Such a Daring Endeavor (14 page)

But Tyrus is already moving on. He and another soldier drag Talon back into the cell he was in before. “Lock him in,” Tyrus orders before crossing to where Odis is putting his equipment back into their various black cases, rolling up cords in a long weave along his elbow and hand. Tyrus claps the boy on the back and begins speaking to him in low tones.

Adrian Naylor—his gold tooth jutting out of his wicked grin—steps forward, sliding a metal strip over his knuckles. First one hand, then the other. Talon is frozen, hunched over on the floor as if he’s no longer cognizant.

Naylor glowers, sauntering toward me, readying his fist.

I
back away on the soiled floor, praying, calling my magic, but nothing happens. Naylor’s boots tromp through the muck. They’re almost to me.

“I have the tears!” I cry in a pathetic attempt to divert him. “Kill me, and you’ll never know where they are.”

Tyrus’s laugh rumbles, echoing through the chamber. “I already know where they are, Miss Csille.”

“Miles,” Talon says in desperation, pushing himself shakily up on his hands. “Help us!”

Odis ignores him and secures the clasp on another case, leaving no evidence that a heated conversation took place minutes before.

“Ambry,” Talon says. “Tyrus, don’t do this.”

Tyrus leans in toward Naylor, and though he’s speaking to the shorter man, his eyes are on Talon. “Kill her and let him watch. Then come find me.”

“As you wish, sir,” Naylor says, golden tooth gleaming from his malignant smile.

“Talon!” I cry as I’m being backed into the cell beside his. “What do I do? Talon, please!”

All at once the tears pound hard at my skull like they used to. A sound warning—a goodbye, perhaps. Unknowingly, I start to hum—out of nerves, out of unease, I’m not sure, but the hum climbs its way up my throat, soft and barely perceptible.

Talon drags himself toward the bars separating my cell from his. “Adrian,” he says in an accent so like his father’s it’s uncanny.

Naylor only sneers harder, closing the cell door behind him and securing himself in with me. There’s no escape. Even if I didn’t have shackles around my wrists, I can’t get past him now.

Fear takes form in my ribs, plucking them like a harp and becoming more audible the closer he gets. Naylor cocks his head to one side, then the other, a low crack escaping each time.

The air turns hazy with my humming, the sound teasing the hair on my arms and thrumming between the metal bars of this cage. Behind Naylor, Odis reels, eyes glassed over. He tilts, using the wall for a crutch. For a moment, confusion strikes.

Estelle said it was a one-time only
.

I wasted the sirens’ song on my brother, and even then, it hadn’t worked the way I planned. Still, the harp strings in my chest come to life like a flower branching out its petals at the first break of sunlight. Momentarily, I reach behind to feel for wings, but as far as I can tell I’m still me.

Naylor sniggers, advancing toward me. Panic overtakes me, but the song is stronger, pulsing its way up, leaking out of my lips in ghostly tones. The chains around Talon’s hands clink as he sags against the wall; the other remaining soldiers grow tipsy, clinging to the stone wall before slumping along its edge. Blood oozes from one of their mouths, which drops as he turns in my direction.

Naylor doesn’t stop though. He doesn’t waver in the slightest, just stalks toward me, smiling. The act accentuates his big nose and the gold where his teeth should be white. He rears back. I raise my hand to block, but he bludgeons my ear with his metal fist.

Pain explodes in the side of my head and I stagger back, colors splotching across my vision as the humming dies.

“Ambry!” Talon cries, wakening from his stupor now that I’m no longer singing. He’s yanking at the bars, reaching his hands through as far as they’ll go, which isn’t much.

“Siren song won’t work on me,” Naylor says as I teeter. My vision polka-dots, blacking in and out, and I clutch my throbbing ear. I lift my hands to the thumping above my ear to meet what feels like syrup. My fingers return red instead of flesh.

“Ambry, watch out!” Talon shouts.

I barely notice the brass-knuckled hand grit and make for me again. This time I have the sense to dodge it. The metal hits stone, and he flaps his hand with a curse.

I wobble toward the corner, still trying to figure everything out. Who is Naylor? Why didn’t the song work on him?

