11. Chapter Eleven: Theo

Chapter Eleven – Theo

T heo meets the morning with muffled breath, his knuckles still bruised from where they met with the faces of his now unconscious guards (they were easy enough to fool: all he had to do was insult their honor and then their mothers, and while they were busy spitting with rage, he nicked the key and waited until they fell into a drunken stupor. Of course he still had to deal the blow to ensure they were unconscious). He is surprisingly grateful that Cathalan saw to it that even his boots were taken as he tiptoes across the tile floor on silent bare feet. The palace is a maze, and he refuses to admire it in the dappled early morning light, the endless hallways turned to mosaics as sun filters through shaded windows and long columns. Thankfully, the Third Blessed Demon Prince is as foolish as Theo originally thought, and there are few guards beyond the original pair posted outside his cell, so after Theo dealt with them, locking them in the pin he was kept in, key tucked in his pocket, he only needed to creep along. He follows his nose – his wakening beast will surely lead him to Luka.

But something pulls him to a stop when he catches the Third Blessed Prince's scent.

Memories of the man's hands on Luka's waist are far too fresh in his mind. Theo wrestles with them, trying to pull himself away, but rage clouds his vision as his beast rises, demanding retribution. How dare this man touch what is mine.

But his possessive rage isn't what matters right now. What matters is Luka. Luka, yes. He needs to concentrate.

Theo turns on his heel to wind down another passageway, teeth gritted –

– only to find Darri waiting for him.

The guard, oddly, looks disappointed. "Didn't make it far, did you?" is all he says before raising a bottle – a perfume bottle? – and then the air is full of a sweet-smelling mist and Theo is falling, falling, falling –

"Really, Theodori," Cathalan's voice haunts Theo in the dark. "Do better next time."

Once returned to his cell, Theo seethes.

His next attempt will be successful.

Cathalan will return to taunt him again. He simply can't resist. When he does, Theo can use the Third Blessed Prince as a means to escape.

Unfortunately, the next two days Theo is only brought meager food and water (both of which he refuses out of fear of lovelace). On the third day, when Cathalan finally comes, Theo barely has the strength to raise his head, much less his fist.

Still, he tries.

As Cathalan continues his line of questioning and Darri warns about the Third Blessed Prince's siblings getting closer to discovering Theo on the daily, Theo pretends to study the bars of his cell, when really he's examining the sheath of the jewel-encrusted dagger at Cathalan's hip. When the prince finally turns to berate his guard, Theo lunges.

It is then that Theo learns Cathalan is very, very fast.

As Theo's fingers close over the cool sapphire of the dagger's hilt, Darri cries out. But already, Cathalan is whirling, eyes bright – not with fear, but anticipation.

Theo has never fought the Snake of the South directly before. Soldiers always have been pressed between them, shields blocking them from each other. Of course, he is well aware of Cathalan's ability – noble birth can only shield one from death for so long without skill – but this level of speed is –

Inhuman, Theo thinks, as he pulls the dagger free, too committed to abort.

Cathalan's hand seizes Theo's wrist and squeezes hard enough for his bones to creak. Theo grits his teeth as he is forced to drop the dagger.

The weapon clatters to the floor while Darri splutters.

"Cath – I didn't – he's –"

"Don't be a silly egg, Darri. There's no need to be upset now," Cathalan says. His grip on Theo's wrist tightens as he holds Theo's gaze, unwavering.

The lack of food and water has weakened Theo, but the lack of lovelace has made his wolf strong. Theo raises his chin, ignoring the increasing pain in his wrist as he stares the Third Blessed Prince down, daring him to look away first.

Something flickers in Cathalan's eyes. Interest? Hunger? The intent is so quick, Theo has no time to interpret it before Cathalan releases him with a chuckle.

"You'll have to do better than that, Wolf Prince," he warns. He picks up his dagger. Theo resists the urge to shake out his wrist.

