Chapter Twenty-Two

Roshan is spread-eagled on a table . . . and not breathing.

My horror is the only reason that the big Scav with the slashed throat gets close enough to grab me by the throat. “How did you escape?”

he growls.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Aran being restrained by another Scav as a third hovers near the table. Boldly or stupidly, I can’t quite decide which, I counter the Scav’s question with a one of my own. “Is he dead?”

My voice is a wheeze from the pressure of his fingers, but I meet his stare head-on. “Answer me, you sick fuck!”

His lips tighten. “You answer me or I break your neck right here. How did you resist the Jade?”

He snaps the words through his teeth like he wants to grind each one into dust.

“Break my neck and you’ll never know. Is he fucking dead?”

“If he isn’t, he’ll be soon.”

“If he dies,”

I seethe through clenched teeth. “You will not live to see another day, I promise you.”

His lip curls at the corner into a sneer. “And how will you do that, little one?”

He reaches for something at his belt with his free hand. “Perhaps I need to make you more compliant.”

I sense the movement of the injector before I see it. Fear and desire lance through me at the sight of the device with its bliss-filled vial. He drags the point of it up my arm to the base of my ear. My pulse drums wildly, almost veering into the tip.

“I will ask you one more time—where did you get the inhibitor?”

“What inhibitor?”

His fingers tighten with the force of his displeasure, and I feel a defensive instinct flaring in the core of my body. Heat detonates through me as the captain shoves me to the ground and slams a booted foot into my gut. He pulls another set of vials from his belt, but these are bright orange in color. My mind registers dully that it must be some sort of counteragent. “This. Tell me where you got it.”

I wheeze from the pressure of his foot. “No . . . inhibitor.”

My lungs are burning with the lack of air—my star magic is going to defend me no matter what, and I don’t think I’ll be able to control it this time. Fire and fury race outward, shimmering along my veins like liquid flame. The Scav’s eyes narrow at my abnormally flushed skin, the swirls on my arms lighting up beneath the smears of dirt and blood like a macabre web.

“Let me fucking go,”

I say, panting heavily as I try to pull the tide of magic back. “Or you’ll die. I can’t control what it will do.”

“You talk too much.”

With a foul grin, he lowers himself to his left knee, keeping his right boot lodged in my stomach, and slams the Jade injector to my throat. His lip curls and his finger squeezes the plunger, but nothing happens. A faint sizzling echoes between us. He turns the injector in his palm, disbelief flashing across his face. The needle of the device has melted away.

“I warned you,”

I gasp, just as his boot at my belly ignites.

“Lord!”

The other Scavs rush forward as the one holding me stumbles back, stomping his flaming foot on the floor.

Pushing myself upward, I turn my back toward Aran, who has flattened himself against the far wall, watching with wide, terror-filled eyes. He of all people knows exactly what I’m capable of.

“Aran,”

I grind out, “get behind something now.”

Darting in front of Roshan’s motionless body, I clear my head of everything but the power seething inside of me as the creature flexes against my rib cage. Roaring, I fling my palms out, white-hot energy spearing from them in flickering bands. The blast knocks all three Scavs into a heap. They claw at their blistering faces, their cries of pain echoing in the chamber as the temperature hikes to lethal, blood-boiling levels.

Enough.

Enough.

For a victorious moment, I feel the magic respond and slow, halting its devastating, ravenous course. It flickers impatiently as the screams around me turn into weak groans, and I take some small comfort in the fact that no one is dead. They might be monsters, but I don’t need more deaths on my conscience. Not yet, at least.

“Aran, get their weapons!”

I watch as he does what I ask, and then inhaling a deep breath, I tamp down the energy until it’s nothing but a faint glow.

“Get the fuck up,”

I growl to the big Scav.

He obeys, but with reluctance, his dead eyes glimmering with interest, falling from my still-glowing chunk of hair to my rune-covered arms. “What are you?”

“Nothing you want to take on,”

I say, and snatch the ring of keys at his belt. “Now move, all of you.”

