Two male voices faded in and out. One gruff, the other young. The pain in my head made them sound far away, though they were growing sharper by the moment.

“—explosion?”

“Some sort of magic bomb, they think.”

“Well, is it him?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never actually seen him.”

“Then how do we know it’s him?” The younger vampire’s voice rose in pitch.

“We don’t know.”

“We can’t take him to her until we know for sure. She’d gut us and leave us to rot outside the wall. With the spiders and such.”

“What about the other one?”

“She’s out. Karnax knocked her a good one with the hilt of his sword. I wouldn’t mind getting a taste of her while she’s out. The queen would never know.”

I heard the tinkle of a belt buckle coming undone.

They were talking about Elena. I wanted to rip their throats out. I opened my eyes just enough to see the speakers to my left. I lay on my side in a cage of silver. The skin on my arms burned where it touched the bars. I ignored the sizzling heat.

“Is that a good idea? What if she wakes up?”

“What if she does? She’s weak. Look at her. Practically bled out as we carried her up here. What a waste.”

I readied to jump at the younger one. Maybe I could reach him through the bars. Take the larger one’s sights off Elena.

The door to the chamber creaked open, and a man in noble attire—deep green robes with a crimson sash—strode in. He eyed the guards. “And just what were you planning on doing with the queen’s captives?”

The larger one refastened his belt. “Nothing.”

“Nothing what?” the noble hissed.

“Nothing, Spymaster.”

“That’s better.” He turned toward Paris’s cage. “Is it him?”

“We aren’t sure.”

The noble approached as I continued to feign unconsciousness. “Oh, it’s him all right. And what a prize.” His tone rose with a sick glee. “The other one?”

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” It was Elena’s voice but weak, nothing more than a whisper.

The noble strode to her. She lay crumpled on the floor, in the same position where the guards no doubt dropped her. She pushed up onto an elbow as he approached.

“And you are?”

“Elena de Artemis.” She turned her neck and ran her fingers down the runes there.

“What is a servant of the gods doing in the Underworld with a wanted traitor?” The spymaster knelt next to her and drew in a deep breath, scenting her blood more fully. He ran a finger along the bloodied tear in Elena’s shoulder and brought it to his mouth.

She winced.

He groaned. “You, my dear, are good enough to eat. But first, my question. What are you doing here?”

“Paris displeased my mistress. You may have heard that he tried to woo the great Artemis.”

The spymaster tipped his head toward her.

She continued. “Well, he failed, and instead of smiting him as he deserved, she bade me bring him here. Told me I could collect Desmerada’s reward and spend it how I see fit.”

I now saw the plan that Elena had formed. She had gotten us into the keep, into the very heart of Queen Desmerada’s lair, without a single casualty. Was I angry that she hadn’t told me her plan? Yes. But would I have gone along with it if she had? No. I would never allow her to come to harm. I thought back to what I’d told her of Desmerada. How she would only entertain the weak. Now I was bound, and Elena was injured. She had used every grain of information she had and fashioned a plan. I was willing to bet that the rest of my people were massing for an attack, if they hadn’t already found a way to breach the wall. Brilliant.

“And what would a beauty such as yourself spend such a vast amount of gold on?” The spymaster practically purred. His desire was thick in the air, the taste of her blood bringing out the full predator in him.

“My sisters. Jewels for them.” Elena gave a demure smile. “And me. I love pretty things.”

The spymaster tilted her chin up and took in another deep breath. “As do I.” After he perused Elena for a long moment, he stood. “She’s no threat. Escort her to my chambers after we’re done with the queen.”

The spymaster turned toward the cage, a sharp smile breaking his harsh features. He drew a short blade from his scabbard and ran it along the rails of my cage. “Wake up, prince. Your death is nigh.”

I sat up, some of my skin ripping free and staying behind, sizzling against the bars.

The spymaster gave a perfunctory bow. “Lord Sanguine, at your service.”

“If that’s the case, then I’d like you to serve me the key to this cage.”

He drew a hand to his heart in mock surprise. “Maybe some other time. For now, I go to the queen’s chambers to tell her the glorious news: the blood traitor has finally been delivered to her for judgment.” He smiled, his fangs stained yellow. “She will be anxious to meet you.”

Lord Sanguine turned on his heel and disappeared down a long corridor, his steps fading from earshot. I reached up to the crack in my head and felt the blood dried and the break healed. She had knocked me a good one, though. I shot a glance at her. She looked everywhere but at me.

Her shoulder was healing, though still marred by the gash from the soldier’s blade. I thought back to it and realized the vampires from the woods were the same six of Faren’s soldiers who’d separated from us when we’d first dismounted near the wall. A wave of anger crested inside me at the thought of one of my own daring to harm her, though she, no doubt, was the one who ordered them to do the very thing.

I sighed and sank back to the floor of the cage. Now we could do nothing more than sit and wait for the judgment of Desmerada.