7. Chapter Seven: Theo

Chapter Seven – Theo

T heo knows he must have screamed for too long, for the next thing he becomes aware of beyond his rage and scorched throat – his inability to change form – and Luka's terrified eyes clawing after him, is a dimly lit cell. Afternoon sunlight streams through a breadbox-sized window, warped and twisted by the rain.

The rain… which smells delightful. Speckles of sunlight dart across the sand walls of Theo's cell, like rabbits chasing each other. Theo traces the movement with his eyes, an absentminded giggle escaping him.

Why was I so angry? There's nothing to be angry about – certainly not here.

Theo tries to reach toward the light, but something weighs down his hands. Chains.

Odd.

Theo jingles the heavy weight. Something deep inside him whispers that this is what's trapping him here. But chains cannot have done this – there is something else weakening his… his… does he have a monster of some sort that he can't talk to because of the oddly sweet taste on his tongue?

Odd.

O-o-odd-uh. What a fun word.

Theo giggles again.

"See? Much calmer now, Cath."

Theo looks up – too quickly. The world swims around him, like someone has tossed a stone into a summer lake. Once the ripples have been calmed with blinks, Theo finds two men standing before him.

The one who spoke stands on the right. He is shorter but more muscular, with darker skin and a scar on his unfamiliar face. He wears cowhide boots and snakeskin armor that catches the dim candlelight, turning each scale into a dull mirage of colors. Theo can count three sets of curved knives stored at his hips and one at his calf.

The other Theo knows far too well.

"You!" Theo shouts. The word sticks to his tongue and unspools, sticky as honey. He staggers to his feet to point accusingly, but the world slips around him and he finds himself on his hands and knees, bile wetting his tongue and then the dirt.

"You might have given him too much, Darri," the Third Blessed Prince replies. His bold features capture the afternoon light like a painting; a sharp jaw and deep brown eyes surrounded by a dusting of long, dark lashes. He is annoyingly lovely, but Theo doesn't mind so much at the moment. He wears a simple cloak that conceals his finely jeweled robes. His face cover is pulled back to reveal a disgustingly pretty grin.

Darri snorts. "Are you kidding? He was literally filthy and frothing at the mouth when he got here. I needed something that would let us bathe him." His brows pinch. "Now, if you were going to let your brothers know of him and his upcoming execution, I might have left him to scream himself hoarse – "

"This is far more interesting, though."

Theo looks up to find his enemy crouched. The Third Blessed Prince's golden robes dip into the sands, revealing the toned, smooth expanse of his chest. His eyes are black in the dim. He smiles when Theo meets his stare, baring pointed teeth. "Hello again, Theodori."

"Bassssssstard," Theo manages.

"Far easier to interrogate this way, too," Darri continues as if Theo hadn't spoken. He crouches as well and snaps his fingers. "Kiteran! Tell us what you were planning. Are your people invading us next?"

Theo, startled to find his mouth has a tongue, takes a moment before replying, "Don't be ridiculoussss."

The men exchange looks. "What is your plan here?" Darri asks.

Theo's eyes narrow. His gaze shifts to Cathalan. The terrible stench of smoke sears his memory – the sight of the smooth wooden walls that should have always been his home, the knowledge that the inside was no longer filled with the ones who were supposed to keep him safe – dead now, they are dead –

Theo snaps his teeth against the bars of his cage.

"Get back!" Darri says, throwing out an arm to protect the prince. But Cathalan doesn't move. He remains perched against the bars, his face carefully arranged. He smiles as Theo growls, the expression almost placating.

"You are as I remember," Cathalan says softly. "A mindless beast." He taps against the metal bars. Theo, remembering his hands, slashes out with too-short nails – my beast is gone, he realizes distantly. But the thought is so far away, and this prince he wants to kill is right here .

"Tell us why you came to my city, Theodori," Cathalan orders. "What are you planning?"

This time, Theo cannot keep the words from leaving him in a muffled snarl. "We were planning to –"

Too late, Theo realizes what he has said. He manages to clap a hand over his mouth to silence his tongue – his stupid, foolish tongue.

