‘What the shit are you doing?’
… and found it.
No-scars grew fuzzy, like someone was pulling a black veil over him.
This was his chance.
A desperate surge of adrenaline rushed through Ash. He drew back his hand—thank Mengha for that—and smashed it into No-scars’s temple. Doran would have been proud of the whole thing, especially the way Ash had stolen the lockpick. Ash didn’t know how this guy had hidden it for so long, but he couldn’t have cared less. Thank Mengha the guards didn’t hate all prisoners with the same passion they afforded him.
Ash hated killing, but if this guy lived and told the guards that Ash had a lockpick… The guards would beat him or pit someone against him to do it for them. What if No-scars hoped for better treatment by ratting Ash out? Letting him live was too risky.
So, he rammed his fist into No-scars’s temples until red soaked the man’s hair and his eyes didn’t open.
Ash wet his hands in No-scars’s blood and made a show of parading his bloody fists to the crowd—and licking his fingers clean. At least on one hand…
The one that had concealed the lockpick, which now rested under his tongue.
The crowd exploded in deafening applause, and for the fraction of a second, a deranged part of Ash’s air-deprived brain thought this wasn’t so bad. Mengha had smiled on Ash. He hadn’t died today, he had a way out, and he wasn’t ready to die for a good long while yet.
Day 90 - ?
I don’t know what time it is. Something’s missing. Not from my research, but from—
When I free a spirit, I no longer feel it. Queen Elsbet’s connection died, and I let my advisor go a few minutes ago.
And I felt nothing. No tugging. No emptiness.
Although…
No, there is something. I need to fill the hole he left. I need to work more.
Chapter 7 – Doran
Looking at Vaska’s most notorious prison would never get easier. Doran took a deep breath—two when his hands didn’t stop shaking—and tried to ready himself, but it was pointless. There was no preparing himself for the suffering beneath the streets.
He and Levi had hidden in a nearby alley while Doran worked on his courage. Few guards had come or gone; maybe a quiet day would benefit them.
Doran hated that Ash wasn’t likely to be in the first cell they came across. He hated that the uniform was wet with blood in places and sticking to him, and he hated that they were in this situation. Most of all, he hated that he was about to walk into the one place every thief knew to avoid—and he was taking Levi with him. Because Ash was already inside. Apparently, being Ash’s friend meant walking into the most dangerous prison and saving his hopefully sorry ass.
Doran pulled on his sleeve, but it didn’t get rid of the moist feeling the drying blood had left. He frowned and tried to shake it off, but he expected nothing would remove it. Not today, not tomorrow, not a thousand baths.
He glanced at Levi. ‘How do I look?’
‘Too serious. You need to look like you’re proud you caught me.’
Easy for Levi to say. All he had to do was look terrified—which the place made easy—and let Doran parade him around. Doran was the one who needed to do the hard bits. If he had been religious, he’d have prayed they’d make it out alive, but he would just have to trust himself instead. He was good at this. It wasn’t the first time he’d saved Ash from danger, just the first time things looked this bad. But he thrived on challenges, and this was the biggest challenge he’d ever set himself.
Although technically, this was all on Ash.
Doran examined Levi’s bare chest—at least he looked like he belonged here with the many scars covering his torso—and managed a smile.
‘That’s better,’ Levi said. ‘You look more like you’re picturing all the things you’ll do to me.’
Doran grinned. ‘Oh, I am, Ginger.’
Levi blushed. ‘I meant the bad things.’ Doran’s grin grew wider. ‘I meant things like beating me up so they’ll believe you’re a guard and I’m a prisoner.’
Doran’s smile vanished. He’d hold on to the general idea though.
‘Are you ready?’ Doran asked.
Levi nodded.
Doran checked that the rope around Levi’s wrists was still tight and shoved him out in front. For this to work, everyone who might see them had to believe their act. The citizens were used to guard violence towards their prisoners, so that’s what Doran had to show them, no matter how much it turned his stomach. He’d wanted to be rough with Levi, but not like this. Not in any way that his Ginger could really get hurt.
‘Move it, maggot!’
Levi whimpered. ‘I said I’m sorry!’
Knowing it was fake didn’t stop it from hurting. Levi was too good at this.
Doran made a mental note for later: Ginger good at roleplay.
‘Yeah, yeah. Save it for the arena.’
Levi strained against the rope, and Doran had to pull it back—a little too forcefully. Levi stumbled back and hissed, and Doran’s heart plummeted past his stomach to his feet. He gulped.
‘On your feet, scum, or I’ll drag you the rest of the way.’
Levi turned around but didn’t get up. He crawled to Doran, went to his knees before him, and grabbed his legs. ‘Please, sir! I can’t go to the arena, they’ll kill me!’
Bad goosebumps shot across Doran’s arms and back. This was so much harder than he’d expected.
For Ash.
He grabbed Levi by his hair, pulled him up, and brought Levi’s face close to his. ‘That’s the idea.’
Doran shoved Levi away from him, walked out in front, and pulled him the rest of the way. The prison’s unassuming entrance doors loomed before him. He walked in like he belonged and pushed Levi into the front desk. A startled receptionist jumped back in his seat and blinked several times. Did they all sleep on the job? It was amazing they ever caught anyone, but Doran supposed Vaska’s guards were like any predator—happy to laze in the sun for most of the day but fired up when their prey tried to run.
The receptionist didn’t wear the uniform, and he was thin. Not a muscle on him. One guard stood by a door on his left, curiosity on his hardened face. He’d be the bigger problem, but that door had to be where Ash was—or somewhere behind it and below ground, anyway. Once they had Ash and made it back here, they’d turn a sharp right. Their horses weren’t far and already saddled; they’d run there and disappear before anyone knew Ash was missing. The receptionist wouldn’t get in the way, and Doran could deal with one guard.
So far so good.
‘Where’d you find him?’ the receptionist asked.
‘Caught him stealing weapons from a market trader.’ Doran flashed Ginger’s daggers. ‘Pretty souvenirs, wouldn’t you say?’
If he knew anything about Vaskan guards besides their cruelty, it was that they were thieves just like their prisoners. He’d broken into enough guards’ homes to have seen a few stashes of “claimed evidence.”