I think it’s Saturday now, which would mean I’ve been a guest in the Commander’s dungeon for a week. The girl from Thom’s Tankard hasn’t been back since she slipped me a paper-wrapped package of medicinal powder on Tuesday. Instead, a plump, stoop-shouldered woman old enough to be my grandmother has cared for the prisoners in silence.
I decide it’s a good thing I haven’t seen the girl again. Thinking about revolution might distract me from the pressing issues already on my plate. The most important of those is escape, but I’m not sure I’m well enough to outrun any pursuing guards as I sprint toward the Wall. I estimate another two to three days before my broken rib will allow me to run without doubling me over in pain.
Less if I can find a cloth to bind my chest.
I suppose I could use the shirt off my back, but I’d prefer not to be so obvious. Especially when Eloise in the cell across the aisle watches me every second of the day like a desperate baby bird hoping for a worm.
The Commander hasn’t visited again, and the anticipation stretches my nerves until I want something to happen just to get it over with. I’d think he’d relish the opportunity to taunt me. Hurt me. Make sure I know he’s won. I decide to take his absence as a sign Melkin still hasn’t succeeded in killing Rachel, and focus on readying my body for my escape. Still, waiting for the inevitable festers in the back of my mind like an infection.
I’ve spent the last few days sitting or lying on the dungeon floor, doing my best to look hopelessly injured while I tighten and hold my muscles until they shake from the exertion. I’ve also done my best to honor the grief I feel for Oliver with a solid plan of action I think would make him proud.
But mostly, I’ve spent my time thinking of Rachel. The way her laugh makes me want to join her before I even know why she’s laughing. The light in her eyes when she stares me down and challenges my opinions. The curve of her hip in the torchlight as she climbs the ladder to my loft.
I used to feel awkward and uncomfortable with the single-minded intensity she aims at anything in front of her, and distancing myself from her gave me peace. Now, the distance between us opens a hollow space inside me that can only be filled by her. I don’t know how to explain it, and I don’t bother trying. It’s enough to know I need her like I’ve never needed anyone else. Once I find her, I’ll take the time to figure out the rest.
I promise myself it won’t be much longer before I’m ready to escape this hellhole and track her down.
My food ran out this morning, but I’m not worried. I won’t be locked inside this cell much longer. Still, when the dungeon door creaks open, I hope it’s the girl because more food means more strength.
But instead of the girl’s light tread, or the dogged shuffling of the older woman, I hear crisp, purposeful boot steps striding toward my cell.
The Commander.
The next confrontation is upon me, and I need two things from it—information and a reprieve from further injury. I flip around to put my injured rib against the wall, out of reach of the Commander’s boot, and begin planning as he orders a guard to open my cell door.
He enters my cell, his scar catching and releasing the flickering torchlight like some macabre game of cat and mouse. I pretend I can barely lift my head to see him. I’ve been pretending this sort of weakness since I woke up cured of my fever, so if he’s had me watched, this won’t raise any alarms.
He laughs, a vulgar, ugly sound full of arrogance. “Look at you.” In three long steps, he’s at my side. “What a pathetic excuse for a man.”
I let my head roll to the side a bit and peer up at him.
“I leave you alone in this dungeon for a week. The great inventor Logan McEntire. The man who always has a plan.” His boot lashes out, connects with my shoulder, and sends me sprawling onto the cell floor.
It hurts, but not nearly as much as I pretend it does. He needs to feel I’m already beaten, or he’ll never give me what I need.
“And here you sit. Still locked up. Still unable to make good on your promises.” His smile is vicious as he plants his boot on the throbbing burned skin of my neck and leans down.
I don’t have to fake the pain this time. Waves of agony roll along my jaw and send dazzling lights exploding through my brain.
“You haven’t beaten her,” I say, pushing the words through teeth clenched tight against the raw, unending anguish eating at me.
He leans closer, grinding his boot into my neck. “What did you say to me, you worthless cur?”
“Rachel. You haven’t beaten her.” I draw in a shaky breath, tasting the leather and steel of his boot on the dungeon’s fetid air. “She’s stronger than you think.”
“She’s a girl alone in the Wasteland with a man who is both stronger than her and has more motivation to do as he’s told.”
His voice oozes his special brand of pride—two parts power, one part blind ego.
Perfect.
“She can take him. She’s smarter than you give her credit for.”
He snorts, but I can almost hear the doubt slipping in.
“You won’t know if you’re right until it’s too late to make adjustments,” I say.
