Ruined - Amy Tintera Page 0,39
of interest. He held Cas’s gaze almost to the point of discomfort, like he was testing the prince to see how much he really wanted to know.
“Damian,” the Ruined finally said. “My name’s Damian.”
THIRTEEN
EM FLEW OUT of her room, the door slamming closed behind her. A maid looked down the hallway, startled. Em rushed past her and to the stairs.
They’d captured a Ruined. The news was all over the castle this morning, according to Davina. He was being held in a cell on the south lawn and was only being kept alive long enough to spill information to the king.
Her heart pounded as she reached the bottom of the stairs. It was very likely that she knew the man they had captured, since there weren’t that many of them left. Would he leak the secret about their pact with Olso? And if he didn’t talk, would she have to stand by and watch him die, or risk blowing her cover?
The castle was just starting to come alive for the morning, and she edged around the corner to avoid the queen and several ladies walking across the foyer. She headed for the back of the castle, pushing open a door to the west wing. The guards’ rooms were down this wing, and two of them straightened as she walked through the door.
“Have you seen Aren?” she asked.
“I’ll get him for you, Your Highness,” one of the guards said, jogging down the hallway. He knocked on a door, and Aren stuck his head out a few moments later. He stepped out of the room, buttoning his blue shirt as he walked. She could tell from his expression that he’d already heard.
She jerked her head, indicating that he should follow her. He trailed behind her through the castle and into the gardens. They walked through the flowers into the center of the tall hedges, away from any prying ears.
She took a quick glance around before facing Aren and lowering her voice so it was barely a whisper.
“Have you heard a name?” she asked. “Did he talk?”
“The guards I asked didn’t know. And they don’t want us going down there unless we’re assigned a shift. I can volunteer for a shift, but I thought it was best to time it right.”
She swallowed down a wave of panic. “If he tells them the Ruined are partnering with the warriors—”
“He won’t,” Aren interrupted.
“We don’t even know who they have.”
“That doesn’t mean he would betray us. There’s nothing the king could say or do that would make him want to talk. Would you talk, if it was you who were captured?”
She pushed her hands through her hair with a sigh. “Of course not. They would kill me as soon as they got the information.”
“Exactly. Whoever this is knows that too. But don’t go down there, just in case. We don’t want him recognizing you and using it as leverage.”
“What do you think our chances are of being able to rescue him?”
“Not good,” Aren said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But maybe you can convince them not to execute him for a while. If you can stall them, he might have a chance.”
“I can try.”
“They’re saying Cas was there last night.”
“Good. I’ll go find him. I’ll let you know if I figure out who it is.”
“Be careful,” Aren warned. “Don’t blow your cover for this. If we have to let one Ruined die . . .” He lifted his shoulders. “Then we have to let him die. It’s unfortunate, but there are bigger things at stake here.”
He stared at something behind her, and she turned to see Iria crossing the gardens, a grim expression on her face.
“You were supposed to protect them!” Em hissed as soon as Iria was near. “Why is there a Ruined in that cell?”
Iria tugged on a piece of hair, twisting it around her finger. “It’s Damian.”
Em’s heart stopped beating. All the sounds of the garden faded away and were replaced by a loud buzzing noise in her ears, like a million bugs had descended around her head at once.
Damian would never talk. Even though he knew the biggest secret, Em’s secret, he wouldn’t give the king one shred of information.
But he would die.
“How do you know that?” Aren asked.
“Cas went down there. Got his name out of him. Koldo heard it from one of the guards.”
“What?” Em practically yelled.
Iria’s usual smug expression fell into a mask of annoyance. “Would you keep your voice down? Do you want them to throw you in