We herd the captain and his men quickly toward the cellblock, using the push of my power. I need to get back to Roshan, but Aran is too weak to secure all three on his own.

“Watch them,”

I tell him, after I shove them in a cage and lock the door.

My heart is in my throat by the time I rush back the way we’d come to where Roshan rests limply on the table. My sigh of relief to see his chest moving is audible, though short-lived. It’s hardly rising. He’s alive, but barely. I run a fingertip over his ice-cold brow. Suddenly, his entire body seizes without warning, spine bowing so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t snap.

“Roshan!”

My hands flutter uselessly; I don’t know how to help him. “Snap out of it, wake up. Ro!”

His body convulses uncontrollably as I try to make sense of what is happening. A seizure? Heart failure? A guttural groan bursts from his mouth, and his eyes fly open, unseeing. They roll back in his head, his body jerking. I grab his shoulders, trying to hold him close, and then he goes deathly still.

No, no, no.

Desperate, I place two fingers on the side of his throat feeling for a pulse, but there’s nothing there. No flutter, nothing. Seconds pass in silence, each of them meaning Roshan will be more brain-dead without oxygen, if he isn’t already. My hands hover over his chest. Pulling my magic to my center, I feel the raw energy fill my cells. This isn’t going to be like burning out a poison. I’m trying to jump-start a fucking life.

You’ll kill him. My inner voice is adamant.

He’s already gone if I don’t do something.

With a deep breath, I place both palms on his chest. Please, Vena. If you ever wanted to help guide me, now’s the time.

Sigils race up my arms, and then I swallow hard and push. Roshan’s rib cage jerks beneath my hands, and something thumps under my palm. I thrust forward again, willing my star magic to jolt his unresponsive heart.

“Fight, you stubborn, bossy shit,”

I scream. “Fight!”

I blast my energy forward again, and Roshan’s back arches upward off the table as sparks fork through him. An eerie glow surrounds him for an eternal moment as if he’s suspended in threads of shimmery starlight. And then, as he flops back down, his chest moves and he hauls a breath into his lungs.

My fingers climb upward to frame his face. “Roshan?”

Thick, dark eyelashes flutter open, and those beautiful brown eyes fix on me. “You . . . like . . . me . . . bossy.”

The corner of his lip curls upward into the barest echo of his lopsided smirk, and my tears break free. “Maker, I thought I’d lost you,”

I whisper brokenly, flinging myself forward and peppering his cool cheeks and chin with kisses. He’s still as pale as a ghost, but his pulse is strengthening, and color is coming back into his face. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“M’sorry.”

Inhaling sharply, Roshan pushes himself to a wobbly sitting position, grasping the lip of the table to steady himself before collapsing against me. His body feels like ice, and he smells strange—of antiseptic—but I don’t care about his odor or even my own, I hug him tightly, nestling my body between his thighs.

“I thought you were dead,”

I say, my voice ragged as I clutch him to me.

Gentle knuckles brush my cheek. “It’s good to see you, my starling.”

Sands, my fucking heart. “I—”

Roshan’s lips find mine, and I sigh into them, the tender pliancy of his mouth transporting me out of the horror of this moment. My lashes flutter shut as tears sting my eyelids at the softness of his lips. As if sensing my rioting emotions, his hand winds around my neck, holding me close as he settles me with his kiss. As he tells me we’re in this together . . . and that he’s going nowhere. It grounds me, takes away my fears, until there’s only him.

Only us. No Scavs, no Dustlands, no Jade.

“Where’re my clothes?”

he rasps against my lips, breaking the kiss. Oh, right. He’s naked. It’s a decent signal of my fear that I hadn’t even noticed, though my eyes make quick work of that lapse in attention when I reluctantly disentangle myself from his embrace. I search the room to where his belongings are strewn carelessly in a corner. “Here.”

His face tightens. “The big Scav, did you see him?”

“Big, ugly brute with a slash across his throat?”