Oh, just watch me, Theo thinks as the prince retreats with his guard. The prison door creaks shut and darkness fills his cell once again. Theo returns to the only place where he is safe: his memories. Those days with Luka in his tent with a Ravage board spread between them. Theo imagines his hands ghosting over the next piece, his next move. He smiles.

For all his bravado, Theo forces himself to eat and drink on the third day, and the lovelace seeps into his system. The prison spins, and Theo falls into a world where reality is little different from dream. Did Cathalan come to see him? To ask why Theo has come here? Or did Luka come for him, his eyes wide and pleading as he wrapped his hands around the bars and said, I finally found you! Oh, I've been looking for so long. Theo, Theo, can you hear me? It is impossible for Theo to tell the difference.

All Theo knows is that when he blinks into consciousness on what might be the fifth – or the sixth? – morning of captivity, Cathalan is there waiting on the other side and Theo's cheeks are wet with tears.

"Morning, dear enemy," Cathalan says. He holds out a wineskin that Theo waves away. Cathalan shakes his head. "No need for that. This isn't poisoned. See?" He takes a sip, his throat bobbing.

Theo licks his dry lips. "Where is your guard?"

"Darri? I managed to ditch him. Took a fair bit of effort – that man is stickier than a horde of fleas – but fire always seems to catch his attention well." Cathalan chuckles. He offers the wineskin again. This time Theo takes it despite himself.

The water is warm and tasteless. Theo swallows the wineskin's contents down in mere seconds. He wipes the back of his mouth when finished.

Cathalan sinks to the floor as he watches, crossing his legs as he sits. Today, he wears blood-red robes sparkling with rubies and diamonds. A crown glitters from his dark locks, like a tendril of gold buried in the rich earth-color of his braid. He pats absently at the dust now covering his lower half, not bothering to brush it away but instead creating designs on the dirtied fabric.

"What are you planning on doing with me?" Theo croaks, his throat aching with each word.

"Doing with you?" Cathalan repeats, still tracing patterns. "That's a good question. I hadn't gotten that far yet, to be perfectly honest."

Theo glowers, but Cathalan only continues playing in the dirt. "I've been too busy tending to my potential spouses – I'm sure you saw all of them." Cathalan glances up at Theo through dark lashes.

Theo struggles to keep his face blank at the thought of how Cathalan might be tending to his suitors. He wrestles with his thoughts, but already images of Cathalan's hands brushing against Luka's face, trailing down the Siacchian's body and touching him in places where only Theo should touch –

Theo grunts and throws the wineskin outside of his cell. Its landing sends a shower of dust over the Third Blessed Prince, who smiles.

"Jealous?" Cathalan asks.

Theo takes a moment to reply, suddenly grateful the lovelace has dulled his connection with his wolf. Otherwise, he likely wouldn't have been able to hide the rage darkening his vision. Instead, he draws his hands into fists and focuses on the pain of his human nails biting into his palms, and says, "Of their freedom? Certainly."

This is good for me, actually. This makes Luka a better tool. Just like I wanted, Theo tells himself.

"That freedom is something you could earn, Wolf Prince," Cathalan says. His eyes drift up, toward the narrow window beyond Theo's cell. Daylight winks outside, casting a puddle of light not far from where Cathalan sits. "Earned with the right information, that is."

"I've likely already told you everything you need to know while drugged."

"No. Not everything." Cathalan stands. "See, Wolf Prince, I've learned the best way to understand a person is by knowing what they want. What they need to survive. For most, it's something simple: fame, fortune – love. But you were always a mystery to me."

He pauses, the amusement bleeding from his face. The muscles in his jaw work. "At first, I thought you were like the rest of your Kiteran people and that you simply wanted violence and land and blood and power. But then, I heard about the years you spent in your capital, and how you had been kept from the battlefield. What could that murderous bastard possibly want there, I wondered, in the heart of your mobile kingdom, so far from the front . You were supposed to fit into a neat box, into the box of the person who killed my – who killed. And now, here you are, but instead of attempting to murder me in my sleep like I thought you would – which is why I ordered those guards to let you out, that wasn't your doing, don't fool yourself – you only attempt to escape."

