Zander clasps his hand over my wrist, stalling me. He leans down to whisper close to my ear, “The only advantage we have over him is that he doesn’t know where you stand.”
An advantage we can lose in a blink. Adrenaline surges through me, and I search for my courage. This is what I was good at—coaxing information out of people who didn’t expect my motives. But I was in my element in my own city, a world away—literally. I was a stranger in a swarm of millions, an innocent nobody with a collection of names I could drop to spark either familiarity or fear. I’ve been off my game since the moment Sofie appeared next to me at that bar, and now I’m pretending to be this guy’s sister. I don’t know who Princess Romeria was, what she was truly like. Everything we know about her was a facade.
“He needs to think you’ve found your way here on your own.”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
“Last cell on the right.”
I leave Zander there, holding my breath as I move on. The deeper I go, the quieter it gets. I count nine more cells before I reach the last at a dead end. I peer into the darkness beyond the barred window, looking for its occupant, but it’s pitch-black inside despite the torch glow by the door.
“Tyree?” I call out in a whisper. Nothing. “Tyree—” I gasp as a bloodied male face suddenly appears, familiar blue eyes staring out at me.
“I thought you’d never come.” His soiled fingers curl around the bars, the nails bitten to the quick. He peers behind me. Looking for guards or companions. “How did you get in here?”
My heart pounds in my chest. “I still have a friend or two.” A lie that he cannot prove otherwise. He looks relatively well. Untortured. “Have they hurt you?”
“Have they hurt me?” he hisses, holding up his arm to show me a fresh gash across his biceps. “I wake up to that demon every morning, slicing me with her blade to weaken me.”
I wince. “Abarrane. She’s scary.” Empathy is always a quick way to assuage fear, to put people at ease so they’ll talk.
“They took Rodrick and Kieve yesterday, and they haven’t brought them back. Are they still alive?” Tyree’s voice is low, and he speaks quickly.
“As far as I know.” I keep my eyes locked on his, fighting the urge to search out Zander in the shadows. I sense him there, his steely gaze on me, his ears pricked, likely for both information and traces of deception on my part. Zander’s right—if I hint that I’m not alone, Tyree will give me nothing. The trick here is to say as little as possible. “I don’t have long—”
“You must get us out of here. We have too much work to do yet.”
“I’m trying, but it’s not easy. They don’t trust me.”
“It seems you’ve fooled them into thinking you are a victim.”
His words squash whatever shred of hope I might have been clinging to that Princess Romeria was framed. Everything Zander has accused her of, she deserves. “Not all of them believe it.”
“But the king does.”
“Barely, I fear sometimes.”
He leans in, pressing his head against the bars. “You said you had everything lined up that night.”
“I did. And then everything went wrong.”
“Mother sent word. She is displeased with our failure.”
Queen Neilina threw her children into enemy territory to steal a throne. Her son was being hunted and her daughter assumed killed, and yet she’s expressing her disappointment? It’s all I can do to not shake my head. “She killed our father.”
“You mean my father and, yes, we both knew she would. The spineless lout would have ended up giving Ybaris to these demons.”
I school my expression. His father. But not Romeria’s?
“We thought you were dead,” Tyree says.
“Obviously, I’m not.”
“Has Ianca contacted you?”
“Ianca …” I repeat, absorbing that name to memory and making sure Zander catches it. “No.” Is that the traitor within the castle?
“She has escaped, along with another. With help from the casters. There were reports that they crossed into Skatrana, so we assume they are on their way here,” he mutters, more to himself.
Not the traitor within the castle, then. Someone from Ybaris? I bite my tongue against the urge to ask who this woman is. Princess Romeria would know. “Why would she come here?”
Loud voices carry on the other end of the dungeon block. Someone is demanding to be let through. It sounds like Atticus. It gives me an excuse to glance that way. Zander’s silhouette lingers behind the torchlight, but I don’t stall there, turning my attention back to Tyree. My window of opportunity to learn something useful is shrinking fast. I move in closer, and the pungent smell of a sour body and foul breath grows stronger. “The vials …”
“Being dispersed as we speak.”
My heart skips a beat. “How many have already gone out?”
“Not as many as we’d hoped. We distributed the last of ours in Bellcross. But it is harder than we anticipated, traveling among these demons. They can smell us from across the room.”
I don’t know if that’s a figure of speech, but it’s a question for Zander for later. Now, I need to focus. “And you’ve targeted the tributaries.” I keep my voice firm—a statement rather than a query.
“The tributaries, the cooks, the blacksmiths. Anyone willing. They are tired of having their kin taken from them.”
Anyone willing. That means this isn’t a case of tributaries being targeted, their blood tainted without their knowledge. They’re finding humans who will voluntarily take the poison. “What happened in Bellcross?”
He shrugs. “We misjudged her. Is it true, what I’ve heard about the marriage to the king?”
“Yes. Next Hudem.”
“So, the fool is still enchanted by you, despite everything you’ve done.” He chuckles darkly. “Obviously, he has not tried feeding on you yet.”
“No.” How does Tyree know about Margrethe’s invocation? Unless … the rumors are right and it wasn’t Margrethe’s invocation to begin with.
“I must get back to the men.”
“Where are they now?”
“Still in the mountains, waiting for my instruction. You must get me out of here.”
Zander was right. They’ve found a hiding place north of Lyndel. “I’m trying, but you poisoned Quill, and that makes it difficult. The royal guard is crawling all over this place.”
Tyree frowns. “Who?”
“Lord Quill, of Innswick. He was poisoned last night, right here in the royal grounds.”
“That wasn’t us. We haven’t risked coming back to Cirilea yet.”
“What about Kettling?” Maybe Adley got hold of a vial in his own city.
He shakes his head. “The river is vast and too well guarded. Who else did you give a vial to?”
I falter on my answer. It’s a mistake. I see it the moment his eyes narrow. “I shouldn’t be down here. This is a big risk.”
“Something is off. You aren’t yourself.” His gaze skitters over my face. “What have they done to you?”