Page 60 of The War Queen's Daughter

I’m easing through to the hallway when I hear someone ahead. They’re sneaking, or trying to. A faint thud and a soft swear identify my new visitor, as much as the faint light on his golden hair.

He’s come to the wrong dungeon and betrayed his last princess.

The predator takes over, and I pounce.

Chapter 30

My target has no idea how close he comes to death, though his grunt of surprise and faint cry of fear tell me he is who I think he is, even without the scent of wine and old books to confirm it.

I’d know his body anywhere, senses dulled or not.

“What are you doing here?” I stare down into Altar’s eyes before looking up, crouching over him where he lies prone beneath me. There’s no sound of approaching feet, no rush of guards behind him. Just the dripping and the faint squeak of a rodent back the way I’ve come.

It’s found a feast in Vivenne.

“Remalla.” He exhales, eyes wide, features coming into focus. It’s definitely lighter out, the narrow slit window in the next cell down proof of that. “I came to rescue you.”

I snort, then snarl in his face. “Nice try,” I say, grasping him by the collar of his shirt.

“Rem,” he whispers, fingertips trying to brush my cheek. I bat his arm away. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. When you asked about the kinspark, I thought you were teasing me. Trying to tell me we were…” he chokes. “Soulmates. It’s stupid,” he scowls at himself, shaking his head. “I didn’t even think for a second…” He blinks slowly, falls still and silent, then exhales. “Remalla, your mother.”

“And aunt,” I say, voice flat and dead though I’m aching inside. I push off him, standing back as he rises, making noeffort to help him. I’m taking Vivenne’s warning to heart. “She betrayed us, killed Amber.”

He nods, eyes now wide and voice hushed, though if he thinks he’s being quiet or stealthy, he’s sadly mistaken. “We need to get out of here,” he says. “Come on, this way.” He turns and starts to hurry back the way he came, but stops when he sees I haven’t followed.

I haven’t decided if I’m going to or not. “I might just kill you, too,” I say. “Eliminate a barrier to the throne I’m not supposed to sit. Then go up to the Citadel and cut your father’s throat.” I stalk toward Atlas, chest a knot of hate he doesn’t deserve, but he’s here and a soft target, and I have no one else to blame except myself. I’m doing more than enough of that. “Set fire to all of it. Watch it burn.”

He raises a hand toward me. “Please, Rem. Please. Come with me. We can talk about killing me later.”

It’s the thing that breaks the spell, oddly. He’s not afraid of me. He’s terrified, butforme. And that reaches me, past the predator who fights for control. Atlas’s hand is still out, waiting, patient.

In one move, I step forward and take it. He doesn’t flinch, grasping my fingers like he knew I would never be a threat to him.

He has no idea how close he’s come to dying. And I don’t think I’ll ever tell him.

One of us deserves to stay innocent.

He holds his grip on me firmly, drawing me out of the light and back into pitch blackness, no windows where we find ourselves, though it’s only for a moment. Hinges squeak as metal grinds, and then we’re crouching through a small access door and into the light of day.

“Through here.” It’s some kind of delivery hatch, a low ramp grooved with the ruts of countless carts leading forward and uptoward the dawn. “Hurry. I have a carriage, but we have to be out of the city before anyone finds out I’m gone.”

“Why are you doing this?” I don’t slow my pace, pushing ahead of him, protective all over again, though I’m the one who needs watching over.

“Because,” he says so simply and with a faint hint of surprise, “I love you, Remalla.”

I don’t know what to say to that, the fool, the brilliant, sweet, and lovely fool. It’s pushed aside with the rest of my thoughts for later, though I fear I’ll be overwhelmed when that time comes. So maybe having him with me to keep me from falling apart is a good idea.

It’s not. It’s terrible. And the second I’m on board the carriage, I’m closing the door and sending him away.

He can’t help me anymore, though I will always be grateful that he came for me. Too bad I have to destroy his home, his father, and all that’s been built on lies as repayment.

I wonder if Atlas will forgive me when it’s done.

There’s a bulky shadow ahead, the clomp of hooves loud in the passage as the carriage horse blows steam into the early morning air. I’m mourning Gorgon suddenly, though Atlas will care for him until I can come back and retrieve him.

The last thing I do before I set this place ablaze.

The door of the carriage is near the wall, just enough space for me to squeeze through, but my plan to slam it in Atlas’s face fails, not because I do, but because there’s someone waiting inside who distracts me.

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