The Third Blessed Prince pauses, glancing at Theo. Theo stares at him, before finally saying, "You talk a lot."

"What is it you want, Wolf Prince? I know it's not my life."

Theo flexes his fingers. "What makes you think that?"

Cathalan steps closer to the cell, close enough for his warm breath to brush the bars. He pauses within arm's reach. "Well?"

Theo's nails dig into his palms. The weakness of his grip only confirms his fears. Would I be able to overpower him now, without my wolf?

The answer, cold and resounding, hurts Theo. It hurts him almost as much as knowing that Luka could be saved, if only Theo were stronger.

Worse – does Luka really need to be saved?

Theo grimaces, closing his eyes. Here, guarded inside these walls, at the side of the future king of Balivartia, Luka would be safe from his mother. He would have the power he needed to save Cassian. He could accomplish everything – because he doesn't need Theo.

No.

Theo's beast, weakened as it is, roars in denial. Luka is mine . Luka is my mate.

But Luka doesn't know that.

Theo has made a terrible mistake. No matter what Luka chooses, Theo at the very least owes him the truth – and to deliver that, he needs to escape. And his success rests entirely on his wits – and how long he can remain interesting to this prince.

And if I play this game well enough, alliance is not out of the question.

I could return with Luka. We could go home together.

But could I truly ally myself with this man? Theo narrows his eyes. This man who only knows how to take from me?

Cathalan smiles slightly. "Where is your bloodlust, mindless beast?" he whispers. "It is not my life you seek. Look at those eyes of yours. I expected to see only animal rage. You do seem to despise me for some reason."

Theo scoffs and Cathalan points at him. "See? Look at that. Vitriol. How delightful."

The Third Blessed Prince spins on his heel and returns to his spot on the floor, playing with his pile of dust. He stirs about the dirt for a while, throwing up particles to glow in the air. After a long pause, he says in a quiet voice, "Tell me about Effa."

"Effa?" Theo raises a brow.

Cathalan's lips press together. "Effa. The Second Blessed Heir."

"I've never met any of your siblings."

Cathalan stares at the circle of light on the cell floor. His fingers tap on his thigh. "No need to lie now, Wolf Prince. We have you. We could start to torture you, if you'd like."

Theo cocks his head, taking in the Third Blessed Prince's tensed shoulders and set jaw. His thoughts may have been slowed by hunger and captivity, but he can read the man easily enough. "You think I killed your sister?"

Cathalan flies to his feet, his teeth bared. "I know you killed her."

Theo lowers his chin, unmoved. "I've killed many people. You'll have to give more than just a name. Usually I don't have a lot of time for introductions on the battlefield."

"It would have been over ten years ago now. Early fall. She… she likely would be slightly taller than I am, with the same crown. Amber eyes. She wielded the viper's teeth."

Viper's teeth – that's what they call those poisoned little knives.

Theo is about to shake his head, when a faint memory flickers: it would have been before his world ended, somewhat recently into his promotion to Sevell. The first time he had an army to command, he had been thirteen, maybe fourteen – and just in time to take on the South as they attempted to reclaim old territory.

The day had been unseasonably cold, and Theo had been bloody. From a higher vantage point, he realized his men were being slaughtered not by the army's superior numbers, but by one individual.

So he took care of it.

The woman fought well, but after she knocked Theo's helmet away and saw his face – still round with youth – she hesitated.

After, her body joined the others in a mass grave marked for the enemy. Theo thought little of it then, beyond how remarkable her skill had been – had she not paused for an instant, she likely would have killed him, the best warrior of his generation, Wolf-Born or not.

Theo looks back at the Third Blessed Prince, comparing the face before him to the faded one in his memory – and yes, there is the same brow, the same purse of the lips. Something twists in his stomach, and suddenly Cathalan's gaze becomes too heavy to hold.

"Why do you think I took her life?" Theo asks, voice much softer than before.

