navy eyes gradually came into focus. They jumped between the fruit and my face.
Cruz froze. “Where are all the others?”
I couldn’t get my breaths to coalesce into sounds.
Giya, suds still streaking her hair, strode out of the water. She sank to her knees in front of me and placed gentle, sunshine-scented palms on either side of my face. “He’ll be back, Amara,” she whispered softly but firmly. “He will.”
Cruz and Kiera’s shadows fell over us.
There was no sun and yet there were shadows. How strange.
Cruz crouched, spinning his grimy knife between bloodied fingers. “Can you tell us what happened?”
I swallowed, but the lump inside my throat was so thick that Giya had to explain. When she was done, a tightness appeared between Cruz’s eyes.
Kiera turned away, silent and stiff, and dove into the water. I didn’t know her well enough to read what was going through her mind, but I doubted her annoyance—or was it worry?—had anything to do with Kingston.
Cruz’s knees clicked as he rose from his crouch. “I’m surprised Quinn sided with Kingston.”
Giya sent a chilling glower his way. “Well he did. We’re not liars.”
He lifted both palms in the air, his knife’s blade casting a stripe of light over my cousin’s lethal expression. “I wasn’t insinuating you were.”
“He hates what I represent, Cruz.” The volume of my voice dashed itself against the dam, sending the words up with little sound. “Who I remind him of . . .”
His chest expanded with a sigh. “Kingston must’ve convinced him you wouldn’t have him freed.”
Just as he emitted the hypothesis, a body plunged into the pool. My heart held still, hoping it was Remo, but the head that surfaced was bald.
“I guess we’re about to get answers.” Cruz turned toward Quinn. “I’ve just heard some disconcerting news about your alliances.”
Quinn spit out a mouthful of water.
“Is it true?” Kiera, who’d vanished behind the iridescent curtain, reappeared and was staring at her uncle, her expression as harsh and unbridled as the Great Lakes of her childhood.
Quinn’s gaze narrowed on me. Had he expected to find Kingston down here? Probably.
“Quinn? Your niece asked you a question . . .” Unlike Kiera, Cruz’s tone was placid.
“Yes! YES.” He swam spastically toward the shore.
My lips parted. I’d imagined he would’ve tried to save his hide by painting me a liar.
“The enemy of our enemy is our friend, right?” he yelled, rising from the water.
“Kingston was never our friend!” Kiera said. “And Ace Wood isn’t our enemy; Gregor Farrow is. He’s the one who stuck us in here.”
Quinn tossed a hand in the air. “And who do you think is screwing Gregor’s grandson?” He pointed at me. “She is! So, I’m sorry if you’re disappointed I chose to help him, but I don’t trust her or her little fiancé. Did you know she has dust? She tried to lie to me about it, but I saw it!”
Kiera frowned at him, then at me. “You can use your powers?”
“No. But for some reason”—I displayed my tattooed palm—“I’ve been able to manipulate the dust I confiscated before coming here.”
Her mouth thinned.
“Cruz was aware of it,” I added.
“I wasn’t,” Kiera bit out.
“I don’t know you, Kiera. I didn’t know if I could trust you.”
“You don’t know Cruz either, princess.”
“True, but I felt like I knew him because of Iba’s stories. I apologize for not trusting you.” Then again, had I trusted her, she might’ve told Quinn, and that might’ve changed the outcome of my battle.
Silence fell over us, silence punctuated by a gasp. Quinn’s. “You have the apple.”
When he cranked his neck back toward the top of the cliff, Kiera gritted out, “He’s dead, Quinn.” I wanted it to be true. “Your ally is dead. You bet on the wrong faerie.”
The color leached from his whiskered cheeks. For a second, I thought he might try to run and hide, which, considering the scope of this cell, wouldn’t have been efficient, albeit instinctual.
“I suppose you expect me to bite the apple now,” he muttered.
I tipped my head to the side. “I murdered a man today because it was either him or me, and I chose me, but I have zero desire to murder another one.” I turned my gaze back to the top of the cliff, willing Remo to hurry.
Quinn stalked toward me. “Give it to me.”
Cruz stepped between us. “What do you want to do with it, Quinn?”
“I want to eat the fucking thing and be done with this sorry-ass life.”