I look over my shoulder at my dad, who’s watching every word and every movement but hasn’t interjected. His eyes are full of frustration, and somehow I understand him. Jag would probably use Dad’s concern as an invitation to hurt me.
“He can’t help you, November,” Jag says.
I look back at Jag, whose placid expression hasn’t wavered, and as I meet his eyes, I feel as though I’ve shrunk.
“I’ll put down my weapons if you’ll let the rest of them go,” I say, forcing myself to maintain eye contact.
Jag sighs. “A compromise is essentially a loss. I never barter,” he says, and pauses. “And tell me, what is it that you’re threatening me with in that tiny vial?”
My eyes flit to the poison, terrified of handing it over to Jag.
“It seems I’ve made a very simple request that you are unable to fulfill. Maybe we should just use it on the small one to give you incentive to move things along?” He gestures to Ines and my heart jumps into my throat.
“Angels’ Dream,” I lie.
Jag tilts his head, reading me, and it’s obvious by the way Logan smirks that they both know I’m lying.
I drop the vial and blowpipe, but to my dismay the small vial stays intact. Ash follows my lead and drops his blowpipe and his knife. And in a last act of defiance, I stamp on the glass, smashing the poison and grinding it into the damp floor.
Jag looks me in the eye, and for just a moment his calm expression turns threatening. Then he sighs, like he’s thought better of it. “I’m surprised your father never taught you that an undisciplined mind only leads to suffering.”
“I hope he burns you alive,” Logan murmurs, clearly still bitter about the fire I started in his smithy.
Before I can open my mouth to respond, there is a sharp pain near my temple and the world goes black.
MY EYES FLUTTER, and before I can bring my surroundings into focus, the rank smell of the dungeon sends me into a coughing fit. I attempt to put my hand to my mouth, but my arm is met with the resistance of cold metal. I follow the line of my arm above my head and find that my wrists are spread in a wide V and shackled to the wall. Shackles, dungeon…Dad. The events of the past twenty-four hours flood my thoughts and my eyes widen with a jolt. Shackled on my left are Ines and Aarya. Ines is still passed out, but Aarya is alert. To my right Ash is frowning in concentration. But my dad is nowhere to be seen.
“Ash?” I say, and my voice cracks. “Where is he? Where’s my dad?”
Ash shakes his head, but before he can answer, Aarya starts talking.
“Lower your voice,” she scolds, and I can tell she’s in a particularly foul mood. “Do what Ash and I have been doing—seethe in silence.”
Ash snaps back at her. “We’re shackled to a wall in a dungeon, Aarya. Sneaking around is a moot point.”
“Which I’m sure you blame me for,” she says, her tone increasingly acerbic.
Ash doesn’t answer right away, and I can’t tell if it’s because he’s angry or concentrating. Aarya scowls.
“No, actually I don’t,” he finally replies, and we both turn to him in surprise. Ash doesn’t think Aarya betrayed us—how is that possible?
“However suspicious I find your behavior, and however foolish it was to make a deal with Logan,” Ash says, “I can’t ignore the fact that Jag was lying. He doesn’t give off normal tells; in fact he displays the opposite of normal indicators. He shows pleasure every time he lies. But a lie is a lie.”
“My bargain with Logan was meant to pay him off and prevent him from going to the Lions, not cause him to,” Aarya says, indignant.
“Also not lost on me,” Ash says. “It was obvious how much Logan was enjoying outwitting you.”
“Sociopath,” Aarya grumbles, but some of her frustration drops away. As much as she tries to hide it, I think our opinion of her really matters, even Ash’s, and even in this moment when we’re chained to a wall in the Lion Family dungeon.
“Pitting us against each other is just another way to manipulate and dominate us,” Ash says. “And Jag is clearly a master manipulator.”
“My dad,” I say again, and this time it’s Aarya who answers.
“We’re in the opposite corridor,” she says, and my heart sinks. “The one Ines and I were ambushed in.”