I ask, and he nods. “It’s under control,”

I say, waving my hands with a wry smile. “If you hadn’t noticed, this gift has a tendency to defend itself when necessary.”

“Where’s Aran?”

“He’s fine. He’s good,”

I say in a rush. “They’re in the other room. We need to get out of here.”

Roshan stands and sways on his feet as he pulls up his trousers. “Help me with this, will you?”

He gestures at the metal enclosures on the waistband. “My fingers feel like jelly.”

“Sure.”

With a calmness I don’t feel, I close the distance between us and pull on the strap, cinching it tightly around his trim waist. Upon closer inspection, I notice the faint outlines of old scars crisscrossing his skin. My fingers trail over the faded marks, and his body goes still at my touch. “What are these?”

Shuttered brown eyes meet mine. “Overzealous sparring with Javed. He refused to use wooden weapons. Even as a child, he was fond of inflicting pain.”

Inexplicable rage fills me. “I hope you returned it in kind,”

I grit out.

“I, unfortunately, was required to spar with a wooden sword,”

he says as I hook in the closures. “Using a real weapon against the heir apparent would constitute treason, and I was constantly reminded of the fact that I was nothing but a bastard spare.”

“He’s the bastard, not you,” I spit.

Roshan shrugs, then goes to fasten a pair of forearm cuffs. “It was a long time ago, Suraya, and those wounds have long been forgotten. Plus, I was forced to learn to be quicker on my feet to avoid being slashed, and as a result, I am a far better swordsman than Javed could ever hope to be.”

Swallowing the spike of anger on his behalf, I wait until he’s finished dressing. “Who is the Scav leader? Is there one?”

I ask. “We might need someone in power to guarantee safe passage.”

“General Vogon, I believe. He’s ruthless.”

“Shocker,”

I say. “You’ve met Slash Throat. He’s quite the charmer.”

Roshan’s lip twitches at my dry tone. “Then let’s start with him.”

We make our way back to Aran, who seems much more alert now, eyes locked on the prisoners. Slash Throat hasn’t moved from his position leaning against the wall of the cell. The thin gash of his mouth is the only indication of displeasure. “I see you found him alive,”

he says as Roshan appears behind me. “Pity. I always find the most spirited ones taste better.”

“You’re disgusting,”

I say coldly.

The Scav leader smirks at us as if he has a secret, and the almost exultant expression makes me uneasy. “It might be worth your while to go into the next hall.”

“What’s in there?” I ask.

The Scav’s smirk widens as he gestures to the doors. “Go see for yourself.”

“I’ll go,”

Roshan says. “You stay here.”

“Take Aran with you and be careful,”

I tell him, and hand him a crossbow. “Shoot first if anything comes at you.”

While I wait for them to return, I stare down the two others watching me in stony silence.

“Why aren’t you like them?”

I ask Slash Throat, curiosity winning out.

“Addicted to Jade?”

he asks, and I nod. For a second, it seems as if he’s not going to respond, but then he does. “Jade has its uses. I control it.”

“With the inhibitor,”

I say. “Why do you even bother if it makes you dependent on getting a fix?”

He smiles, making his face seem even more gruesome than it already is. “You already know the answer to your question. Didn’t you feel it? What Jade can do? You become invincible. The rush is unlike any other—three parts invulnerability, one part bliss. Mother’s milk to any soldier.”

I remember the feeling that had swept through me when the Scav had injected me. True, the high had been indescribable, leading me to feel like I could conquer the world. I’d felt strong. Fearless. And the pleasure had been infinite. But I couldn’t imagine being so dependent on that feeling, even if I could control it.

My thoughts flash to my magic, and I flinch, shaking my head. It’s not the same. I’m not addicted to using my power. In fact, I have no desire to use it at all, no matter how tough it makes me feel. But I can’t deny the rush of omnipotence it brings or the thrilling taste of the invincibility sluicing through my veins.

“Suraya, get the ring of keys and come in here.”

Aran’s voice filters into the room.