Cathalan's gaze falls to the pool of light on the prison floor. "She was sent to break the Kiteran armies and reclaim the Northern border, but you broke her instead. That's what my people told me."

"And that's when you retaliated," Theo replies, the words falling from numb lips as he is lost to the scent of scorched flesh and the sight of a ruined home. The one place where he should always be safe, lost in an instant.

Cathan's throat bobs. "We needed to recover our losses, otherwise Father would have called a retreat. And I wasn't sure – at the time – I thought she might still be… that perhaps somehow…" Cathalan closes his eyes. "It was only much later, after we found her helmet – that blood – that I realized I was far too late."

Theo stares at the Snake of the South – at his enemy. Briefly, anger washes over him; where is the monster of his dreams? Where is the man who forced Theo into his first and only defeat?

And why is he staring so hard at the beautiful day outside, eyes a little too wide and mouth a little too firm, like he's trying to hold back tears?

"She was brave," Theo whispers. Cathalan's head snaps up. Theo continues in a low voice, "She should have killed me, but she stopped when she saw my face."

Cathalan blinks, his face blank. His lips part and a low, eerie laugh leaks free. "Effa," he whispers. "You fool."

The Third Blessed Prince inhales shakily and rises, walking toward the light at the end of the prison but pausing before it can reach his skin. "Thank you for telling me, Wolf Prince."

"Why do you call me that?"

Cathalan tuts. "I know we've had a brief change of pace here, but try not to forget: you are my prisoner. I'm the one asking the questions here." He turns his back to Theo, staring through the narrow cracks in the window's bars. "Though, if I were to answer, I'd say likely for the same reason you call me the Snake of the South. Sounds a bit scary, doesn't it?"

The Third Blessed Prince extends his hand toward the light, his fingers flinching away before they touch the beams. "Like the sort of thing one might name a monster," he murmurs, the words too quiet to be meant for anything other than his ears alone.

He shakes his head. "But enough about this, Wolf Prince. I know that's not what you're really interested in here." Cathalan wets his lips. "Which of my lovely paramours do you think I should take as my future consort? Whose head do you think is best suited to wear the crown?"

He doesn't look back at Theo, and Theo is grateful. He cannot hide the way his body stiffens.

"I'm not sure what good my opinion would do to help you on that matter," Theo says.

"That's true. Darri would probably agree; Kiteran mating customs are quite different from those of a Balivartian heir, wouldn't you say?" Cathalan grins at Theo as if they are sharing an inside joke. "I'm rather partial to the blonde – no, brunette. No, perhaps not the women then," Cathalan continues as he holds Theo's gaze.

Theo inhales slowly. "If you've captured me to bore me to death with talk of your potential suitors and cultural differences, I'd rather you just get on with my execution."

Cathalan chuckles. "Come now, Wolf Prince! I thought you would be more interested in my potential mates. We did discuss at length how you had thought to go about seducing me, after all. I thought you would want to hear more about those whose efforts were successful and those which failed."

Theo bares his teeth. "I'd rather rip out your throat."

Cathalan taps his chin. "That's certainly one method of seduction. Not my favorite poison, but to each their own. No, if not any of the women, then what about that delightful little one? The one with the curly dark hair and the dreamy blue eyes?"

Theo's shoulders lock in place. His gaze remains on Cathalan while his treacherous thoughts jerk him elsewhere. "I don't know which one you're talking about. There were too many to keep track."

Cathalan cocks his head to the side. "Luka Lockehart," Cathalan says. Theo hates the sound of his mate's name on the man's lips. The way he says it with such fondness.

"I'll try my best to keep him alive. To keep them all alive," Cathalan says. "Since Luka is my favorite, I wish I could try my hardest for him, but my advisers insist I devote the majority of my efforts to protecting Fedryn. We must improve relationships with my mother's homeland, Goddess rest her soul."

"Why do you have to try and keep him alive?" Theo says. He means for the words to emerge uninterested and unharried, but he sounds breathless.

