Instead of fingers wrapping around her throat, a cold metal pressed on her skin. She yanked her hands free, but too late to stop the cold from ringing her neck.
As the metal tightened, , Yates leaned closer. “The torque works both ways. To protect and to prevent.”
Seven hells. He’d put a torque on her! A click sounded and her magical connection to everyone was broken.
She clawed at it but it wouldn’t budge. Yates reached for her. Remembering her training, she blocked his arm. Then she countered with a strike with the edge of her hand to his throat. He didn’t even flinch. Instead he crouched down and did a left hook into the back of her right thigh—where he’d stabbed her. His aim was dead on and the intense pain shattered her concentration.
The next thing she knew, she was dangling over his shoulder as he left the cavern. Her hands were free, but he’d hooked his arm over her legs, anchoring her in place. And his fingers dug deeper into her injury every time she squirmed, trying to get free.
It didn’t take long to descend to level ninety-seven. Yates carried her past the guards to the main entrance. The entire level was the Water Prince’s. He brought her to an unfamiliar room—not that she’d seen more than a few the couple times she’d been here. Then he dumped her on the floor.
The impact forced the breath from her lungs with a loud whoosh. Between the pain from her leg and the inability to draw a breath, she expected to pass out—hoped to once she spotted the prince’s black boots standing next to her. But she just wasn’t that lucky. Eventually she recovered and looked up at the prince.
“Knees,” he said.
Yates yanked her up onto her knees.
“Get used to that position,” the prince said to her. “While you serve me, you’ll be on your knees.”
Serve him? Not a comforting thought. Nothing about this was comforting. Except maybe his promise not to kill her.
He glanced at Yates. “Well done, Captain. You’ve redeemed yourself.” Then he met Shyla’s gaze. “I was not pleased with the captain after you escaped. He’s proven quite resourceful since, discovering those protective torques the priestess was using. I hope you like your new necklace. It’s like my sigil, except once it’s clicked into place, there’s no way to open it without a key.” He leaned closer. “It’s thicker, too. No worries that the deacons will cut it off with a pair of metal cutters. And my jeweler added an extra feature. Let me show you. Yates, get the mirror.”
Fear pulsed in her heart. Cut off from her magic, she had no defenses. Yates handed the prince a small rectangular mirror and he angled it so she stared at her reflection.
It wasn’t a necklace. Not even close. It was a collar. Four centimeters wide and engraved with the Invisible Sword’s symbol. On the very front hung a metal ring. That must be the extra feature, but what did it do?
The prince handed the mirror back to Yates, then he pulled out a short chain from his pocket. Before she could react, he snapped one end onto the ring. Then he yanked her forward by the chain so they were almost nose to nose.
“You’re going to regret every problem you ever caused me. And you’re going to use those pretty blue eyes for my benefit only. Understand?”
All ability to speak fled as terror gripped her.
“No? Don’t worry, you will. And don’t think that when I take that necklace off you’ll have a chance to attack me. I’ll be protected and I have a very good imagination when it comes to punishments.” He handed the chain to Yates. “Show her to her new room.”
Yates hauled her to her feet. Unable to resist, she followed two steps behind him. He led her to an almost empty room. In the middle of the floor was a metal anchor, very similar to the one Jayden was currently chained to. If her situation wasn’t so dire, she might have acknowledged the irony. Yates pulled her down and snapped the end of her chain to the anchor.
Before leaving he said, “If you had agreed to work with the prince when he asked you, your accommodations would have been opulent.” He left, sliding the door closed. A thin ribbon of light shone underneath so she wasn’t in complete darkness.
After a few moments to adjust to the rapid change in her fate, Shyla ran her fingers over the collar, down the chain, and over the anchor, seeking weaknesses. The chain was only one meter long, limiting her range and preventing her from standing up straight. But if she knelt it was the perfect length. Instead she sat cross-legged, close to the anchor.
The link that connected to the anchor and the one attached to her collar were the same design. They had a hinge and a small keyhole. Perhaps she had something in her—
Pack! Yates hadn’t taken it from her. It was under her sun cloak, which she also wore. She dug into it. Water skin, pouch of osees, her wrap, a few rolls of jerky, a spider kit, but nothing slender and hooked. She wished she’d brought her cane, although she doubted the tip of the blade would work. For such a tiny lock, the key was probably a simple L-shape.
Once she explored every centimeter of her cell, she’d nothing left to do but think. She used her wrap as a makeshift pillow and stretched out on the hard floor. Her leg throbbed with painful pulses. She considered her chances of being rescued. That was an easy one—zero percent. Moving on, she searched her memories of the fight. She hoped that once Yates left with her, the rest had retreated. A few of the Invisible Swords had been injured, but from what she’d seen, the guards weren’t aiming to kill, which probably meant the prince wasn’t ready to take on the priestess.
She had been ready. They had enough people and, with the disguises, they could have reached the Heliacal Priestess and taken over. Hopefully, Elek had continued with the plan. From level ninety-six, the Invisible Swords would have better access to this level. Maybe there was a slight probability of being rescued. Ten percent? Fifteen? Better than zero.
Despair tried to creep into her thoughts, but she refused to let it in. She’d figure a way out of this eventually. For now, she’d cooperate until the opportunity arrived. Then she’d take it.
They kept her locked in that room for a long time. At least she had some water and food, but other bodily functions needed to be tended to. A mild discomfort turned into a painful pressure. A part of her recognized the effectiveness of this torture. She thought of Jayden living in luxury with plenty of buckets in reach. If he knew about her situation, he’d feel vindicated. He’d plotted with the priestess because he didn’t have faith in the Invisible Sword’s ability to stop the Water Prince. And here she was, his prisoner. Soon to be a wet and smelly one if—
The door slid open. Yates gave her a dispassionate once-over, then unhooked her, yanking her to her feet. Her leg protested and she almost collapsed, but she caught her balance before he towed her from the room.
She touched his arm. “I need to use the collection station.”
He sighed. “I advised the prince to lock you in a black cell, but he wants you close by.”
Remembering the hole in the floor of the cell, the stench, and the cries from the other prisoners, Shyla was glad she avoided that fate. Although that could change at any time.
Yates allowed her to use the servants’ station and then marched her double time to the prince’s throne room. Just like all the leaders from the past, the prince sat on an elaborate marble throne on an elevated dais. Trol lanterns ringed the room, an expensive rug ran from the throne to the entrance, and four water fountains—the most decadent feature—splashed merrily in the corners, the sound incongruous with the tense atmosphere. Colorful tile mosaics decorated the walls around the fountains. It was all very…effective.