“You’d like me to think that. But when Melkin sends the signal, inventor, you can bet your life he’ll be alone.” He laughs again. “And you are betting your life, aren’t you? Because the second I have what I want, you’re dead.”
He isn’t going to tell me what I need to know. He’s too smart for that. I either need to find another source of information, or wing it once I get out into the Wasteland.
He stands abruptly, his boot sliding across my burned skin like a dozen razors. I breathe heavily, trying to control the waves of pain wracking me, and see Eloise staring at me with horror on her face.
Which is interesting.
She doesn’t want me hurt. Because she can’t stand to see another suffer? Or because she somehow thinks I can stop her husband from becoming a killer?
If I can’t get the Commander to give me what I need, maybe I can force him to convince Eloise to do so instead.
“When the signal comes, I’d look long and hard at whoever sent it.” I curl up on the floor in case he decides to kick any of my vital organs. “Because I’ll happily bet my life that Rachel will kill Melkin when he attacks her.”
“She’s a girl.” The Commander’s voice is dismissive as he walks toward my cell door.
Time to play the big card. The one I hope will scare Eloise into spilling her guts.
“Every other girl in the city was raised with dolls and tea sets and proper etiquette. Rachel was sword fighting, clubbing our practice dummy, and learning how to eviscerate a man at close range with her knife.”
Eloise worries her blanket with nervous fingers.
“Melkin won’t even know what hit him. You’ve sent the man to his death.”
The Commander shakes his head and walks out of my cell. “Do you really think I care which of them makes it back alive as long as I get what I want?”
The cell door slams shut. “Next time I see you, inventor, it will be at your execution.” He leaves, taking his guards with him, and the silence in his wake is punctuated by sharp, gut-wrenching sobs from Eloise.
I wait, willing her to look at me, and finally get my wish. My voice is a thin whisper of sound as I say, “I can stop her. I can get to them in time.”
She frowns but inches closer to the bars on her door. “How? I thought you could get out somehow. The girl said you could. But you haven’t. You just lie there.” Her voice is a faint breath of sound nearly lost beneath the sizzle of the torches lining the corridor. I have to hope the snapping flames and heavy stone walls are enough to keep the other prisoners from overhearing this.
I sit up and face her, careful not to look like I can move with ease. “Of course I haven’t made it look like I’m anything but badly injured. You think they need that information?”
She chews her lower lip.
“I’m telling the truth about Rachel. She’s a fierce warrior. And she went out there already angry and hoping for blood. Melkin isn’t coming back unless I get out in time.”
“Then leave.”
“I will. But I need one more piece of information first. A piece I hope you have for me.”
“What is it?”
There’s no resistance in her tone. She believes me. Believes I can save her husband from becoming a killer, or worse, getting killed himself. I dislike the sudden weight of responsibility I feel in the face of her trust.
“I need to know the signal Melkin is supposed to give the Commander when he returns.”
A frown puckers her face. “Why do you need to know that? Melkin will give the signal.”
“Things happen in the Wasteland. It’s a dangerous place. I give you my word I will do all I can to save both Melkin and Rachel, but if I fail, don’t you want me to have the means to draw the Commander out of the city so I can deliver the justice he deserves?”
“I don’t know.”
“He said it himself. He doesn’t care which of them comes back alive as long as he gets what he wants.”
“If Melkin … if you’re too late, why would you ever come back here?”
“Because Rachel and I aren’t leaving you here. Any of you.” The words roll easily off my tongue, and I wonder how long they’ve been breeding in the back of my mind. Probably from the moment I saw life leave my mother’s eyes at the whim of our leader. I can’t stomach the thought of one more innocent victim crushed beneath the bloody boot of Baalboden. “It’s time for change, and we’re going to deliver it.”
She’s silent for a moment, her hands tearing at the blanket, and then says, “He’s to light a torch in the eastern oak at daybreak.”
The eastern oak is a mammoth tree marking the edge between Baalboden’s perimeter and the Wasteland, in direct line of sight of the far eastern turret, on the opposite side of the gate. I give the Commander credit for coming up with a signal I wouldn’t have guessed on my best day, and nod to Eloise.
“I’ll do my best to reach them in time, but either way, I’ll come back for you.”
Then I wait until snores tell me the other prisoners are all asleep before struggling to my feet for the first time in a week. Tearing my shirt into a long strip of fabric, I wrap my chest tightly and drizzle a pinch of medicine on my tongue. I need to be able to run and fight without the interference of pain. I have the information I need, and if any guard happens to be watching, the Commander could right now be learning of my lengthy conversation with Eloise.
It’s time to escape.