Kippenger jerked on my chains, forcing me to my feet. Vargan raised a hand to strike my face, but slowly lowered it.
Conner said, “I’ve reserved a spot for him in the dungeons. Jaron will know the place well.”
And as had happened months before, I was dragged from the room. But this time I did not go kicking and screaming. I was taken away without breaking my glare from Vargan’s face. I might have been the one in chains, but he was the one who looked afraid.
I’d had the key to my chains folded in my palms since Terrowic first pulled me off his horse. I had expected him to protect it better since I’d already stolen his keys once before, but he was so angry when he grabbed me that he didn’t even think to check his pockets. I had hoped they’d leave me alone in an upstairs room long enough to make an escape there, but they didn’t. Besides, as far as I could tell, I was without friends anywhere at Farthenwood, so my escape would be brief and my recapture painful.
As they led me down the stairs toward the dungeon, I heard the sounds of another person already imprisoned there and tilted my head to see who it was. Roden was chained in the center of the room, the very spot where Mott had whipped me once. He still wore his captain’s uniform, though it was torn and filthy. With his arms raised, I noted he was thinner than he had been before, but stronger too. He was also bruised along one side of his face, a mark of how poorly his last battle had gone. As bad as he looked, it was a blessing that he was still alive. Well, alive for now. I suspected his was the neck intended for the second noose.
When he saw me coming down the stairs he glanced to his right and mumbled something. He wasn’t alone, then. I wondered who had been captured with him. Maybe the commander of Bymar, or one of the men I’d sent with him.
I didn’t see who it was until we reached the bottom of the stairs and rounded the corner. Once I did, time itself paused. Everything but that single moment vanished, and I feared it was some horrible joke of the devils. For on the far wall, a girl with long brown hair and tea-colored eyes was slowly rising to her feet.
Imogen.
She was in a simple bleached-muslin dress, with no hint of decoration. It was wide at the neck, and I could see bandages wrapped over her left shoulder. Her hair was matted on one side, and her thin face looked dangerously pale.
But she was alive.
How was that possible? I had seen the arrow pierce her shoulder, seen her fall, and every conversation since that moment had confirmed the worst of my fears. Yet here she was, standing before me.
The vigils holding my arms had relaxed their grip while Terrowic unlocked the cell door. The second he opened the door, I twisted around and snatched the keys from his hand. Before any of them could react, I darted into the cell, slammed the door shut behind me, and dropped the keys somewhere on the floor. I was vaguely aware of their curses and threats, but barely took notice of them. My only care at the moment stood directly in front of me.
I had seen her every time I closed my eyes, heard her voice in my dreams, and had replayed that moment with the arrow in nightmares that consumed my thoughts like deadly parasites. Could it be that she wasn’t truly here? That what I saw in front of me was the ultimate joke of the devils — their final gouge for all the crimes of my life? If they wanted one last laugh at my expense, this would be their cruelest trick.
I crossed the room and studied Imogen’s face. I knew every curve, every line. It was her, and yet I could not fathom how she could actually be standing there.
In only a whisper, I said, “If this is a trick, please tell me now. Are you real?” It was a fool’s question, perhaps, but I had to be sure. When she nodded, with my hands still bound in chains, I cupped her face, holding her as delicately as a teacup. Just to touch her sent a flood of emotions through me. My eyes filled with tears, but I didn’t care if anyone saw.
Imogen’s hands were chained separately, connecting her to the wall. But her left hand pressed against my chest, where my heart pounded just to get closer to her touch. Her eyes revealed some mixture of joy and sadness to see me, but within me there was only one emotion. I kissed her lightly at first, then again and again, as if nothing in the world existed but us. Her hand slid over my shoulder until the chain pulled tight, drawing me against her. She wanted me as close as I needed to be to her, and I became lost in the moment, with no intention of breaking away ever again.
The vigils outside of the cell were yelling now, and Terrowic ordered the others to go back upstairs and locate more keys. They’d be angry once they finally got in here. But they weren’t inside yet.
My fingers caressed the curve of her jaw, then her hand folded into mine. She glanced down at our intertwined hands only momentarily, then, when she looked back up, the corners of her eyes creased.
“Tell me that you love me,” I whispered.
“But what if —”
“There are no what ifs, only us. Just say the words, Imogen. And mean them.”
Imogen’s eyes filled with tears, and I worried that perhaps, once again, I had asked for more than she could give me. She bit into her lip and finally said, “Jaron, I can’t —”
She stopped there, and my heart sank. That she was alive gave me an immeasurable happiness, but it wasn’t enough. I loved her, and needed her like I needed the beat of my heart. But none of it was complete unless I knew she could feel even the smallest part of that for me.
I began to say something, but she wasn’t finished. “I can’t remember a minute since we met when I haven’t been in love with you.”
A smile spread across my face, and I moved in to kiss her again, but by then, the vigils had gotten into the cell. One grabbed my shoulders and threw me to the far side of the dungeons. I hit the floor not far from the bandages Mott had used months ago to wrap the injury from my whipping here. Another vigil yanked me back to my feet while Terrowic raised an arm to take a swing at me.
“You leave so much as the smell of dirt on me and Vargan will hear about it,” I snarled. “No marks, remember?”
His expression turned murderous, but I was equally angry. His timing couldn’t possibly have been worse, and I wouldn’t forgive him for that.
They chained me to the wall, much as they had kept me in Vargan’s camp. Terrowic surveyed me as though he wanted a way to get in a hit without Vargan noticing. Before he chose a spot, I sat on the ground. I didn’t want a fight and certainly didn’t need another injury. I only wanted him to leave so that I could speak with Roden and Imogen alone.
Against all odds, Roden had survived the latest battle with Mendenwal. And against even greater odds, Imogen was also alive. I had never been one to believe the saints still granted miracles to the living, but maybe they did. There was no other explanation for either of them being here.
“You enjoy this moment all you want,” Terrowic said. “Tomorrow morning they’ll hang you like a common thief.”