I look up at my shackles, pulling at the cold metal, but they’re secured tightly around my wrists with almost no wiggle room. I pull again, anger surging in my chest—anger that we’re shackled to a wall like criminals in the Dark Ages, anger that I was ripped away from my dad the moment I found him, anger that my aunt was murdered and my mother before her. Just anger. I yank harder, the metal grating against my skin, and let out a frustrated grunt.
“Although we did manage to take out three of the guards before they restrained us. I noticed you didn’t take down a single one of yours,” Aarya says. Most people wouldn’t be keeping a petty tally over fighting skills, given her screw-up with Logan. But then again, Aarya isn’t most people.
“For someone who doesn’t want other people to talk, you certainly do a lot of it,” Ash says, giving Aarya the side eye.
“Well, in case you were wondering, I still don’t like you, either, Ashai,” she says, but her voice betrays her.
“How did Jag know?” I ask in a huff, and they both turn to me.
“How did Jag know what?” Aarya says.
“That Ash didn’t trust you?” I ask. “If Ash is right that Jag is manipulating us, how did he know that might work, that we might believe you sold us out to Logan?”
“I’m a Jackal,” Aarya says like it explains everything. “The rest of Strategia aren’t fond of the fact that we don’t play by their rules. And we get blamed for all kinds of things we didn’t do. Instigating World War One, for instance.”
I frown. I actually do remember Layla telling me that at the Academy.
“It doesn’t help that your Family is always up to something,” Ash says.
“That, too,” Aarya concedes, making it sound like a good thing. “And rat-faced, two-timing jerk-offs like Logan don’t do us any favors, either.”
I frown, remembering what Logan said about burning us alive. I’m certain that even if Aarya is responsible for Logan tracking us, I share in the blame because I antagonized him with that fire. “Do you think it’s possible that Logan told Jag?” I ask, and Ash and Aarya look at me. “Ash, you said Logan was a skilled tracker, right? What if he followed us through the Market? He could have easily waited outside that shop, listening to us. I mean, you two had an argument about trust.” But the moment I say it, a wave of anxiety hits me. Layla was supposed to follow us. What if Logan found her? I look at our restraints. We’re still here, shackled to a wall with Layla nowhere in sight. What if he hurt her? What if he killed her? Ash didn’t even know she was here; he has no idea anything is wrong.
“Possible,” Ash concedes. “In fact, likely. Logan is exactly the type to pass along that information. But it’s why Jag used it that worries me.”
Ash’s agreement only sinks me further into my anxiety.
“You think there’s a reason besides Jag wanting to kill us and win?” Aarya says.
“I do,” Ash says. “I think Jag’s playing a more complex game than we thought and I want to know what it is.”
“Well, lucky for you, you’ll probably find out before you die,” Aarya says, but no one is in the mood for her morbid sense of humor. I’m barely even listening, my fear for Layla and my dad eclipsing everything else.
I glance at Ash, feeling torn over telling him about Layla—if I panic him I could throw him off focus and take away any chance, however slight, of him getting out of here alive. But is this secret really one I can keep to myself?
“Ash?” I start, but when he looks at me I change my mind. “What do we need to do to pick these locks?” I say
instead.
He shakes his head. “I haven’t been able to figure that out. They stripped us of everything that could potentially be useful.”
I examine my zippers and the metal accents on my boots, but none of them would work. I scan the communal cell, taking a proper look for the first time. The floors are filthy with grime. There are a couple of crude beds made of hay, and a variety of unpleasant restraints. Plus, there is a pot in the corner that I hope like hell I won’t have to use. But nothing that even resembles metal for lock picking, not that we could reach it if there were.
I look again at my jeans and my hoodie and frown. My coat’s gone and so are my weapons, even the ones stashed in my boots.
“How long have I been asleep?” Ines asks in a groggy voice as she blinks at us.
“We’re not sure,” Aarya says. “My best guess is that they used some of our darts on us—knocked us out for a few hours.”
