Pain gouged her heart and contorted her face. “Why would anyone do that? And would your maimanne let them?”
“Because she was told I was dead too.”
“By the blessed Creator.” Jayd wrapped her arms around the thousand emotions stabbing her stomach. “Why?”
The woman’s face gained some new creases, though they were vastly different than the tension lines of before. For the first time, Jayd detected some true conflict from the decisive warrioress.
“We have to get going, okay?” she decreed. “Come on.” She yanked on Jayd’s elbow, hauling her toward the tunnel that extended off the other side of the weapons room. “We should’ve been on the move already.”
“Get going where?” Jayd made the demand despite her compliance with the stranger’s new guidance. “And why? You know that Carris has been apprehended now, yes? My brother Samsyn and his team—”
“Have done nothing to change anything,” the woman cut in. “You know that already, yes?”
Jayd forced down a heavy breath as they entered a second chamber. Its linear footprint nearly matched the weapons room but was outfitted with basic armoires along the sides. At one point in time, the pieces were likely a sturdy storage solution for the soldiers who deployed from here. Tonight, Jayd was stunned that their footfalls were not causing the wardrobes to crumple apart.
“Yes,” she finally confessed. “I know,” she insisted. “I know.”
And now, more than ever before, she did know.
To the extent that she should have known long before this.
Enough to not be traipsing down secret palais tunnels in search of men who wanted nothing to do with her anymore. And then finding them and letting them strip her naked anyway. Letting them tease her body the same way they toyed with her heart. And yes, letting them do all that when a hundred of Carris’s men were still infiltrating all the corners of the palais, on the hunt for her. Even getting on all fours and begging them for it…
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
“Good. That’s really good.” The female next to her, obviously reining in her gazelle stride so Jayd could keep up, also had Jayd scrambling to connect the words to the correct subject. “Because there aren’t a lot of hiding places around here that those bastards don’t know about yet. And if I’m going to get you to one quickly, you’ve got to trust me implicitly.”
“Done.” As Jayd emphasized it with a small squeeze to the woman’s shoulder, they synced determined nods. “Though at the risk of rousing the elephant in the tunnel, perhaps I should know your real name?”
“Of course,” she murmured. “You can call me—”
“Darling.”
The interruption, for all its drawling silk, might as well have been a monster’s roar. It clawed the same reaction through Jayd’s body, making her skitter back as if trapped in a nightmare with the creature.
In true nightmare style, the beast only seemed to get closer. Too late, she recognized it was because Trystan Carris had snuck up behind them.
But how…?
She was also too late to squelch the question from her lips. The second it spilled out, Trystan tossed back his head with an amused chuckle.
“How indeed?” he crooned. “Do you and your brothers really believe yourselves the only ones with fancy spy toys and crafty American friends?” He backed up his meaning by nodding toward the Power Ranger. “Wonderful work, my dear.” A funny tsk vibrated in his throat. “And just think, you once insisted you would never see things our way.”
“That was a long time ago, Seigndim. Can we not speak of it anymore?”
Jayd’s breath clutched once more. It was sucked in by the chaos in her chest, where rational thought collided with her darkest fears. But where else could it go as she fought to process this insane twist?
How had Trystan escaped from Syn’s men? Or was he ever in their custody at all?
And was this really her brave, intrepid Power Ranger friend, referring to the monster with a high honorific of the Arcadian language—and doing it with a simpering smile that belonged in a housewives’ magazine from a hundred years ago?
How was any of this actually happening?
Had her instincts failed her that horrifically? Had she truly fallen for a stranger’s maudlin tale just because she wanted it to be true? Seriously, who in this world was actually held captive in a coma and then inducted into a rogue resistance gang to the point of being forced to accept their tattoo?
Apparently, the woman who begged her with silent desperation to believe it all over again.
Even as Trystan stepped over and forced Jayd’s wrists together. Also during the moments that he wrapped and tightened zip ties around them.
Even after that, Power Ranger was relentless about her wordless pleas for Jayd’s understanding. Jayd conveyed her answer by squeezing her eyes shut. Who could she believe anymore? And did it even matter?
Imbezak. Imbezak. Imbezak.
Imbécile. Imbécile. Imbécile.
Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.
She was well on her way to kicking herself in more languages, when interrupted by her own pained yelp. The ties sliced deeper into her wrists as soon as Trystan yanked on their middle joint, dragging her to stand against the cold stone wall. He did not force Power Ranger to do the same, though the woman looked as if she longed for nothing more. By the time Trystan stomped back over to her, defined quivers racked her whole frame. They intensified as Trystan pressed in on her with a predatory purr.
“You do not wish to speak of it anymore, darling?” He leaned in tighter, thumbing the underside of the woman’s chin like a dog trainer about to snap a muzzle on his errant retriever. “My goodness, why? Those who do not remember the past are doomed to repeat it. Or so some wise person said, somewhere. Perhaps you remember who, Your Highness?”
Jayd barely lifted her head from her protective cower. It was no surprise to find the bonsun waiting, his sickening smile at the ready.
“How are you here?” she spat. “And if you truly think you are going to achieve any of your objectives like this—”
“Jayd.” The brutal slice did not belong to him this time. “You need to shut the hell up, girlfriend.”
“Ahhh!” As Trystan crowed it, he kneaded Power Ranger’s chin with growing fervor. “And here I was seeking wise people, when I already have one at the tip of my thumb.”
A scream fulminated in Jayd’s throat again. But she gulped it down, hoping it made its way past her frozen digestive tract. The ice invaded deeper as soon as she watched Trystan drag his thumb downward, marring her friend’s flawless olive skin.
Her friend?
She grimaced, forcing herself to accept the admission. The woman was as much a fly in Trystan’s damn web as she. Trapped and struggling—especially as the man caressed across her tattoo. When his fingers covered the mark, he pressed in with deliberate force. The woman trembled, appearing ready to throw up. Jayd shook in abject empathy.
“Hmm. What lovely sounds you make, darling.” He ran his tongue across his bottom lip before stretching out his other fingers, wrapping them against the front of her neck. “Perhaps my kinky little salpu wants to show our princess all the ways we have fun in the Pura?”