A Book of Spirits and Thieves - Morgan Rhodes Page 0,36
expression. He touched it, feeling the dried blood. “I—I thought they were going to kill you, and all I could do was stand there and watch.”
“They didn’t kill me.”
At least not yet, he thought.
She played absently with her honey-colored braid as if she couldn’t keep her hands still. “My aunt taught me and my sister some self-defense moves once. I tried to punch him, but it didn’t work. My hand went right through his ugly face. I was so scared you were going to die.”
No one had ever been afraid for his life before. It made him oddly happy that this strange and beautiful girl seemed to care about him. That was, until he gave it a little more thought.
“Why were you scared I might die?” he began. “Because if I did, I wouldn’t be able to help you get back to your home?”
Her concerned expression vanished and was replaced by annoyance. “That wasn’t what I meant.”
“I thought that was all you wanted from me.”
She crossed her arms tightly over her rose-colored tunic. “Actually, it is. But you never agreed to help me. Remember?”
“If I were dead, I couldn’t agree to anything. I’d be dead.”
This earned him a sharp glare. “If you’re trying to be funny right now, I’m not laughing.”
He glared back at her. “I’m not feeling all that amusing at the moment, actually.”
Livius regarded him sourly. “You’ve either gone mad as a nightbird or you are communicating with a spirit in an oddly friendly manner. Which is it, boy?”
“Madness or maddening spirits. Neither can help us at the moment.” Maddox tore his gaze from Becca’s and went to the door, in which a small, fist-sized window allowed a modest glimpse at the dark hallway. He could hear the moans of fellow prisoners coming from other cells.
“Is there a spirit in here or is there not?” Livius’s tone turned icy. “You’re avoiding my question.”
His annoyance at being trapped in a dungeon with two of the most frustrating people he’d ever known grew. “Me? Avoid your incredibly important question that helps us not at all, Livius? I’d never do such a thing.”
“You insolent little bastard.” Livius grabbed Maddox and slammed his head against the hard, metal door. Fresh pain screamed through him. “If I hadn’t come into your life, you’d be nothing. You’d have nothing. You would have starved to death long before now.”
“Wrong. My mother provided for me fine before you arrived.”
“Ha! Before she lost her looks, she made most of her coin by taking men to her bed. I imagine your real father was just another face in the night.”
Blood dripped into Maddox’s narrowed eyes from Livius’s most recent blow. “My mother is not a whore.”
Livius grinned, an unpleasant flash of white teeth. “If you believe that, you’re more of a fool than I thought you were. How do you think we met? She offered herself to me for two pieces of silver. A very good deal, I thought. She was worth at least three.”
Maddox turned a look of pure fury on the man, and then, as if a large, invisible hand shoved him, Livius staggered backward and hit the stone wall. He gasped and clutched at his throat.
“See?” Livius said, coughing and wheezing as he recovered from the blast of Maddox’s magic. “You do have control . . . and much greater strength than I’d have guessed. Perhaps this magic of yours can’t be used on the door, but it will work on the guards. When they return, do what you just did to me, but worse. Kill them.”
A moment of heated emotion had triggered that burst of magic, just as it had at the festival, but it didn’t mean he could do it again on command. And stealing shadows, his simplest trick, wouldn’t help them at all today.
“Even if I could,” he snarled, “I wouldn’t. I’m not a murderer.”
Becca had watched all this in silence. “What kind of magic is this that you can do?”
His jaw was tight. “I honestly don’t know.”
Mere moments later, a group of guards entered the cell and marched Maddox and Livius out of the dungeon and into the palace. Becca kept pace with them, never straying out of Maddox’s line of sight.
He didn’t want to show her how afraid he was, so he concentrated instead on the painful grip the guards had on his arms and the fast pace they maintained, at times literally dragging him across the black stone floors.