Ruined - Amy Tintera Page 0,37

Cas’s chest, and he dropped his gaze from his father’s.

Was this what the hunters did in Ruina and Vallos? They hunted down Ruined and tortured them? Killed them?

Of course they did. Cas knew that. He’d known it since his father issued the order. But it felt different, seeing it in action.

His father took a step closer to him. “If Olso partnered with the Ruined, it could be devastating to us. Do you understand that, Casimir? The combination of Olso’s military abilities with the Ruined’s powers could destroy us.”

“They said they didn’t know the Ruined were coming into Olso,” Cas said. “Do you think they were lying?”

“Yes.” The king ran a hand over his beard. “Always assume everyone is lying. Don’t trust anyone, except those closest to you. You have a tendency to see the good in people, and I admire that, but it will destroy you. I promise you it will.”

Cas’s head was starting to pound, and the screams from the Ruined were doing nothing to help it. The gusts of wind blowing across his face kept getting softer as they drained the man of his power.

“What will you do if he admits to working with the warriors?” Cas asked.

“We will plan an attack. We’ve defeated Olso before, and we can do it again. We just can’t allow ourselves to be caught off guard.”

Cas glanced over his shoulder at the Ruined. He was on the ground, his injured hand cradled against his chest. His eyes fluttered, a moan escaping his lips.

“I understand. But is this the best way?” He lowered his voice, unable to keep back the questions he’d often wanted to ask the past year. “Is killing the Ruined the only way?”

“When you think you’ve come up with a better plan, please share it. I’ll be eager to hear it.” The king walked back to his horse, gesturing to a few guards to follow him.

Laughter sounded from behind Cas, and he turned to find a hunter with his dagger poised over the Ruined’s other hand. The Ruined had his eyes squeezed shut as he waited to lose another finger.

“Stop!” Cas yelled. The hunter jumped away, almost losing hold of the dagger. “He’s had enough.”

Every guard focused on something behind him, and Cas glanced over his shoulder to see his father atop his horse, watching him.

“You want him alive, correct?” Cas asked.

“I do, for now. You can handle his transport to the cell with the guards, since you’re confident he’s weak enough.”

“I’d be happy to,” Cas said. His father gave Cas a look that wasn’t exactly disapproval, but maybe wasn’t supportive either. He turned his horse toward the castle. Three guards followed him.

“How did you transport him to Lera?” Cas asked the nearest hunter.

“Wagon,” the hunter said, pointing into the darkness. “It’s not far that way.”

“Put him in it and bring him to the castle. I assume he’s going to the cells on the south lawn?” He doubted his father would let any Ruined step one foot inside the castle.

A guard nodded. “Those are our orders.”

“I’ll meet you there.” Cas mounted his horse, and Galo and a few other guards rode with him back to the castle grounds. He left his horse at the gate and walked in the dark to the south lawn. Outdoor and sporting events were often held there, but there was a small underground prison at the far end of the property. It was used to house the more dangerous prisoners, the ones they didn’t want sleeping beneath the castle.

The hunters brought the wagon straight onto the south lawn, and one of them had to practically hold the Ruined up as they pulled him out.

Galo grabbed the handle of the door in the ground and opened it. He hopped in first, and Cas followed him down the stairway into the underground cells. It was pitch-black, but the narrow space filled with light as Galo lit the first lantern.

There were five cells in a row to Cas’s left, every one of them empty. A walkway ran between the cells and the wall, and two chairs sat at either end of the room, for the guards.

Several guards descended the stairs, and Cas moved to the far end of the area as the hunters dragged the Ruined down the steps. They thrust him into the first cell, not even the slightest bit gently. He hit the ground on his hands and knees, and Cas studied his dirty left hand, missing its pinkie finger.

“Can someone please bring something to clean