“Agreed,” Ash says. “Which would make it sometime in the early morning, but given the lack of windows it’s impossible to know.”
Ines looks up at her arms spread out on either side of her head. “Well, that’s a problem.”
“Ya think?” Aarya says.
“I have a pin tucked into my hair,” Ines says, and we all turn to look at her like she just proposed. “I’ve carried one ever since Blackwood nearly suffocated you with that locked mask, Aarya.”
Aarya’s expression softens with a sweetness that’s completely out of keeping with our current situation, and completely out of keeping with Aarya in general.
“And the lightning poison dart,” Ines adds, and I could cry from relief.
Aarya leans forward to give Ash a vindicated look.
“But with my arms spread like this,” Ines says, “I can’t actually reach either.” Ines turns first to Aarya, then to me. “So the only way we’ll be able to retrieve them is if you two work together.”
For a split second I’m not sure what she means. But when I examine our positioning, it clicks—there is only one way we could possibly finagle a pin out of her hair. “Our feet?”
“Toes, to be precise,” Aarya says, kicking off her left boot. “Where’s the pin, Ines?”
“In my right braid,” Ines says. “A few inches back from my temple.”
“I think I see where you mean,” I say.
Aarya nods. “If you can grab the braid and hold it in place, Ember, I’ll push the pin out from my side.” She steps on her sock with her right boot and pulls her left foot out of it, wiggling her toes.
I stare at my boots, which are laced up tightly and not easily removable. And with my hands splayed out like this, they are nearly impossible to reach.
“If you put your foot by mine, I can untie it with—” Ash offers, but I cut him off.
“They’re double-knotted,” I say.
“You double-knot your laces?” Ash asks like he might be amused by this discovery if we were in any other situation than this one.
“I didn’t know anyone over the age of ten did that,” Aarya says.
“People who don’t want their laces to come untied do it,” I reply, frowning at my feet.
“Clearly,” Aarya says.
“Can you get your boot up to your hand?” Ash asks.
“Honestly, I don’t know if I can fold my body like that,” I say, doubtful. “But I’ll give it a try.”
I shinny my back straight against the wall and brace my arms to give me some leverage. Then I raise my straightened right leg up and to the side. Unfortunately, I’m not quite flexible enough and I’m struggling to get my boot to my fingers. I strain for all I’m worth, pushing it closer inch by inch. I manage to grasp a loop of my laces with the tips of my fingers. However, I lose my grip and my leg falls back to the floor with a thud.
I take a frustrated breath and give it another go. Only this time Ines kicks her leg over, pushing it against the back of mine and propping it up. And it does the trick. With my laces now in reach, I grab the center knot and pull it out. But before I can yank on the loops, Jag appears on the other side of the bars with four guards behind him, one of whom is the tall bouncer from the pub.
I drop my leg to the floor, but it’s too late. Jag’s already taken note of my positioning and Aarya’s bare foot.
“Oh no, don’t stop on my account,” Jag says as the bouncer unlocks the cell door.
The sound of his voice chills me.
“I had come down here to make you aware of the festivities,” he says like we’re guests and not prisoners. “But I see you’re already playing a game of your own.”
None of us moves or attempts to speak.
Jag steps into the cell. His silver hair is neatly arranged around his face, his black clothes are impeccable, and the cloak he wears around his shoulders is lined with deep red velvet.
Jag positions himself in front of Ines. “Now let’s see what we have here.” He eyes Aarya’s bare foot and my partially untied laces. “Given your bare feet, I assume Ines has something she can’t reach, something useful, perhaps something she might…pick a lock with?” The way he uses our names like we’re all familiar to him is unnerving. He waits a beat. “Yes, I believe that’s exactly right. The question is, where is this mysterious item, and how shall we find it?”
When no one answers, he concentrates on Ines. “Not in your boots, I imagine, or you would just have taken them off. And my guards searched your clothes.”
