“Theon—”
He raised a hand. “I don’t want to hear anything beyond you being fine right now.”
“But—”
“Princess, please.”
“You have a right to be angry with me.”
“How I feel doesn’t matter. I need to get you home. Now be still so I can free you before the guards I knocked out wake up.”
he briefest moment, Theon thought he was only seeing things. But it was true. He ran toward Nic and grabbed hold of the front of his tunic.
“Where is the princess? Answer me!”
Nic looked as grave and weary as Theon felt. “You don’t know how glad I am to see you.”
“You won’t be glad when I get you back to Auranos. You’re going to pay dearly for taking the princess away from the safety of the palace.”
“You really think I forced her to come here? Cleo has a mind of her own, you know.”
“Where is she?” he demanded.
“Taken by a Paelsian three days ago. He held a knife to my throat, threatened to separate my head from my body. Cleo bargained for my life by agreeing to go with him.” He looked destroyed by this. “She shouldn’t have. She should have run away. She should have let him kill me.”
Theon’s stomach lurched. “Do you know who it was?”
Nic nodded, his expression grave. “Jonas Agallon.”
Theon finally let go of Nic’s dusty tunic and found that his hands were now shaking. The name was as familiar as his own. Jonas. The boy who’d threatened her life. The one she’d had nightmares about. And Theon hadn’t been here to protect her.
“She’s going to die—or she’s already dead. And it’s my fault.”
“I know where she is.”
His attention snapped to Nic’s. “You do?”
“Had a lucky break yesterday. Been asking around, trying to find out more about Jonas and his family. Learned where his sister lives. They have a storm shed, which is where I think she’s being held.”
His breath caught. “You think? Or do you know?”
“I don’t know for sure since I haven’t seen her, but it’s being guarded. A woman goes in once a day with a tray of food and water and comes out with an empty one. I only left since I knew I had to send a message to...well, to you. And here you are.”
The smallest piece of hope returned to Theon’s heart. “Take me there immediately.”
• • •
If Cleo had learned one thing in her three days of captivity it was this—Felicia Agallon hated her every bit as much as Jonas did. But despite this hate, the girl observed her brother’s orders to bring Cleo food once a day—which consisted of stale rye bread and well water, made palatable only by the addition of honey. The first time, as Felicia scowled at her across the shadows of the small and cold, windowless shed with only a tiny, ragged hole in the roof to let in any light, Cleo looked down at the water with wariness.
“Is it poisoned?”
“Would you blame me if it was?”
Cleo was going to argue, but she held her tongue. “Not really.”
Felicia studied her for a few moments of uncomfortable silence. “It’s not poisoned. Jonas wants you to keep breathing, although I’m not sure why.”
Still, Cleo waited as long as she could before she drank or ate anything. For much of her time, she tried to sleep on a pile of straw, sipped water, and nibbled at the hard pieces of bread. It was as far removed from luxury as she’d ever experienced.