Poisoned.

As soon as he thinks the word, his mind upends it like a child, twisting it to play with the vowels and that fun s noise. He struggles to comprehend why this is a bad thing. Why is this a thing he must worry about?

"We?" Darri presses.

Truths wrestle on Theo's tongue. He is so desperate to tell these people – surely they can't be as bad as I thought – why he has come to their city. I do need their help after all. What better way to do that than to build trust?

But something holds him back. Something stronger than the slime coating his brain and the pop of laughter that snaps from his lips. No, not something – someone.

"You know us Kiterans never travel alone," Theo says, dragging out the s sound unintentionally. "In packs. Like wolves."

Darri rolls his eyes and Cathalan smiles, though this time, the expression almost looks genuine.

"That makes sense," Cathalan says. "So, what is your pack of wolves planning on doing now that you've broken into my city?"

Theo is so grateful when he sees an easy way out of the question. "Well, it's not your city yet, now is it, Cathy-lan?"

Darri's lips curl into a snarl. " Cathy-lan?"

Cathalan holds up a hand. "That's what you're planning? To take what will be mine?"

"Nothing so hostile." Theo snorts at the thought. "Mustn't damage international relationships and all. That's something they teach in Sevell school, you realize – how to smooth over important people's ruffled fur."

It's partially true; upon being promoted to Sevell, it was stressed that his actions would hold more weight and his choices heavier consequences. Oh, how he wished he listened to those lessons.

"No," Theo continues when Cathalan's lips part to prod him further. "We're here to sssssseduce."

The Balivartian pair both pause. Cathalan gapes. The Third Blessed Prince glances at his guard as if to confirm what he just heard.

Darri says, brows as high as his hairline, "Seduce?"

Theo pats his chest – lightly haired and very firm. "I'm a specimen. Irresistible."

Cathalan barely muffles a snort of laughter. Darri narrows his eyes as he peers at Theo, as if speculating Theo's level of attractiveness.

"Maybe we did give him too much lovelace," Darri finally says.

"He's not wrong," Cathalan manages between laughter. "Masked and made silent, I'd have married him in a heartbeat."

"Don't say such things."

Theo nods knowingly. "That was my strategy before, all those years ago – had I gotten the chance before you struck the killing blow, I was planning on using my wiles then, too."

At this, the Balivartians fall silent again. Only this time, the quiet tastes different. Theo opens eyes he didn't realize were closed – that's why it got so dark!

Both the prince and his guard are still; Cathalan's smile has wilted and Darri's eyes are shuttered.

"Right," Darri says after a long silence. "The Wolf Prince's Battle at the border. How differently we remember it."

How differently indeed, Theo thinks, bobbing his head in eager agreement. Altered as he is, those memories do not draw blood as they normally would. Now, those final moments are softer, sad, but easier to look at; this was the last time I got to hold my parents. This was the last time they told me they were proud.

"Well," Cathalan says, rising and brushing sand from his sparkly robes. "Obviously we're not going to get anything more useful out of him. He's either lying – which should be impossible with the amount of lovelace in his system – or he's telling the truth and he's an idiot."

Darri raises a finger, and Cathalan continues, "Either way, I'll keep an eye out for Kiteran suitors at the debut tonight. I will not be only dancing with Fedryn, though. I realize you and Gli and Vessidra both think he's hot stuff, but he looks more like hot shit to me."

"That's not what I was going to say, but I do think you should offer him at least one chance during the Consort's Snake. He deserves that much."

Cathalan wrinkles his nose.

Theo decides to study the palms of his hands, bored of the conversation. He can't contain his cries of joy when he discovers a scar.

Darri glances back at Theo, frowning. "We should tell your siblings – at the very least the Scorned – the First Blessed Prince. You already showed him off to the commoners. They'll find out soon enough, and it'll be better coming from your mouth."

Cathalan chuckles. "They won't leave the Oasis, not now. They'll want to keep careful watch on their assassins and their tricks to see if any succeed."

