He couldn’t fight for one of them without risking all of them.
He couldn’t let her go.
It didn’t matter if they lived in the quarter, or if they had to eat other people’s scraps or nothing at all. They had each other—that was what Ilena always said. They could get through anything as long as they stayed together.
“These alleys are so small,” Petros complained. “We had to leave the carriage on the corner. Such a walk in this heat.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Cassia said again as the guard pulled her from the room. “I’ll be fine.”
With a smirk, the guard closed the door behind him. A moment later, the wood was sealed to the frame by a wall of clay from the outside.
“No!” Elias rammed his shoulder against the exit, but it gave only a small crack. He lifted his hands, trying to peel away the earth with geoeia, but it was solid, like Cassia’s wall bindings. Elias could chisel through it with his power, but it would take time and concentration.
Madoc wheeled on him as he shoved back the table. “What was that? Why didn’t you use your geoeia when I gave the sign?”
“And have him take you too?” Elias shot back as Madoc dropped to his knees at Ilena’s side. “You use geoeia and it proves you’re the one he’s looking for. He could have killed you on the spot!”
“Would you two shut up already?” Danon shouted.
On the ground, Ilena moaned and jerked beneath Madoc’s grip. He didn’t realize he’d touched her arm, or even how hard he was holding on to her, until he drew back, revealing the pink imprint of his fingertips.
“Are you all right?” Elias dropped to his knees at her side, worry drawing his tone tight.
Ilena blinked and prodded her forehead. “Yes . . . I . . .” She grabbed Elias’s arm and pulled herself up. “Where is Cassia?” Her unfocused gaze slid around the room. “What happened?”
Madoc’s head fell forward.
“Petros happened,” said Danon.
“What does that mean?” Ilena’s voice pitched. “Get me up!”
“She should stay down.” Seneca had hobbled over, leaning against the corner of the table as she extended a dusty towel in their direction. “That’s a nasty cut.”
Madoc took the cloth, holding it to Ilena’s head. His nerves were frayed, his blood pumping too fast. He needed to get out of this house.
He needed to bring Cassia home.
Ilena paled further as Danon explained what had happened.
“When is Cassia coming back?” Ava asked, latching onto her mother’s side.
Ilena didn’t answer. Her gaze had turned to Madoc and Elias.
“Fighting?” she whispered. Then, like a shot, she snagged the front of Elias’s tunic in her unrelenting grip. “Fighting? We don’t use energeia—or our fists, Madoc—to hurt anyone!”
Shame sliced through the jagged edges of his emotions. She didn’t want them fighting because of her husband, and they had done it anyway. He pressed his fingertips to his closed eyes. He couldn’t explain why he’d done it. He couldn’t make this okay. He’d wanted to hurt Petros, and instead, Petros had hurt him, just like always.
Elias peeled her fingers away with a muttered apology.
“I’ll talk to Petros. Tell him this was a misunderstanding.” Bracing herself against Madoc, Ilena stood, but one step had her stumbling into the side of the table.
“You need to lie down,” said Madoc.
“Don’t you tell me what to do,” she snapped, but when she wavered again, she gave a reluctant nod. “Just for a bit then.”
They helped Ilena to her room, righting the cot that had been overturned in the guard’s search. While Danon and Seneca attended to her, Madoc and Elias returned to work on the door.
“We’ll go to his house,” Elias muttered as he chipped through the clay along the jamb with his geoeia.
“And what? Ask nicely to get her back? You know what Petros will say.” With his foot Madoc cleared away the gravel that fell. “His house is a fortress, anyway. We’ll never get past the front gates.”
“Then we’ll wait until everyone’s gone to sleep. I’ll make stairs with the stones against the outer wall. We’ll climb over and find her.”
The throbbing at the base of Madoc’s skull increased, spurred now by Elias’s anxiety. Madoc wished he could shut it off—at least dull the sensitivity. Not for the first time, he wondered if something was wrong with him. As far as he knew, no one else could sense others the way he did. It had started when he was young—a flicker of anger or excitement that matched that