“Back off, Adrian,” Talon says from somewhere to my left. “We can offer you more than Tyrus ever could.”

My head throbs, but I force myself to think. Shasa mentioned the name in that seaside shack when I first met her. She said the sirens would fight in this war. Talon claimed the sirens wouldn’t; that they never leave their mountain.

They will now that the Arcs have a siren,
Shasa said
.

I was so frustrated, felt so lost during that conversation, but now it’s starting to make sense. Adrian Naylor rank tears and received immunity to siren song. He even kidnapped one of them. He’s the reason Estelle was willing to consider trading the song for my tears in the first place.

“Adrian,” I say now with realization.

He grins, showing several gilded teeth toward the back of his mouth. “Glad to know you’ve heard of me.” His voice is higher-pitched than I expect. I hadn’t noticed earlier. I hadn’t cared earlier. “And if you have, you’ll know that siren hex doesn’t intoxicate me. Though I do wonder how you got a hold of it. You’re no vixen.”

Adrian lifts his brass again.

“No!” Talon yells, raising his fists and lunging toward the bars between his cell and mine. I drive my arms upward to block, but it’s not enough. Adrian knocks my head in almost the same spot as before, the metal knuckles hitting like a hammer.

My eyes roll in my skull, and I clutch my head.

“I’ve bested the wenches who own that song,” he continues to goad, wiping my blood from his metal knuckles on his shirt. “Got one on my side, even.”

Talon’s glance is ardent. He motions with his hands, but I can’t comprehend it. Everything spins, everything knocks. I struggle to stay upright, let alone follow sign language.

Talon motions again, gesturing to Adrian and then toward himself, and then I understand. Head heavy, I make my way up, using the wall for support. With every last bit of strength, I barrel forward, knocking my head right into the Arc’s gut. He lets out a grunt as I plunge him into the bars.

Swiftly, Talon’s hands lift over Adrian’s head, and he lowers the chain connecting the shackles around the Arcaian’s throat. I squeeze my eyes shut, head pounding harder than the battering ram they used to knock down the dungeon door. But it still doesn’t block out the sounds of struggle. The scraping of Adrian’s boots against the stone, the gagging noises choking their way out. Moments later, Adrian sags down, head sloping to his chest.

He doesn’t move again.

Talon works to undo his shackles from the Arc’s bruised neck. No longer supported by the chains, Adrian’s body falls to the side.

Talon grips the bars for support, chains chinking with the movement, never taking his eyes from me. “Are you okay?” he asks with effort.

I cradle my head, kneeling on the ground opposite from him. His hand finds its way to mine. “You saved my life,” I say, just realizing the fact.

“You saved mine.”

“I’m the reason you’re in here, Talon. I’m so—” Sorry doesn’t seem to be enough.

A voice cuts in before I get a chance to go on. “Good, you’re still alive.”

Through the bars, Odis fiddles with the ring of keys Shasa left behind. A girl wearing the fitted khaki uniform lingers behind, bending for one of the cases holding the camera equipment. She gives me a tip of the chin, and I stiffen, wondering if Tyrus has come back to ensure Adrian carried out his part of the deal.

“Miles,” Talon says, a stem of hope in his voice.

“I led the others away, but it won’t be long until they come back down to check on you two,” says Odis, inserting a key into the lock of my cell. Moments later the door creaks open.

“Miles, help her,” Talon says, his voice desperate.

I rack my brains, trying to remember interactions, to remember if this Miles Odis was a threat. He was behind the camera. He nodded something to Talon at one point. That’s it.

Miles’s face is kind and handsome, with wide, warm eyes and full lips. His black hair is buzzed close to the scalp, and he cradles my head with gentle fingers. The touch sears, and I can’t help but cringe at the purple of his palm.

Violet magic ignites like a flare, but it doesn’t burn. Instead, it shoots cool and crisp through my veins, up my jaw and squaring its way up toward my ear, taking the pain with it as it goes until I’m left with what feels like an ice pack against the side of my head.

I lift my bloody fingers once more, startling when the touch doesn’t hurt.

