Oxford…

The most obnoxious songs I could think of were those I’d learned at Girl’s Camp when I was a teenager. Man, I’d hated those songs. But thanks to one week, every year, for four years, they were forever imprinted on my memory.

And if there was anything worse than an obnoxious song, it was an obnoxious song sungbadly…

Before I tried it, I had no idea it would be so difficult to sing off key on purpose. But I did it. Painful? You betcha. I was unexpectedly disgusted with myself. But the chance I was torturing Archer more than made up for it. After going through my repertoire twice, I took a break and listened. My imaginary senses told me he’d fled. He’d be a fool not to.

Feeling quite alone again, I sang for myself, back on key.

I sang the Irish Washerwoman song that my grandmother used to sing when the lightning storms scared me. I remembered a lullaby about horses my mother sang when I was even younger. Then I tried to remember some of the songs Kitch and Wickham and Urban sang, now and then, when they’d had too much to drink. And when I couldn’t remember the words, I inserted my own.

I thought I heard footsteps far, far away, and stopped to listen. I hadn’t imagined them this time. They kept coming. Much faster than Griffon’s usual pace. And Archer never made noise—

Was Wickham coming for me after all?

I gripped the bars and waited for the steps to get closer, so I could warn Wickham away. But then another set joined the first and I couldn’t tell how many might be coming. Was it the whole team?

Surely Griffon had prepared for that. And I worried there might have been a bloody battle while I’d been sitting on my ass, singing away.

One set of steps again, this time coming closer. Fast and angry. Living in the half-dark for days, the slightest sounds drove me crazy. Now, I trusted nothing. So, when the steps sharpened, I shouted, “Wickham, if that’s you, stop! Don’t come any closer! It’s a trap!”

A low, mean chuckle announced Archer before he emerged from the dark opening. No fresh torches. No plastic bags.

“He won’t use the stairs,” he growled, his grinning white teeth looking sharper than usual. But no. I’d never seen him smile like this before. He was happy about something, excited even, which meant bad news for me. “No chance to warn him. But don’t worry. I’ll keep my word. The second your Wickham arrives, I’m to let you go.”

I remembered the warning—never believe a Fae—so I asked him to clarify. “You’ll let me go. But will you let me leave alive?”

He laughed and stomped in my direction, just the once. I winced and jumped away from the bars, and he laughed again.

I edged to the back of the mattress and sat in my shadows, hoping he’d forget about me. He paced the length of the aisle, from the stairs to the far wall and back again, growing more agitated with each pass. After a while, he began to pause at the entrance, to listen for a minute, then pace again.

“Looks like he’s not coming,” I said quietly.

Archer shot me a fierce look but kept moving. “Any minute now.”

I moved to the gate again, worried what he might be listening for. “What makes you think that?”

“Because they’re here. Your army. To distract us. But they’re up there, and the trap is here. They can’t help him any more than they can help you.” He changed direction suddenly and came to a stop just a foot from the bars. “Orion’s coming, you see. And his minions will slay them all.” He threw his head back and laughed like he’d just heard something hilarious. “Your friends have brought mortals to an immortal fight! Knives to a gunfight!” Then he laughed again, stomped into the stairwell, and settled in there, chuckling.

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