Aarya looks like she wants to murder him.
“No,” Jag says. “I think whatever you’ve hidden must be somewhere in…your hair.” His assessment is that of an expert strategist, with a reasoned tone to match, yet his words cut like a knife. “I think we’d better check, don’t you?”
Two of his guards approach Ines, and as they do, Aarya kicks the one closest to her in the knee. The guard grunts, and before she can pull her leg back a second time, he backhands her so hard her lip splits.
Aarya spits the blood on the floor, confirming what I imagined the grime in here might consist of. “Lion guards who let a chained prisoner get a kick in,” she says. “Tsk, tsk.”
The blood drains from my face. Damn it, Aarya, why are you egging them on? But the moment I think the question, I know the answer—to distract them from Ines. And I respect her for it, no matter how risky and incendiary it might be. She’s fearlessly standing up for her friend—sister, really. Jag must realize why she’s doing it, too, or maybe he just realizes Aarya loves a reaction, because he doesn’t bother responding to her; he doesn’t even spare her a look.
Instead, he focuses all his energy on Ines. The guards unshackle her and drag her forward, pushing her to her knees. They undo her braids and the lightning poison falls to the floor.
Jag picks it up, turning it curiously in his fingers. “Well,” he says, clearly pleased. “This looks remarkably like the vial you smashed on the floor last night, November. Interesting how things work out sometimes, isn’t it?”
He looks me in the eye, and even though his expression remains unchanged, I can’t shake the feeling that maybe they did search our hair—that they searched it and he knew what was there, choosing instead to intimidate us. His warning rings in my head: an undisciplined mind only leads to suffering.
“While I’m intrigued by a substance that is so precious you would destroy it rather than give it to me, I don’t imagine that poison will aid you in your current situation,” he says, pulling out his knife and lifting Ines’s chin with it. “So I think it only prudent that we search a little further.”
My whole body tenses and I steal a fearful glance at Aarya.
“I remember you,” Jag says to Ines, his tone unwaveringly calm and sure. “You’re that little Fox girl whom I let live, aren’t you?”
Ines’s expression remains neutral, but her eyes burn with hatred. I know Jag sees it, too,
because he nods at her.
“Such a shame,” he says as though she disappoints him. “I remember receiving a report that your family went down rather easily. I would have thought them harder to kill.” Anger sparks in my chest. His tone is polite and his cruelty is effortless.
My wrists throb, and I realize I’m straining against my shackles, like maybe I could break them off the wall by force. And instantly I realize Aarya was right; Jag is a monster that needs to be removed from power by any means necessary.
“But enough reminiscing,” Jag says. “We’ve got a little problem-solving to do.” Without warning, he grabs a handful of Ines’s hair and slices cleanly through it near her scalp.
I gasp before I can stop myself, frantically searching for a way to keep him from hurting Ines. “It must be difficult to be so lacking in the, uh…manhood department,” I say.
Aarya chuckles.
“I mean, this is a lot of effort to go through just to show us that you’re tough,” I continue. “Maybe next time you should try something other than giving a girl a haircut while two guards hold her down?”
Jag looks me square in the eye. “You do know your emotions show on your face? That I know this distresses you, that I distress you,” he says, and slices off another chunk of Ines’s hair. “It’s a disappointment, really. I was hoping that if I had a granddaughter who was clever enough to sneak in here, she might also be good at deception. But then again, it’s better not to get attached to toys you can’t keep.” He slices at Ines’s hair again, and he must nick her scalp this time because a dribble of blood runs down her temple. “Oh dear. It seems you’ve distracted me and I’m not looking where I’m cutting,” he says, slicing off the last remaining section.
He drops the red locks on the floor in front of her. Jag nods to the guards to put Ines back in her shackles, and this time Aarya doesn’t take a swing at them. We all remain perfectly silent.
“Take the hair,” he orders the guard with the mustache. “Find whatever they were hiding.”
Hunting November Page 32