Miles Odis keeps his warm brown eyes on mine. “Better?”

I swallow, allowing him to help me stand. I can’t help but notice the girl behind Miles, hugging her arms to her chest as if trying to remain out of sight. “Better,” I answer, still trembling and wondering who she is. “Thank you.”

“Hurry,” Talon says as Miles darts out and around the open cell door. He inserts a key into Talon’s cell and opens it. While Talon’s leg is still injured, at least his knees are no longer broken. He stumbles his way to Miles, taking the other boy’s arms and allowing him to insert sprigs of purple electricity into Talon’s body.

Again, the girl hugs her arms to her chest, folding her chin downward. “Are you okay?” I ask her. Something tells me despite the badgeless uniform, she’s not here as a soldier.

She presses her lips together and stares intently at the muck on the floor.

Miles continues supporting Talon, watching him keenly for any signs of a problem. The magic from his hands continues spiraling around Talon’s arms and legs, slithering its way up to the bruise along Talon’s forehead, healing every scrape, every hurt I noticed and those I didn’t. Second by second, Talon stands straighter. The strain erases from his brow, though it still bends in concern for his friend, until finally Miles releases him and Talon treads out of the cell with him.

“I wish I could do more,” says Miles, removing the Prones first from Talon’s wrists, then mine. “But you’re on your own from here.”

Talon claps him on the shoulder the way Tyrus had. “It’s enough. Go back before Tyrus suspects anything.”

Miles jogs toward the opening he and the other soldiers battered their way into. Wordlessly, the girl pivots to follow. He retrieves the last of the black cases, including the one she’s holding. I can’t help but wonder who she is. A girlfriend, maybe? He doesn’t act like she is.

“Miles,” Talon calls. The boy pauses, glancing back. “Thanks.”

Miles nods, tipping his head in my direction before hiking up the stairs. Head still ducked down, the girl ambles to follow. Not by his side, I notice. She’s careful to step in his wake.

“Who is she?” I ask, still keeping my attention on the vacant, dark stairwell.

“His subjugate,” says Talon from behind me.

I whirl around, brows rising though I know I shouldn’t be surprised. Of course she had to be nearby Miles. I’ve heard soldiers have to have the magic’s owner close by in order to use it. No wonder she seemed so uncomfortable.

Talon’s eyes trap mine. Concern creases his brow, taking place of the pain that was there minutes ago. That one look releases every worry, every ounce of impatience, every fear I’ve felt since seeing him here like this, since the video conference Tyrus had with Talon’s father. It all fades for a breath, a beat, only long enough to pulse.

Talon’s hand rests on my arm. “Ambry.”

He’s alive. We’re both alive. His fingers reach for my face when he takes in the sight of his hand and retracts.

I want to reach for it, to pull him back to me, but Shasa stands between us, even when she isn’t here. So many unanswered questions. “Miles. He’s your friend?” I ask.

“He used to be.” Talon sniffs, inspecting the empty chamber. “He was recruited around the same time I returned from Arcaia to Valadir. He was in one of the first battalions I trained, and we hit it off.” Talon’s confident gait is marred by a heavy limp, but it doesn’t stop him from bending toward the tunnel Shasa and Ren took when they fled the dungeon.

“They’ve been to Mt. Rhine, Talon,” I say, joining him and voicing one of the many worries that now tumble back in. My steps crunch against the grimy floor. The air is cool and musty, and we both have to hunch over to avoid scraping our heads against the stone above. “What else would Tyrus mean by his threat? Why else would he assign Adrian here if not to rub his song immunity in my face?”

Talon speaks distractedly, head veering left, then right, before he trudges down the long, narrow corridor. “He doesn’t have the tears—he would have shown them to my father.”

“Talon.” I lay a hand on his muscled forearm to catch his attention. “Your father. I—” I don’t know what to say. Bridar Haraway’s harsh words dangle between us like a snare.

“The Arcs are going after the sirens, Ambry. After the tears.” I read the sympathetic, evasive tone of his voice. He doesn’t want to talk about it, and for once I don’t blame him. “Do you still sense them?”