I meet the captain’s eyes. “I told you,”

he says with another smug grin.

Without hesitating, I grab the Scav’s heavy key ring. As I walk down the corridor, the feeling of uneasiness intensifies, curdling in my stomach like spoiled milk. I enter the adjacent hall, which contains only two sealed cells. One is empty, but the other is not.

I peer through the thin bars to see a body lying in the middle of the space—a human body. Roshan is crouched down in front of the cell door, gripping the iron. Every nerve in my body goes on alert.

“Do you know who it is?”

I ask. An ashen Aran nods.

“Open it,”

Roshan rasps out, a shocked expression on his face. “We need to be sure.”

Frowning, I use the captain’s key to open the lock. The door swings open with a soft creak.

The prisoner doesn’t move, only moans softly. He has cropped dark hair, and he’s clad in a band of linen draped over his hips, similar to what Aran had worn earlier. His body, though grimy, is slender but muscular. I prod his bare foot with the tip of my toe. He moans again and then rolls toward us.

Everything inside of me freezes as a heavy-lidded ice-blue gaze collides with mine. Eyes that are imminently recognizable. Holy fucking shit. When he faces us fully, a gasp shudders out of me at the sight of the unsightly burns on one side of his face that stretch down to his neck all the way to his chest. Guilt and horror rush through me; I’d put those there. Clenching my jaw, I shove those feelings away. He’d put his hands on me, and I’d defended myself. All actions have consequences, and he’d met his.

Javed. The king of Oryndhr.

“What in the flaming fires of Droon is he doing here?”

I whisper out loud, rocking back onto my heels. Stupefied, I turn to Roshan. “It’s him, right?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t believe my eyes at first.”

Aran exhales. “How did they capture him? He never would have left Kaldari, not without his kingsguard.”

“He went after me,”

I deduce, my mind racing. “He knew that Coban would be the first place I’d go, and he must have tried to get there in secret . . . and the Scavs intercepted him somehow.”

I throw Aran the captain’s belt. “Give him a shot of the inhibitor, and you take one, too, for good measure.”

Aran blinks, gripping the strap. “Where are you going?”

“To get some answers,”

I say grimly.

There’s sly satisfaction on the big Scav’s face, and the gash on his throat ripples as he chuckles at my return. I swallow my revulsion and school my expression. “Why do you have the king of Oryndhr?”

“Come now, young warrior,”

he drawls. “Surely you understand the ways of the Dustlands. Nothing comes for free.”

“You’re in a cage,”

I counter.

“And my mouth is my own.”

“And what if I cut your tongue from your mouth?”

I respond silkily.

He draws his finger along the raw, lacerated flesh of his throat. “You think I’m afraid of pain? No, little one, out here you must give me something for the price of my information. A question for a question should be sufficient.”

“What is it you wish to know?”

“What are you?”

Curiosity glitters in his eyes. Curiosity . . . and avarice.

“A woman.”

“Not entirely so. That glow from your body, what was it?”

I eye him. “That’s two questions. My turn. Why do you have the king?”

“Our scouts sent word that he was in an unarmed escort outside Coban. And Queen Morvarid will pay a hefty price for the return of her son.”

He lifts his bearded chin to me. “Your glow?”

I pause, searching for the right words. “A gift from the stars.”

His eyes narrow, calculating knowledge sweeping across them, and I falter for a second. Does he understand what I am and what I can do? These men weren’t always Scavs—they became Scavs, and this Scav in particular isn’t like the others. Despite his self-professed addiction, he’s clever. He could be from any city in Oryndhr. From any house.

Holy fuck.

I almost don’t want to ask, but I do. “Where are you from?”

“Your question is vague,”

he says, humor twisting his ugly lips as if he knows exactly why I am asking the question. “I am a Scav.”

“What is your house then?”

“We are the nameless,”

he says with a mocking look. I glare at him and fold my arms across my chest. He smiles, and suddenly, I know the answer before the gravelly reply leaves his lips. “Eloni, formerly the House of Fomalhaut.”