Capture (13 page)

Nykin sucked in a breath. “I’m going to let myself be captured by the lowland soldiers in order to help rescue Ryneq.” He waited, muscles tensed and eyes fixed firmly on the ground. Nykin really didn’t want to see any disappointment in Fimor’s eyes.

A soft huff of breath wafted over Nykin’s face. He looked up, startled to see that Fimor had moved closer and his head was now directly in front of him.

“Yes, the old castle at Risvery would not be easy to attack. I’m not surprised that this is how you plan to rescue him.”
Fimor swept his tail around and nudged Nykin in the shin.
“Nor am I surprised that it is you who has volunteered. Given your… feelings for the king.”

“I don’t have
feelings
for him,” Nykin scoffed, forgetting he wasn’t alone and causing Eldin to raise an eyebrow at him. Although Nykin was immensely thankful that Eldin couldn’t hear Fimor’s end of the conversation, he was pretty sure that Eldin had gotten the gist of it anyway. “He’s my king, Fimor. I just want to help get him out alive.”

“Yes, he is your king. And I will do whatever I can to help you do that.”

“You mean you’re not angry with me?” Nykin lifted his hand to Fimor’s neck and let his fingers smooth over the warm red scales. “Even though I’ll be putting my life at risk?” He closed his eyes again and let the bond wrap around him, relaxing under the soft thrum of its magic.

“No, Nykin. I am not angry. It’s a very brave and noble thing, to risk one’s life to save that of another. I am proud of you.”

“Thank you,” Nykin whispered, before letting his hand fall away and stepping back. He opened his eyes and looked back over at Eldin. “What now?”

Eldin pushed himself off the wall and walked over to join them, a small smile on his face. “I take it Fimor was neither surprised nor angry at your news?”

Nykin blushed a little under his scrutiny. “No.”

“I didn’t think he would be.” Eldin paused, and looked between the two of them. “How strong is your bond, Nykin?”

“Strong enough. Why?”

Eldin focused on Fimor. “Fimor, how close do you need to be for your connection with Nykin to work?”

“Ask him what he has in mind, Nykin. Our bond is as strong as it needs to be.”

Nykin dutifully relayed the question, and Eldin proceeded to tell Fimor about the plan to ambush the Rodethians and Athisians. “Do you know the place I’m talking about? The river on one side, sea on the other?” Eldin looked to Nykin, as he waited for Fimor’s answer.

“Tell him I know the place he means. And yes, our bond is strong enough to work over that distance and more. You remember how to talk to me in your head, don’t you Nykin? I know how much you like the sound of your own voice.”

Nykin grinned and rolled his eyes, thankful for Fimor’s attempt at lightening the mood.
“Yes, I’ve not forgotten.
And you know it’s you who likes the sound of my voice, not me.”

Fimor huffed his denial and turned to face out at the sky, while Nykin relayed everything else back to Eldin.

“So,” Eldin said, after they’d discussed the plan some more. “We set off at first light tomorrow.” He looked at Nykin and grimaced.

“What?” Nykin asked.

“There’s one more thing to take care of.” Eldin reached out and tugged on Nykin’s hair. “The palace guard do not have long hair.”

Nykin felt the blood drain from his face. Dragon riders were known for their magical marks and long hair. He would feel incredibly bare without either of them tomorrow.

“It will grow back, Nykin.”
Fimor’s voice was firm but gentle.

Nykin sighed
. “I know that. It’s just I will already be hiding my mark. If I cut my hair, then….”
He knew he was being foolish, considering everything else he would be facing tomorrow. No wonder Eldin had said he wouldn’t be recognized.

“Nykin?” Eldin interrupted his thoughts, and Nykin realized he’d been talking to Fimor in his head. Something that he never normally did when other people were present.

“Sorry. Do we need to do it now?”

“I think that would be best. We need to leave at first light tomorrow.”

Nykin moved closer to Fimor and rested his forehead against the side of Fimor’s neck. “Good night, Fimor. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Nykin.”