"But their spies –"

"Were kept from the spectacle. I was careful, Darri. Do you think me a fool?" Cathalan shook his head.

"You did roll him out in a parade –"

"And my siblings will remain in the Oasis until after the trials for the thrones. They don't speak to the people." Cathalan grinned. "No, I will not lose my upper hand when the crown is this close. This is our leverage over the North, Darri. This is the snake I will pull out of my sleeve when all of our collective advisors summon us and say the Kiterans have finally destroyed the poor pacifist Westerners. How will we defend ourselves? Giving him to Marlacyn and the others will destroy that lead."

"But their trust –"

Cathalan scoffs. "I only needed them when I was handling Father. A King rules without his siblings peering over his shoulder."

"Right. I guess that's just the job of his poor guards."

"Exactly!"

Before their conversation can continue further, a quiet voice murmurs, "Third Blessed Prince?"

Theo squints. Through blurred vision, he can make out the entrance to the dimly lit corridor. A woman wearing dark robes that cover all but her lips hovers at the threshold.

"Sessa!" Cathalan says upon seeing her, eyes widening. "I told you not to bother us while we were down here." He moves to stand in front of Theo as Darri charges forward to close the door.

"I understand that, Third Blessed Prince," the woman simpers. "But an urgent message arrived for your siblings, and I wanted to pass it along as soon as I could. That and… your advisors are… displeased."

Darri pauses. The prince and his guard exchange glances.

"Let us go somewhere private," Darri says.

"Tell us while we walk, Sessa," Cathalan replies, not even deigning to glance at Theo as they hurry from the cells. The prince gestures and Darri places a hand on the servant's shoulder, guiding her curious eyes from Theo.

The woman starts to speak before the sandstone door swings shut. Theo blinks, gazing at the ceiling as her distant words wash over him:

"It's from the Western kingdoms, Third Blessed Prince – from Cesscounthe. The rulers have changed hands, and apparently a criminal has escaped during the process."

The conversation lulls – or Theo stops listening. It's hard to say. He's distracted by the patter of rain against the tiny window.

"Really?" Cathalan says, voice distant. "The attackers from the procession were the Wolf's Teeth?"

Something inside of Theo jerks to a halt. Something grabs at him, desperately trying to get him to listen. He presses his forehead against the bars of the cell, relishing the cool feeling of the metal.

"Yes, Third Blessed Prince." Sessa's words echo through the halls, sliding through the closing sandstone door. "… sent after…"

The Wolf's Teeth. Theo tosses about the words. He's heard them spoken before by a different voice – someone long and lean and so hard, he seemed almost brittle –

"Octavian," Theo whispers.

Kiteran mercenaries , Octavian had said, wanting to hire them to aid their assault on Cesscounthe's wall. Merciless and effective.

"Their trademark is their skull masks and those silly teeth they wear," Theo says aloud. His thoughts are easier to understand when he speaks them.

Oh, yes. I've seen them before – not too long ago now.

With Luka.

And long before that –

Were they not being followed on their way into Hessalar?

But Theo's thoughts are already dissolving as he giggles at the thought of Luka. He slumps against the bars, his hands sliding from the metal to brush against his sides as he remembers that morning they spent together. Oh, if only he had been kinder to Luka. All those cruel things he said… He should have told Luka the truth. If only he told his Siacchian everything.

I saw the Wolf's Teeth going after Luka.

For some reason, the phrase repeats itself in his mind. Over and over, like a claw dragged through the sand, until it makes a deep furrow. Until Theo understands what this means:

Octavian and Linne want Luka dead. And their mercenaries have already found him.

At this realization, Theo nearly loses himself to rage again. His wolf, so faint it appears nonexistent, struggles feebly. His vision strains red. But he manages to muscle it down. He cannot let the beast take hold, not again, not when they have that damned drug on hand.

No. He needs to think to get out of this. He needs to distract himself so he doesn't have to wonder if Luka is still alive.

Because Luka has to be alive.

All I need to do is escape. And then I can keep him safe.