Page 57 of Power of Draken

Kai is injured. We’ve been captured. There is no way out. The reality of our situation keeps repeating itself in my head over and over as the mercenaries grab Kai and me, strip away our weapons and escort us from the rooftops under guard.

I search the shadows for any sign of Logan, but don’t see the man anywhere. I didn’t even see him make his escape. One moment he was there on the roof with Kai and me, and the next he was gone. At least his perfected disappearing act is working in our favor for once.

Kai is injured.

We’ve been captured.

There is no way out

Fury pounds through my veins, its heat filling my body. Keeping me warm. Keeping me from collapsing in on myself, because the alternative to fury is terror.

None of this is right. Mercenaries hired to attack cadets? Auric steel weapons stolen and turned against us? My stupid body and its dizzy spells throwing my team into harm’s way?

None of these things should ever have been permitted to happen. I should never have been permitted to happen, not as a cadet, not as anything but a backroom apothecary, with neither rank nor privilege. Collin was right. I’m nothing but a liability. And I’ve just gotten Kai and me sentenced to hell.

My fingers roll into fists, nails biting into my palms. The sting grounds me, focusing the anger into a sharp point that lets me put one foot in front of the other. This is wrong. It’s all unfair.

“They are not looking to kill us." Kai says from beside me, his gaze surveying every inch of the wet alley around us. Probably memorizing each stone, and turn and person. He sounds calm and strong, but I know that’s a lie because he is limping so badly that he is likely to fall on his face soon. Not that he’ll let me put my arm around his waist and help him along. He’d actually growled at me when I tried. Idiot. Stubborn idiot. Kai stretches his shoulders. “We are worth infinitely more alive.”

“He isn't wrong, girl,” says one of our escorts, a hulking man with a craggy face marred by a network of scars. I think his name is Mercer. “Play along with the game and everybody gets what they need. Cooperation is in everyone’s benefit.”

That is decidedly not what I remember of the exercise rules, but I don’t argue the point as Mercer rips my tag from around my neck, then does the same to Kai. I know what's coming next. Interrogation. So that they can sell us along with our codewords back to the Spire. If that happens, I don't think either of us will live to graduation.

This can't be how it all ends, at the hands of mercenaries and a war game. Our lives have to have more meaning than that, don't they?

"You weren’t here earlier in the day,” Kai says casually to Mercer, like the two are on a stroll. Or a debrief. “I scouted. Unless I am so bad that I missed a whole regiment?”

Mercer grunts, but answers a few steps later. “Only arrived closer to nightfall. Take one more step toward her, and I’ll knock you unconscious." His voice hardens with the threat.

Kai stops inching toward me and holds his palms up, as if he’d gotten caught going for a cookie jar and not in the middle of pissing off the people who intend to torture us. The rain has matted his hair to his head and the wet clothes clinging to his muscled body make him look like a god when lightning strikes overhead. Which it does regularly.

Mercer, who looks like a hulking brute beside Kai, scowls.

I scowl too. Because if Kai had let me put my arm around him at the start, staying close to each other wouldn’t have been suspicious. And because Kai’s limp seems to be getting worse with each step.

“Not so pretty or smart now, are ya?” a man hollers drunkenly from an open second story balcony of a rundown building.

I blink, hanging on to hope that the joy in the man’s voice isn’t really directed at two drenched cadets, one of them obviously injured. The hope dies with the next shout.

“Ey, merc-man, that one looks like he’s about to bolt," a woman calls toward Mercer. "Mayhap you should give him a good smack or two. Don’t worry, these Spire heads are too thick to be damaged.”

Hoots and laughter follows. Despite the night and rain, the Doverly residents are following our progress with cheers from windows and open doorways. It’s as if they are watching a racehorse they’d bet on pulling into the lead.

I suppose that’s exactly what our lives are to them. A gamble with a promising payday. And I’d handed it to them.

My chest twists with irony when the four men escorting Kai and me turn us toward the Wishing Well Inn. Instead of allowing us through the main entrance, where multiple voices can be heard, Mercer opens a slanted ground-level cellar door on the side of the building. The rusted metal hinges creak their protest, but unveil a set of slick stone steps descending into darkness. The dank, musty smell of mildew wafts up from below.

Mercer gives me a shove and I nearly fall into the darkness, except for Kai catching my elbow before I can tumble.

“You are alright. Just take one step at a time,” despite his ragged breathing, his touch is preternaturally steady. For now. "I'm right behind you."

I trail my hand along the rough stone wall for balance as I descend into the darkness, the only light coming from a single flickering torch one of the mercenaries carries. There is another door at the bottom.Mercer shoves it open with his boot, revealing a dimly lit cellar. The ceiling is low, supported by rough-hewn wooden beams. Crates and barrels line the damp stone walls, keeping company to sacks of old root vegetables. This must be the cellar I’d heard the mercs mention earlier, but it’s empty now.

Once everyone is past the door, Mercer grabs a set of manacles from a box he must have staged for this very purpose and tosses them at my feet. They clatter, making me flinch.

“Put these on him,” Mercer grunts.

I hesitate, looking at Kai's leg. Blood is still seeping steadily from the wound beneath the torn fabric. "He's?—"

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