Nykin watched Fimor leap out into the now-darkening sky and disappear up the mountain before he turned to follow Eldin back down to the palace.

T
HEY
DIDN
’
T
come for him until sunup two days later.

Ryneq carefully placed the cup back into the pail of water as he heard the footsteps out in the passage. He’d spent the last day flinching at every sound outside his cell, expecting the door to burst open at any moment. The lack of action had set him on edge at first, fraying his nerves, but the tension had slowly drained away with each passing hour they left him alone. He’d given up trying to predict what Hatak and Seran had in mind for him. He stood and looked out the window, marveling at how peaceful it seemed on the outside. The air smelled crisp and fresh, and he could hear the early-morning birds singing in nearby trees.

The lock on his door clicked undone, and Ryneq turned to face his fate as the door swung slowly open. The same two guards as before appeared in the doorway, and Ryneq assumed they were permanently assigned to watch him.

They both sneered at him as they came inside. “Come on, they’re waiting for you.”

One of them walked forward and grabbed Ryneq roughly by his upper arm, pulling on his shoulder. The ache wasn’t as bad as yesterday, but it still made Ryneq grunt from the pain.

The guards laughed. “That’ll be the least of your worries after Hatak’s finished with you.”

Ryneq ignored them, refusing to react to their words, even if he knew they were probably true. He wasn’t about to show them how much he was dreading this. He straightened his back and lifted his chin, acting every bit like the king he was, as they walked him down through the passageways.

They led him to the same room as before. Hatak was already in there, but Ryneq’s stomach fell when he couldn’t see Seran. At least Seran had wanted to keep him alive for the moment. “Good morning,
Your Highness
.” Hatak gestured to the chair in the middle of the room. “Won’t you take a seat?” Ryneq made no effort to move, but the guards shoved him forward and manhandled him into a sitting position. “Tie him to the chair.”

Ryneq’s arms were fastened to the arms of the chair with thick rope, and the rough edges cut into the skin at his wrists when they yanked it tight. He tracked Hatak’s movements out of the corner of his eye. The Athisians and Rodethians may have formed an alliance, but he wasn’t sure who was taking the lead as far as his interrogation was concerned. Hatak watched Ryneq from the far side of the room, tapping his finger on his bottom lip as if deep in thought.

He walked over to Ryneq and circled around him. “You certainly look better today. Your wounds are healing nicely.” He ran a hand over Ryneq’s injured shoulder and leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Which is good. I wouldn’t want you to pass out before I’m finished with you.”

Ahh, so that’s why they’d left him alone yesterday. Ryneq bit down the urge to respond. Hatak was deliberately baiting him, but he wasn’t going to make this easy for them. He probably should give in and let his temper free, since there was virtually no hope of being rescued. His only option was to get Hatak to kill him before he was forced to reveal any of Torsere’s secrets, but his promise to his sister wouldn’t let him. Not yet anyway.

As Hatak took a step back, he dug his fingers into the wound on Ryneq’s shoulder and squeezed. Ryneq hissed at the pain and gritted his teeth to stop himself from crying out.

“I’m under strict orders to go easy on you today,” Hatak said. “Seran wants to keep you in one piece for some reason.” He grinned, sliding his knife out from its sheath and admiring it. “But I’ve never been one to follow orders.” He nodded to the guards, and Ryneq suddenly found his head forced back, exposing his throat. “I’ll ask you one more time—and believe me when I say I really hope you don’t answer—where is Cerylea?”

R
YNEQ
’
S
HEAD
hung down between his shoulders, eyes barely open as they dragged him back to his cell. He hurt all over and was a little light-headed from loss of blood, but he was under no illusions—it would have been a lot worse if Seran hadn’t come in and interrupted them.

He barely registered the fact that they’d arrived, slumping against the door as they briefly let him go to open it.

