Page 104 of Captive of the Stolen Empire

Brishon groaned and shook his head. “I know you want her, but this is madness. You don’t even know what he plans.”

“Nothing good,” I fumed, staring at my fellow captains in turn. Whatever Orson had in mind wouldn’t be pleasant. He already didn’t like Ilya, and he’d likely be even more cruel to her on account of my regard. “I’m saving her. Now. We’ll move up our plans. Act tonight. We’ll flee. Meet up with the rebels and—”

“I understand, I’ll see to it,” Zurina promised. Her gaze locked with mine, the sister of my heart who understood me well. “Save her, we’ll handle the rest.”

“I’ll go for the other hostages. They’ll suspect me the least,” Warren said.

Zurina nodded at me once, solid and sure.

Without another glance, I took off at a run toward the castle, the footsteps of my companions close behind.

Holy Four, let me make it in time.

Chapter47

Ilya

Despair rippled under my skin. I shivered against the rough stone walls of my cell. Though water dripped from my dress and hair to puddle among the stones, my clothing refused to dry.

This section of the dungeon remained empty—except for me. The guards didn’t bother to patrol its length, favoring the warmth and light of the central room instead. Those comforts lingered out of reach through the door at the end of the hall.

Only hard bread and water awaited me in my cell, though somewhere nearby a mouse occasionally squeaked and scratched.

Ryszard killed him. He’d actually done it. My heart ached for Fernand and the wife and child who would never see him again. Would the emperor demand they join us soon? A new pair of hostages in their loved one’s place?

Most likely, though whether I’d be above ground to see them remained unclear. And Lucien…

You spared me pain to leave me here?My heart twisted.

Hinges groaned, echoing down the hall.

I scooted toward the narrow stretch of metal bars running floor to ceiling beside the similarly wrought door to my cell. Light flooded in as the far door swung open, causing me to squint against the blaze. My breath caught in my throat as a figure took shape in the doorway at the end of the hall—one wearing gleaming armor.

Lucien.

My heart cried out to him.

And then shriveled in terror.

No deer antlers grazed the top of the threshold. Two small bumps rose up on either side of a tall captain’s helm—bear ears.

Orson.

The scraps of bread in my stomach rebelled as I lurched back into the darkness of my cell. Oh, to have a knife or to be blessed by one of The Four. How had they seen fit to gift their talents to one such as him while bypassing so many of us completely?

Whistles, like beckons for a hound, snaked down the hallway, accompanied by heavy footsteps. Rock dug into my back as I squirmed into the darkness.

A fruitless effort.

“Where are you little mouse?” Orson laughed as his bulk came into view. The flames of the torch he carried jumped and danced as he settled it into an empty sconce outside my cell. “There you are.” His leering gaze raked over my skin. “Must be unpleasant stuck in that cold and dirty cell.”

I cocked an eyebrow at him, displaying all the indifferent confidence I didn’t feel.

Orson jingled the ring of keys in his hand, holding them up in the dim light. “Want out? I could take you back to my quarters.”

“No thank you,” I bit out. I’d take the cell over him any day. Rotting away down here would be better than whatever awaited me in his rooms.

“You sure? I’d warm you up real nice.”

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