job. Normal magic had no effect inside Nightmare Penitentiary, but there was nothing normal about our magic.
It was good to be royalty.
Well, it had been until someone decided to slowly drive me to insanity. Right now, I’d much rather be a mortal, living out a normal existence with a pretty wife and a couple of sons.
Guess I had my impending death to thank for my change in perspective.
Once it was clear the guard had moved on, I retrieved Ronan’s sword and offered it to him. It was a show of respect and confidence, both of which he valued greatly. I was proving that I trusted him not to harm Imogen, and when he accepted the weapon, he was silently agreeing.
We didn’t need telepathy for that conversation. Our brotherly bond was ingrained in a way that most people couldn’t comprehend. Ronan, Flynn, and I understood each other, even when we didn’t agree. Which was more often than not.
Turning my attention back to Imogen, I struggled to find the words I most wanted to convey. If my suspicions were confirmed—if she was innocent—there was nothing I could say that would ever make up for what I had put her through.
Eventually, I decided to keep it simple. We need your help.
Imogen
It was very hard to concentrate on helping someone whose brother struggled not to cut my throat.
Ronan narrowed his eyes at me. I bet it killed him to ask me for help.
Blinking slowly, I forced myself to shift my attention to Killian. I didn’t miss the way the tip of Ronan’s sword lifted from the ground toward me every so often.
Perhaps I should have screamed for the guards when I had the chance. Just the thought made me wince. I’d only screamed once while wearing this collar, and it had delivered such unbearable pain, I’d been knocked out for hours.
The old me would have answered, “Yes,” immediately to the princes’ request for help. But the me who’d learned how easy it was for people in power to hurt those with none hesitated.
I was selfish now, and helping them wouldn’t help me. They didn’t even want my help; of that, I was certain. From the hard lines bracketing Ronan’s mouth, I could surmise I was their very last resort. He would have been happier never seeing me again.
And why wouldn’t he? His loyalty was to his brother. Not me. No matter what I’d thought back when I’d been stupid and naive.
Still—
Killian suddenly listed to the side but locked his knees. If I hadn’t known him so well, I’d have missed it.
What do you need my help with? I asked before I could talk myself out of it. Maybe putting some positive out into the world would rebound onto me. There was no doubt I could use the break.
Killian opened his mouth to answer, but Ronan held up his hand. “Don’t.”
You have to tell me what you need if you want my help, I reminded him. Unless he wanted to stand here all day and be cryptic. I could play that game; I had nothing else to do.
“How often have you lamented since arriving here?” Ronan finally asked.
Rather than answer, I pointed to the collar. Duh. I couldn’t announce any deaths or sing any laments.
“None?” Ronan suddenly slid his sword into the scabbard and approached me. I took a quick step away, alarmed by his intensity, and my back hit the cool concrete.
He stopped abruptly and frowned. “I’m—” He cleared his throat and started again. “May I see your eyes?”
The princes were the ones who could read minds, but in that moment, I knew what Ronan had been about to say, and it wasn’t a request. He was going to tell me, “I’m not going to hurt you.”
But he stopped himself, because while he’d never physically hurt me, he had thrown me in a cell until the bánánach floated in through the castle walls to collect me. I’d begged him to believe me, but all he did was sneer, “Look at you! Your guilt is in your eyes and in your voice.”
It was one of the few times I’d ever heard Ronan raise his voice.
I held out my hand to stop him. I don’t want you close to me, I told him. He’d seen guilt once when there was none. I didn’t trust that he wouldn’t see whatever he was looking for now.
He frowned, and I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Ronan, enough.” Killian let out a sigh, as though he’d had it with our