“Someone’ll be along later to dress your wounds,” the guard muttered under his breath, and Ryneq vaguely remembered Seran barking orders about looking after their prisoner.

He collapsed face-first onto the narrow cot and closed his eyes. The rumors about Hatak were obviously true—he liked to play with his prisoners. He’d been thorough. Ryneq didn’t think any part of his body had been left untouched, and after the first half an hour, Hatak didn’t even seem pay attention to Ryneq’s answers. His gaze fixated on the sight of Ryneq’s blood. He’d started with his knife, making small, shallow cuts, and left them to bleed as he moved on to using his fists. Ryneq gingerly licked at his lip, his tongue tracing the split down the middle, and he winced at the metallic tang of blood. He was thirsty, so thirsty it almost hurt to swallow, but he wasn’t sure he had the energy to move and get himself a drink.

Ryneq dozed for a little while, his mind running over and over what had happened, as if to reassure himself that he hadn’t actually given them anything worthwhile. Oh, he’d talked, probably more than he was comfortable with, but everything he’d said was common knowledge anyway. Hatak had only asked about Cerylea once, clearly not expecting Ryneq to tell them yet, and had concentrated instead on asking about the elves and the dragon riders.

He was particularly interested in the dragon riders’ bonds with their dragons.
Was it a blood bond? Were rituals performed?
Ryneq had caught the look in Hatak’s eye and had silently prayed that he never got his hands on either a dragon or a rider. Hatak had also asked about Cerylea’s proposed marriage and what the elves had promised Torsere. That was when Seran had walked in.

Ryneq had refused to answer for the third time, and he’d been positive that Hatak was about to break some of his fingers, but Seran had yelled at Hatak to step away and get a hold of himself. That had been the end of the interrogation, and Seran had sent Ryneq back to his cell.

He startled when the door slowly creaked open. From this angle he could only make out a small pair of feet and the bottom of a dress. Definitely not one of the soldiers, then. Ryneq carefully rolled onto his back and propped himself up onto his elbows. “Hello.” It took him a couple of attempts to get the word out, and his voice still sounded hoarse in the end.

The girl didn’t look very old, no more than fifteen or sixteen, and it was the first time Ryneq had seen anyone but soldiers here. She may have been young, but her face was set in grim determination, and there was no sign of shyness or hesitancy when she approached him.

“Are you thirsty?” she asked, gesturing over to the pail next to his bed. She didn’t wait for a response, already bending down to scoop up some water and handing it to him.

Ryneq took it from her and drained the cup, moaning in relief as the cool liquid filled his mouth. “Thank you,” he offered after she’d passed him a refill. He sipped this one more slowly, watching the girl over the rim of the cup.

“They sent me to tend to your wounds,” she said, by way of explanation. “I’m Cassia.” She reached forward to remove what was left of Ryneq’s shirt, and he automatically leaned away from her touch, causing her to roll her eyes. “I just want to clean them,” she huffed, reaching out again.

He raised an eyebrow at her, wincing slightly as it pulled at a cut across his forehead. “Do you know who I am?”

Cassia sighed but stopped what she was doing to regard him with a soft expression. “Does it make a difference?” Ryneq continued to look at her. “Fine. You are King Ryneq of Torsere. But that matters little to me. I still have to clean your cuts.” She pulled a bowl of water toward her and dipped in a cloth before carefully wiping at Ryneq’s injuries.

Ryneq let her work in silence, closing his eyes and lying back on the bed. When she’d finished with his front, applying bandages to the worst of the cuts, she quietly asked him to turn over.

“Why bother with all this?” Ryneq waved a hand over his chest as he shifted over onto his front. “You know as well as I do that it’ll only happen again tomorrow.” He hissed as she worked on the cuts covering his back.

“I overheard King Seran telling Hatak that he couldn’t kill you just yet.” Cassia rinsed out the cloth and sat back on her heels. “That’s probably the only thing keeping you alive right now.” She stood up and shook out her skirt. “There, I’ve done all I can.”