Page 89 of The Rebel's Prize

"Waiting to try an experiment. Istvan seems sincere in his desire to protect Deandra. He wants to see her, and we're probably going to allow it. But first we want to see if we can nudge him a little further in the direction we want."

Nudge? She wasn't sure she liked the sound of that. Truth Seekers could manipulate people if they had to, though she knew Lucien preferred not to unless it was a last resort. "How, exactly?"

"We've told him we're shifting him to another cell. We'll walk him along here"—he gestured at the length of the corridor—"and, at the same time, move Deandra. Let him see her but not talk to her. Close but not what he wants. But maybe enough to push him closer to confessing to get to her. It depends. He claims they're in love. He seems to believe it, and whatever else they might have been doing to their memories, I doubt they can fake an emotion to the point that he's willing to confess to protect her. They're not bonded, so there's no way she can be manipulating him that way. Whether or not she's playing with his emotions remains to be seen."

"That sounds risky."

"Plenty of guards, plenty of sanctii. We have it under control. We're just going to walk them past each other and then straight back to the cells." He straightened and turned back to the others as a door at the far end of the corridor opened. "Here they come." He hustled her back to the group of guards and Truth Seekers. "Keep behind the others."

Alarm turned her stomach upside down, nearly as badly as it had at the temple. She planted her feet, sticking right by his side. [Octarus, be ready.] The thought was instinctive, every inch of her braced for trouble.

Though what kind of trouble, she had no idea.

A group of guards came through the door escorting Istvan, a sanctii walking closest to him. The man looked paler than the last time she'd seen him, and he was unshaven but otherwise seemed healthy enough despite his hands still being bound. His eyes widened when he saw Lucien. "My lord Truth Seeker," he called as he came nearer. "You owe me an answer to my request."

"I don't believe I owe you anything," Lucien replied sternly.

Chloe wanted to watch Istvan but couldn't help turning when she heard the door she'd come through opening behind them. Another group of guards walked through, Deandra in their midst, her mouth set in an angry line.

"Deandra!" Istvan yelled. He struggled briefly, then subsided when two of the guards grabbed his shoulders.

Deandra's eyes narrowed at the sight of him. She, too, was pale, and she wore a plain gray dress, her hair bound in one long braid. She flashed Chloe a poisonous glance, then lifted her chin and kept walking.

"Deandra," Istvan called desperately as the two groups grew close.

Lucien moved to keep pace with Deandra's escorts, and Chloe, despite the sensation that she should be running in the opposite direction, stuck close to him.

"Do not worry, my love. You will be free. I'll make sure of it," Istvan continued.

Deandra's head twisted toward him, her expression alarmed. "Do not do anything stupid."

"You will be fine. They will know it was me."

Deandra's expression, instead of turning relieved, suddenly looked enraged. "You idiot," she shrieked and lunged toward him, the suddenness of the move taking the guards by surprise. She almost made it to Istvan, her bound hands reaching, fingers bent like claws, mouth snarling as though she wanted to kill him, not help him.

Chloe barely registered the thought before Lucien somehow inserted himself between them. Istvan stumbled back, expression horrified, and Lucien reached for Deandra, clearly intent on stopping her.

"You!" Deandra's face was pure hatred now. She thrust her shackled hands toward Lucien, closing her fingers around his wrist.

There was a sudden clashing chord of music in the air that speared through Chloe's head like a knife, and light flared around Lucien, the bond vibrating with the same painful noise before she felt the connection begin to fade, her sense of him dissolving as it had in the temple.

"No!" Instinctively she reached her magic back toward him, trying to strengthen the bond and push Deandra's magic out. But her sense of Lucien continued to fade.

[Octarus.Help me!] she shrieked silently.

[Hold.] The sanctii's voice boomed through her head like thunder.

Something pulsed through her, chasing away the clashing sensation of Deandra's magic, replacing it with something almost as overwhelming, memories and emotions storming through her like it had when they'd bonded, the magic loud as a thunderclap. Her knees started to buckle, and she braced herself, trying to pull Lucien free.

The storm of sensation lightened somewhat as Octarus appeared beside her, wrenching Deandra away from Lucien.

The magic began to calm, but as she reached for the bond, she knew something had gone wrong. It felt like fog, barely there, and she clutched Lucien's hand desperately, hoping the contact might keep them grounded. Keep them together.Savethem.

Deandra's gaze didn’t shift from them, like a wolf's on its prey, not even struggling against Octarus, who had his arms wrapped around her, holding her still.

Chloe ignored her and focused on Lucien. He blinked before his eyes met hers. "Chloe. What areyoudoing here?" Something flashed over his face that was half surprise, half pleasure before his expression went dazed again.

Her grip tightened in shock. "I came to meet you. Don't you remember?"

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