Air rushed past her in an eerie wail.
Was this the sum of her life? Of her foolish dreams?
Poor Cisuré. She wouldn’t be seeing her after—
Someone crouched by her, seemingly uncaring of the raging storm. Fingers brushed the end of her braid, followed by a rough intake of breath.
“Fuck!” Anger laced a beautiful, familiar voice. She tried and failed to place it. “Damn it to the ten hells. Why is she here?” He felt for her pulse and cursed, and she knew that she wasn’t going to survive.
Her good eye blinked, squinted, trying to make out his face. Several yards behind the man—she still couldn’t remember his name—she saw Cisuré staring at her, petrified. Her mouth opened in what looked like a sob.
Then, she ran away.
Sarai slipped back into oblivion. When she reemerged, another man had joined the first one.
“Drenevan, this is unforgivable!” The man sounded horrified. “What have you done? Her face is gone.”
“Get her another.”
“You surely don’t think she can be rebuilt after this? Anyone who sees her—”
“Can be bought.”
“This is the last time I’ll cover for you. Never again!”
A bitter chuckle. The scrape of boots. “If only that were true. Leave her, she’s gone.”
“She’s still alive!” the other man roared. “She might live if we take her to a healer.”
“She won’t.” His voice held no doubt. “And she doesn’t matter, so long as I get to Aelius.”
Shoes ground against stone, and she knew the man with the beautiful voice had vanished, and though she didn’t understand why, something inside of her split at the sound of his fading footsteps.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Her wrists and ankles were a mess of blackened flesh. The cell stank of blood, rot, and bodily fluids. But Sarai couldn’t bring herself to care. She finally knew the truth.
She doesn’t matter, so long as I get to Aelius.
She leaned against the bars and listened for movement in the adjoining cell. He was there, but he hadn’t said a word since they’d been thrown in here. She drew her knees tighter against her chest, only vaguely able to recall the chaos that had ensued after Kadra’s revelation.
Aelius laughing. Kadra hoarsely begging her to breathe. Cisuré dropping the blade, a triumphant gleam in her eyes. It had abruptly winked out at Aelius’s next words.
“Lock them up.”
Oh, how Cisuré’s jaw had dropped then. The pleas had begun. Hadn’t she brought Kadra to him, as promised? Had he agreed that Sarai would be spared?
Divorced from her body, Sarai had dispassionately watched Aelius shrug ruefully.
“I’m sorry, my dear. But she’s as much a part of this as he is.”
And then, for the sheer amusement of it, he’d beaten Kadra bloody before his vigiles carted Sarai away.
She eyed the flickering candle stub by their cells, dreading what would happen when it went out and left them at the rodents’ mercy.
She’d considered escape for the first minute of her imprisonment, before spotting the thin ropes of lightning crossing the arched entryway into their cellblock. That avenue closed, she steadied her fingers against the brick wall, pouring magic into the lesions around her wrists and ankles. Some healed. Some didn’t.
Drained of energy and magic, she cast a glance at the wall between their cells. He still hadn’t made a sound.