“No, she’s —” Then Tobias caught himself and immediately switched. “Jaron, did you love Imogen?”
If he hoped for a confession, he wouldn’t get it. I rolled toward the wall and closed my eyes. “I loved everyone who’s been taken from me. So don’t tell me when I’m allowed to break.”
Tobias was supposed to have been released early the next morning, but when I dragged myself out of a deep sleep, he was at the end of a whispered conversation with Commander Kippenger. After the commander left, I asked Tobias what they had been discussing.
“I’m a regent of your court,” Tobias said. “That gives me some value as a prisoner.”
This was not the time for vanity. “You have more value to Carthya alive,” I said. “You should be on your way there already.”
“I agreed to stay, in exchange for some real food and a blanket for you. As part of my terms, they’re also giving you today to rest.”
I wished I were strong enough to refuse the offer and force him to leave, but I wasn’t. I desperately needed the food by then and I was almost constantly numb with cold. So I nodded back at him. Even if I disagreed with his decision, I was grateful for it.
The food was brought soon after, but it was done as a mockery to me. A thick cut of meat and large chunk of bread were offered on a heavy silver bowl fit for a king. For as little as I’d eaten over the past few days, I knew the meat would be too much for my stomach. I tried nibbling on the bread, but it felt just as uneasy inside me.
I kicked the bowl over to Tobias. “You should have this.”
“No,” he said, kicking it back to me. “Jaron, that’s for you.”
“I can’t eat it, and they know that.” I sent the bowl to him again. “It takes a lot of effort to push this over to you, so just take it, please.”
He reached for the bowl, but only stared at it. “I made a deal with them. This isn’t what I wanted.”
“I have the blanket, and that’s enough. Now eat. At least one of us needs our strength.” The food smelled so good that it renewed all the hunger pangs within me. So I wrapped myself in the blanket and lay down to sleep.
I remained that way until late in the day when Kippenger came into the dungeon and announced that King Vargan had returned to speak with me. “You promised to answer the rest of our questions,” he said. “The king wishes to ask them himself.”
I didn’t even open my eyes to reply. “That agreement was only if Tobias left safely.”
“He is still here because of the agreement he made on your behalf! Now get to your feet. King Vargan is extending a hand of friendship to you. He invites you to share tea with him.”
The tea appealed to me, but I had no interest in the kind of friendship he was offering.
Terrowic returned, and this time he was carrying a black livery coat crossed in red, similar to his own uniform. I eyed it, but remained silent. I slowly rose to my feet, mostly to avoid the kicks he was so generous in giving me.
With a nasty glare on his face, Terrowic began unlocking the irons that had bound me to the wall. Then he tossed the coat my way. “Put that on.”
“Wear Avenian colors on my back? You must be joking. Get me something else.”
He pointed to Tobias, who sat silently in his corner of the dungeon. “If you won’t, I can break his arm.”
“Or you could say please. Have you no thought other than cruelty?” I reached for the coat, and then held it out to him. “I’m a king and you’re a servant. You should dress me.”
Terrowic nearly hit me again, but Kippenger grabbed his arm first. “You’re nothing but stinkrot to us. Put that on.”
With a sigh, I slipped the coat over my shoulders. I didn’t bother with belting it closed, but Kippenger cinched it tight for me, then ordered my wrists to be chained again. I held them together without fighting. Once I was bound, Terrowic ordered me to follow him.
“I can’t walk,” I said. “You should know that. You beat me the worst.”
If they hadn’t liked me when I was unresponsive, I certainly wasn’t gaining any friends now. Kippenger huffed and ordered his soldier to carry me to Vargan.
“I’ll do no such thing. He can walk just fine.”
“I watched how you treated him yesterday. Even if he can walk, with those bruises it’ll take an hour to get him there. Pick him up.”
With the gentle manners one might expect from a rabid bulldog, Terrowic threw me over his shoulder. That’s when I finally saw my opportunity. We weren’t even out of the prison before I had the keys from around his waist slipped down the sleeve of my coat.
The king was housed in a hastily assembled but elegantly decorated brick building with three steps leading to the entrance. The soldier dropped me on the ground in front of them and told me I’d walk from here or get dragged in by my feet. I got up, but immediately collapsed forward onto the middle step. That was my moment to let the keys fall inside the coat, held up by the tight belt. Before he had the chance to kick me properly, I stood again and limped to the top. That part was not an act. Walking was genuinely painful.