"My siblings will try their hardest to eliminate my potential consorts so I have no claim for the throne. A good king must be able to protect that which is his, after all, even when facing attacks from his own people. No need to look so worried, Wolf Prince. I have guards watching my suitors' rooms all hours of the day."

"Why would I be worried about anyone who is pursuing your affections?"

Cathalan smiles. "See, that's what I was wondering." He walks to the pool of light again. This time, he shoves his shoe into the brightness. Sunlight sparks off his ridiculously bejeweled slipper.

Theo's nostrils flare as he stares at the Third Blessed Prince – demons . That's what Kiteran soldiers called the heirs to the Balivartian throne. They would always strike under the cover of moonlight, and they would fight like a man possessed. Spears, knives, swords – nothing could take them down, supposedly. Nothing, unless you took off their head.

"What are you?" Theo whispers. Why do you keep toying with the sunlight like a cat with a pool of water?

Are you trying to tell me something?

And, strangest of all: Why are you trying to tell it to me?

Cathalan shakes his head. "Now, now, I told you, Wolf Prince. I'm the one asking the questions." His lips part, but before he can speak, the door at the prison's entrance swings open, and Darri storms inside.

"Cath, what in the Goddess's name are you doing? I've been looking for you everywhere – and I told you not to come here alone." Darri throws a stern glare in Theo's direction as if Theo is the one at fault.

Not human, but not beast . Even Theo's weak nose can understand that much.

I should have listened to those soldiers' stories. Theo dismissed the stuttering and horrified accounts of those beneath him as simple minded nonsense. But had he taken them seriously, he might have been able to use this to his advantage – but why would the prince show me this now?

"Apologies, Darri," Cathalan says, running a hand through his hair. "There were some time-sensitive questions I needed to ask."

"Marlacyn has been wondering where you went," Darri grumbles. "I've had to entertain him for the last hour."

Cathalan laughs, though the noise is weak. "I'm sure you've cycled through all of your small talk at least three times over, haven't you?"

Darri glances at Theo, his lips curling down. "Did you at least get what you needed?"

Cathalan follows his guard's gaze. He looks Theo over slowly. Theo returns the gesture, though he struggles to understand the minute emotions playing across the Third Blessed Prince's face.

"Yes," Cathalan finally says. "I learned all that I need to know from him." He cocks his head to the side, pressing his lips together, before adding, "You may alert my siblings of his existence, but not of his identity. That should be enough to pique their interest and keep my suitors safe so I'll have time to question them."

Theo's heart lurches.

"Question the suitors?" Darri repeats.

Cathalan nods, still gazing at Theo. "Make sure to tell the twins first. They'll spread the news fastest and make it seem like the leak was accidental, not intentional."

"If they find out who he is –"

"They won't, Darri. The new rains will come within the month, and none of them are organized enough to work quickly."

"Kian –"

"Is too busy trying to make himself as pretty as me to listen to courtly gossip. Just make sure the suitors are prepared for questioning, yes?"

Cathalan nods while Theo's stomach ties itself into an elaborate knot. Question the suitors . The words echo.

Are you going to hurt Luka?

But Theo can't ask those questions. He can only stare at Cathalan in mounting fury. He finds himself at the edge of his cell, his hands tightening to an almost painful extent around the bars of his prison.

"See," Darri says. "This is why I can't leave you alone down here. This beast looks like he wants to rip out your spine and beat you with it."

Cathalan raises his chin and gives Theo a small smile. "He probably has good reason to."

With that, he turns and gestures to Darri. The two leave Theo, pressed against the bars of his prison, heart pounding, no closer to escape, but somehow having managed to further endanger his mate. His mate, who is now facing down threats from the mercenaries of the Wolf's Teeth and the heirs to the throne – and now the Third Blessed Prince.

He's just a tool, whispers a small part of Theo's brain in a pathetic, pleading voice, as if to combat the wrenching feeling in Theo's gut.

He's the best part about my life, and I've just put him in danger.

Luka. Luka, you have to get out of here.