After I’ve had a few hours of sleep, I can then try to figure out my next move.
My eyes flutter closed, but before I drift off, I feel a presence nearing. Jerking upright, I fist my hands and pull them up, ready to strike.
Prince Caben takes a step backward. Then he shakes his head and shrugs off his cloak. Ignoring my raised hands, he balls up the garment and slides it between the stone and my head. Without a word, he returns to his side of the cell.
The crease between my eyes relaxes as I lower my hands and rest my head on the makeshift pillow. The scent of masculine cologne, pine, and oleander settles me, and I breathe in the mixture of the prince and my home. An ache lodges in my throat.
I keep my eyes cracked open as I drift off. Prince Caben may have missed the curious look that the hulky guy on the cot gave him. But I didn’t. The guy stares at Prince Caben now, his huge biceps flexing as he pumps his palms together.
I have never desired a shower so badly before in my life.
Glancing around at the members of our supposed team, I find everyone looks as if it’s been weeks or months since they last bathed. I wrinkle my nose. It smells like it, too. The thought that I may never cleanse myself again scares me almost as much as the idea that I’ll be bathing right along with them—in the same stall.
I rub my thumb over my chest and cringe.
I’ll have to find a way to hide my clamp if that’s so. Staying alive means keeping my secret. I don’t know what these prisoners would do if they discovered it—possibly kill me out of fear or prejudice; viewing me as either a threat or weak link. It depends on how they viewed cybernetics in their own realms.
Best not to find out.
There was no alarm or brightening of the sun to wake us, only the loud clanking from the guards positioned outside our cell. The light in the middle of the room glows brighter, mimicking daytime, or at least what the Otherworlders consider their day. There’s no way to tell the time as it’s continually dark underground.
Now that there’s more light, I can make out the people who share my cell. There are seven of us. Five men and two women—me i
ncluded. They all wear the same dismal blue tunics and pants with a metal cuff around one wrist.
Two of the men look like they come from the same country. Their dusky skin is similar in shade, and they have a tattoo of a swirled feather beside their left eye. I’ve never seen that marking before. They must be from a country outside of the Three Realms.
For the others I assume the same as well, because I surely would have known if people from Cavan had been abducted. But then I wonder if Prince Caben has made any connections—if any of them are from his country, and whether they have recognized him.
I shake the fearful idea from my head. Even if that were so, they wouldn’t out their prince. They would want to protect him, keep his identity a secret after what happened to their king.
With that thought comes another terrifying realization: how am I to keep my princely charge alive?
It seems futile to think after all that has happened that I should keep my orders. But I took a vow to honor my empress. If all that I have left is my duty—if all else is stripped away—I at least have my honor.
Once I have a chance to seek out Lilly and the other Nactue, we can form a plan. Find some way to escape. Until then, my mission is to protect the last heir to the Perinyian throne. Even if that means beating him senseless to stop him from blundering into faux pas in this realm and getting himself killed.
The burly guy who eyed the prince last night shifts his gaze to Prince Caben again. He runs his palm over his shorn hair and his mouth twists into a sneer. It makes me nervous . . . and confused. I figure, at least in here, we are all on the same side. Fighting against the other sets of Cage fighters, the other teams. Maybe he recognizes Prince Caben. Or maybe—
“What’s your rank, baby blue eyes?” the guy asks, pushing off his cot and stalking toward the prince.
Everything in me screams to act, but I don’t want to declare alliances this early on. Not without understanding the dynamic of placements and bonds already formed among these people. But I’ll not let this hulk of a man harm the prince. I brace my heel against the wall, ready to push off and lunge.
Prince Caben rises to his feet, slowly turning to face him. He straightens his spine, squaring his shoulders. “I don’t have one. And my name is Payne. Not ‘baby blue eyes’, meathead.”
Big guy laughs, his husky voice bounces off the rock walls. “I’m Crew”—he beats his chest hard once, like a barbarian—“and I’ve won three fights. I’ll win the next two and be the one awarded the freedom ring.” He leans down toward Prince Caben, leveling their faces. “So don’t even think about you or your princess over there walking out of here. I’m ranked as a Colossal. The strongest Colossal in Bax’s league.”
Princess? I nearly scoff. Then I realize what the problem with Crew is: he feels threatened by Prince Caben. That revelation almost makes me laugh out right. What does a big stack of muscles like Crew have to fear from the prince?
The other prisons slowly circle around the stand-off in the center of the cell. Tension thickens the musty air. It coils around my spine, tightening my muscles. If I allow the fight to continue without interruption, will the guards stop it? They’d want their fighters in pristine shape, wouldn’t they?
Prince Caben doesn’t back away from Crew. Instead, he moves into his space. I roll my eyes. Stupid, conceited man.
“Freedom ring?” the prince questions. “As in, there’s a chance to leave?” He rubs his chin, and I notice the dark shadow of facial hair that has darkened his features overnight. “Is there a season that has to be won, or can someone gain five wins during their entire imprisonment?”
Crew’s eyebrows pinch together. He’s clearly despondent that he hasn’t succeeded in intimidating the prince. “We’re in a season right now, you weakling. If you don’t win—you’re dead. Which by the looks of you, will happen in your first match.”
Prince Caben nods, as if he’s simply piecing together a jigsaw puzzle and not being told of his demise. “What is the cuff for?” He points to the iron clamp around Crew’s wrist.