Agatine (Terres book II)

Chapter Thirty Three

Wren breathed. She tried to concentrate on Elyn's hand on her shoulder, despite the fact that all four of her limbs shook like mad and she could feel the dagger they'd tied to the inside of her thigh, where Seltus wouldn't find it. As long as he didn't look too hard. She swallowed hard. Those words were not a comfort at all, especially not out of Armand's mouth. She didn't feel bad about punching him. She felt even less bad that the punch had loosened one of his teeth.

She did not look to see if he followed from several paces back, or if Rannok still had her back. She didn't know if it made her feel better or worse. It was still a stupid plan, and if it went wrong they'd most likely all get killed. But it was the most decent thing they had, and there were no other options. Not if Wren ever wanted to see Phina again.

She still wasn't sure if that was enough of an incentive. 

"It's going to be okay," Rannok said. It did not calm her. She tried to shut out the stares of the townspeople as Elyn and Rannok marched her through the square like a farm animal, with Armand trailing just far enough behind them that he wouldn't be noticed. He was to storm the basement with Rannok and Elyn and Michael as soon as the chaos started, once Seltus' guards found out he was dead.

Of course, that left too many things unaccounted for. Like how they would know when Seltus was dead, apart from when the chaos and shouts poured from the building. They didn't know where his private chambers were, which meant the guards would probably arrest her and throw her in shackles with the rest of them. She wasn't stupid enough to think they all hated him. It was seldom that a man everyone hated wound up in power in the first place.

The steps that led up to Seltus' mansion came far too soon. They were carved sandstone, inlaid with fine marble that was polished to a high shine that wore in spots from foot traffic. She could see small wells where centuries of footfalls had carved the stone. A pair of guards dressed in leather armor leered down at her. She shrank into the stonework, hoping that if she just did, she could disappear.

"Seltus does not have private audiences," one of them said, a gruff man with a bushy moustache. Wren tried not to look at him, but Elyn gripped her arm and pushed her forward.

"She's one of the prostitutes from the brothel," he said. "We're trading him for this man's sister."

"I said Seltus does not have private audiences," the man said, but then the door creaked open and a man swathed in a decadent blue robe stepped outside.

"Is something the matter, gentlemen?" he asked, as he glanced between them. His eyes made Wren's veins turn to ice. She forced herself to look him in the eyes, then glanced down at her feet again.

"My sister," Rannok said. The hardness in his voice startled her. "We want to trade this one for her. The one with the green wings." He gripped her forearm tight. Wren felt like she might faint.

Seltus' eyes lit up. He folded his arms and leaned against the bannister. "Come inside. Take her, one of you, I don't care which one."

One of the guards grabbed her by the wings and pinned her arms behind her back. He was nowhere near as gentle as Rannok, and she let out a soft whimper. He jerked her a little harder as he led them all inside.

"Your sister," Seltus said. 'You don't look anything alike." He reached for Wren's sides and smoothed down the folds in her clothing. The dagger burned against the inside of her thigh. She hoped the guards would not notice she was shaking as he felt in the folds of her clothing, underneath her arms and around her torso, then down her legs. His touch made her cringe. She was glad he had never come by when she was working. 

"We're not blood related," Rannok lied. She stifled the urge to raise an eyebrow at him. It was impressive, how quickly he'd come up with an excuse, and how quickly Seltus had bought it. It ran a cold prickle over her. Something wasn't right. Something was terribly, terribly not right. She glanced between Rannok and Elyn and Michael, but no one seemed concerned.

Eventually he seemed satisfied and took Wren's arm. "Well, a trade's a trade. Doesn't bother me which one I have; I'll be back with the other girl in a moment." He walked away far enough that they would not hear her scream if she tried. Wren's heart raced in her chest. He opened a doorway and began pushing her down a set of stairs. The walls crashed in around her like ice, and she fought to catch her breath. Eventually they reached the bottom of the landing and he laughed.

Wren's heart leaped into her throat. They were all so stupid. How could they think this idea would ever work. There was only one word in her mind. Run. It echoed through her brain and through the stone walls and she prayed that somehow, some way, they would hear her upstairs and run before Seltus came back to kill them. 

"You must think I'm stupid," he said. 

"No," Wren replied, voice as quiet as a mouse. He shoved her forward with little regard for whether or not he was hurting her. Her wing twisted painfully in its socket and she cried out. They disappeared down a narrow hallway lined with doors. The only light came from a solemn row of torches along the far end, underneath which sat a bored-looking guard. He didn't even look up to greet her.

Wren could hear someone sob, and she bit back tears. She knew this plan wouldn't work, and now she knew they wouldn't be giving Phina back, either. They'd hoped she'd take him to his private chambers. That his reputation had preceded him, and that he wouldn't notice the dagger she carried until it was too late. Her breath caught in her throat with every gasp. She tried to quiet it enough that Seltus would not notice.

"You aren't armed. Did you think my guards would leave me alone for a second? I'm aware that word gets around about my tastes, but your stupid little game won't work. I am not a fool."

Wren glanced around while he pinned her arms to her back with one hand. The noise of a jingling keyring reached her ears. Seltus fished one of the keys out, pressed her up against the wall, and slid the key into the lock. It clicked open, and the rusty hinges opened with a creak. Wren squeezed her eyes shut as he shoved her through it. She tumbled to her knees, bracing the landing with her hands. The door slammed shut.

"Have fun with your friend," his voice said, muffled through the wood. Wren dared crack one eyelid, then the other. Phina pressed against the corner of the room, eyes wide. Her wings clumped together in strands, and her curls were in tangles. There were smudges of dirt on her clothes, where they weren't ripped. Wren opened her mouth to say something, but Phina's opened first.

For a second, Wren thought Phina might start crying, before her face set into a hard line. Wren scrambled to her feet.

"Not you, too," Phina whispered, voice breaking, almost too quiet to hear. 

Wren nearly forgot herself, for a moment. Phina's terror filled the whole room, until it nearly filled her, too. But then she remembered, she remembered that small glimmer of hope in the darkness. The dagger pressed up against her leg. Her face split into a smile. 

Wren stuck a hand up her skirt. Phina's face twisted in confusion, and her mouth opened as if to say something. Wren grinned the widest grin she ever had as her fingers gripped the delicate metal of the handle. 

It was a beautiful thing, inlaid with silver, with a picture of a vine creeping up the handle. the blade was so sharp, Wren wasn't sure how it hadn't cut her as she walked. The metal glinted in the light like a beacon of hope, and Wren's eyes met Phina's.

Phina's face split into an equally large grin.