“I need to know, my lady,” Gliacon says, sounding apologetic. She nods to Julian and Lucas, who follow me down. “Goes for you two as well.”
“I would like a private audience with these”—I throw as much disgust into my voice as I can; it’s not hard, with the pig-eyed Sentinel standing so close—“creatures. We have questions that must be answered, and wrongs to repay. Don’t we, Julian?”
Julian sneers, putting on a good show. “It’ll be easy to make them sing.”
“Not possible, m’lady,” Pig-Eyes snorts. His accent is hard and rough, from Harbor Bay. “Our orders are to stay right here, all night. We move for no one.”
Once, a boy in the Stilts called me a rotten flirt for charming him out of a good pair of boots. “You understand my position, don’t you? I will be a princess soon, and the favor of a princess is a very valuable thing. Besides, the Red rats must be taught a lesson. A painful one.”
Pig-Eyes blinks sluggishly at me, thinking it over. Julian hovers at my shoulder, ready with his sweet words if I need them. Two heartbeats pass before Pig-Eyes nods, waving to the others. “We can give you five minutes.”
My face hurts from smiling so widely, but I don’t care. “Thank you so much. I am in your debt, all of you.”
They tromp away in a single file, their boots scuffing. As soon as they reach the top landing, I allow myself to hope. Five minutes will be more than enough.
Kilorn almost jumps at the bars, eager to be free of his cell, and Walsh pulls Farley to her feet. But I don’t move at all. I don’t intend to free them, not yet.
“Mare—” Kilorn whispers, puzzled at my hesitation, but I silence him with a look.
“The bomb.” Smoke and fire cloud my thoughts, bringing me back to the moment the ballroom exploded. “Tell me about the bomb.”
I expect them to fall over themselves in apologies, to beg my forgiveness, but instead, the three exchange blank looks. Farley leans against the bars, her eyes on fire.
“I don’t know anything about that,” she hisses, barely audible. “I never authorized such a thing. It was supposed to be organized, with special targets. We do not kill at random, without purpose.”
“The capital, the other bombings—?”
“You know those buildings were empty. No one died there, not because of us,” she says evenly. “I swear to you, Mare, this was not our doing.”
“Do you really think we’d try to blow up our greatest hope?” Kilorn adds. I don’t need to ask to know he means me.
Finally, I nod over my shoulder to Julian.
“Open the cell. Quietly,” Julian murmurs, his hands on Lucas’s face.
The magnetron complies, forcing the bars into an open O wide enough to step through. Walsh comes out first, her eyes wide in amazement. Kilorn is next, helping Farley fit through the bars. Her arm still dangles helplessly—the healer missed a spot.
I gesture to the wall and they move soundlessly, mice on stone. Walsh’s eyes touch on Tristan’s body, still lifeless in the cell, but she stays put beside Farley. Julian shoves Lucas in next to them before taking his spot next to the foot of the stairs, across from the freed prisoners.
I take the other side, pressing myself in next to Kilorn. Even though he’s spent the night in the cells, with a dead body for company, he still smells like home.
“I knew you’d come,” he whispers in my ear. “I knew it.”
But there’s no time for pleasantries or celebrations. Not until they’re away safely.
Across the open gap of stairwell, Julian nods at me. He’s ready.
“Sentinel Gliacon, may I have a word?” I shout up the stairs, laying the bait for our next trap. The shuffle of feet tells me she’s taken it.
“What is it, my lady?”
When she reaches the floor, her eyes fly straight to the open cell and she gasps behind her mask. But Julian is too quick, even for a Sentinel.
“You went for a walk. You returned to find this. You do not remember us. Call down one of the others,” he murmurs, his voice a terrible song.
“Sentinel Tyros, you are needed,” she says flatly.
“Now you will sleep.”
She drops almost before the last word leaves his lips, but Julian catches her around the middle and lays her gently down behind him. Kilorn exhales in surprise, impressed by Julian, who allows himself a small, pleased smile.
Tyros comes down the stairs next, confused, but eager to serve. Julian does it again, singing his orders in a few whispered seconds. I didn’t expect Sentinels to be so stupid, but it makes sense. They’re trained from childhood in the art of combat; logic and intelligence are not their highest priorities.
But the last two, Pig-Eyes and the healer, are not complete fools. When Tyros calls out, ordering the skin healer Sentinel to come down, they mutter to each other.
“About finished, Lady Titanos?” Pig-Eyes calls, his voice wary.
Thinking quickly, I shout back to them. “Yes, we’re finished. Your companions have returned to their posts, I want to make sure you do as well.”
“Oh, have they? Is that right, Tyros?”
With blinding speed, Julian kneels over the fainted Tyros. He pries his eyes open, holding the lids. “Say you’ve returned to your post. Say the lady has finished.”
“Returned to my post,” Tyros drones. Hopefully the long stairwell and stone walls will distort his voice. “The lady has finished.”
Pig-Eyes grunts to himself. “Very well.”
Their boots stamp against the steps, both coming down together. Two. Julian cannot handle two alone. I feel Kilorn tense at my back, his fist clenching as he prepares for anything. With one hand I push him back against the wall, while the other grows white with sparks.
The footsteps stop, just beyond the opening. I can’t see them and neither can Julian, but Pig-Eyes breathes like a dog. The healer is there as well, waiting just beyond our reach. In total silence, it’s hard not to hear the click of a gun.
Julian’s eyes widen but he stands firm, one hand closing around his stolen weapon. I don’t even want to breathe, knowing the edge we’re all standing on. The walls seem to shrink, boxing us into a stone coffin with no escape.
I feel very calm when I slide out in front of the steps, my sparking hand behind my back. I expect to feel bullets at any minute, but the pain never comes. They won’t shoot me, not until I give them a good reason.
“Is there some problem, Sentinels?” I sneer, quirking an eyebrow like I’ve seen Evangeline do a hundred times. Slowly, I take a step up, bringing the pair of them into view. They stand side by side, fingers itching on twin triggers. “I’d prefer it if you wouldn’t point your guns at me.”
Pig-Eyes glares at me outright, but it does nothing to faze me. You are a lady. Act like it. Act for your life. “Where’s your friend?”
“Oh, he’s coming along. One of the prisoners has a mouth on her. She needed some extra attention.” The lie comes so easily. Practice really does make perfect.
Grinning, Pig-Eyes lowers his gun a bit. “The scarred bitch? Had to show her the back of my hand myself.” He chuckles. I laugh with him and dream about what lightning could do to his fleshy, pale eyes.