The Deceiver's Heart (The Traitor's Game 2)

“The Brillians have some supplies that might be useful here,” Wynnow said. “Glues, toxins, explosives—”

“Explosives, that’s what I want.” Until then, Tenger had been assessing the layout of the camp, debating with Trina and Basil the best way to carry out a rescue. Now Wynnow had his full attention.

She nodded, then joined him at the window, peering through the streaked glass. With the Brillians’ exceptional eyesight, she was able to locate the prison wagon.

“It’s empty,” she said, “but if we assume they drove the wagon close to where they intended to question Gabe and Kestra, then three tents nearby could be reasonable choices.”

“Is anyone going or coming from any tents?” Tenger asked. “Any of them with guards standing at the entryways?”

Wynnow looked again. “No to the first question, but I do see one tent that is well guarded.”

“They could be in there,” Tenger concluded. “Our priority must be in rescuing Kestra, though if we can get Gabe too, then obviously, we should.”

“The priority must be Kestra’s necklace,” Loelle said. “Whatever its purpose, we cannot risk the Dominion getting that back.”

“Agreed.” Tenger turned to me. “I’m putting you in charge of Kestra’s rescue. Of anyone here, I know you’ll work the hardest for her. Even after—” His tone softened. “Even after what happened. Trina told me.”

“Trina talks to a lot of people,” I muttered, then made myself stand. “Let’s go.”

Tenger would lead Trina and most of our group to the far perimeter of the camp to set off some explosions and draw the Ironhearts to them. A bulky Corack named Hugh would be with us, though his primary goal would be finding Gabe. Hugh only needed a single punch to knock most of his opponents unconscious, so we called him Huge. Wynnow and I were going after Kestra.

“Let me go too,” Basil said to Tenger. “That’s my betrothed in there.”

“Ex-betrothed,” I said sharply.

Basil licked his lips, then said, “I want her back safely, as much as you do.”

“Fine, but don’t get in the way.” Tenger looked around the group. “Everyone ready? The faster we get in and out, the better our chances. Go fast, hit hard, and let’s rescue our people.”

I pulled my knife from its sheath and kept my other hand on my sword, silently counting down from five, then said, “Go!”

Even knowing that Gabe had only taken the leaf to appear dead, he appeared so close to it that I worried he’d accidentally given himself too much. He was slumped against the side of the prison wagon with his head tilted forward, his hands at his side, and his eyes closed.

That’s how he was when the prison wagon stopped and we were surrounded by Ironhearts.

“What happened to him?” one man growled, frightening me enough that I backed against the far side of the wagon.

“He never recovered from whatever you did.” Mustering as much courage as possible, I added, “I think he’s dead.” As soon as the words spilled from my mouth, I felt the pinch again in my chest. Endrick sensed I was lying.

The wagon door opened and lever blades were aimed at me while two soldiers dragged Gabe’s body to the ground. The weapons were ridiculous. Did they think I would fight them with my bare hands, that I could? Gabe was examined by one of the men for any sign of a pulse. He looked up at his companion and shook his head.

“Toss his body,” the second soldier ordered.

I wanted to ask where, and for what purpose. Was it to be tossed into a fire or into a pit for burial? If so, I needed to intervene. But if I did, if I showed any concern for what happened to him now, it would suggest that maybe this was a trick.

Instead, I focused on my plan, to offer enough of a distraction that they would forget about Gabe. I surely could not do this.

“I am Kestra Dallisor,” I said, with as much boldness as I could muster. “Sir Henry Dallisor is—”

“Your father is here,” a soldier told me, offering his hand to help me from the wagon. “We came for you on his orders.”

“With a prison wagon?” I was genuinely insulted by that. If they were going to transport me like a prisoner, I ought to be a prisoner.

“For your protection, my lady, from any further abductions. You seem to be a popular target for that particular crime.”

Simon had captured me once, and Trina. And sometime when I was younger, the Halderians had taken me, I vaguely remembered that now. What would the Halderians have wanted with me? What had they wanted two days ago when they attacked the Lonetree Camp?

“Your father has asked to see you.” He escorted me to a round tent surrounded by eight guards. This is not your father, I reminded myself.