Page 87 of Hellbound

The ruse spread like wildfire.

The young man stopped muttering. His eyes sharpened. “So…you’re mutilated if you guess wrong?” His laugh began slow and broken. “Well, I’ll come clean then. I look like a nobody, but being that way allowed me to see every troop movement, every supply route from the maps in the general’s war rooms. And believe me, I’d fucking do it again to watch Kraal bleed in those ambushes.”

The thin, peasant man sobered his tears. “You want the spy? I’m the spy. I lived among your people, eating your food, learning your language, bowing to your butcher king until I learned every weakness I could exploit. You Kraalians are helpless pieces of shit. You think you won the war, but you’re still fighting, aren’t you?” His hands grasped the bars of his cell as he bared his teeth at them.

Everyone’s attention fell on the fourth prisoner.

As if summoned, the man eased himself upright, scratching at the blood-spotted bandage covering his head.

“I used my position to gather intelligence in the highest echelons. People tend to speak freely around Envorsen.”

Envorsen? Ksenia’s eyes widened. He looked several years older than her. His nails were clean, and his hair was ruffled but groomed. He had a wide-set, muscular build and a missing leg. His trousers had been folded and pinned up around his knee.

The more uncomfortable the competitors became, the more confident the prisoners were, chatting amongst themselves and throwing insults across the room.

“Easy, easy. Let them struggle with their choice. Any path they choose will bring them suffering. And I, for one, cannot wait to see which one of you loses a limb tomorrow.” He patted the stump of his own leg for effect.

The remaining hours were fruitless, as the prisoners stopped engaging with them and preferred to talk among themselves in Dren.

They could have been in a tavern together as they shared jokes and stories, passing the day and night pretending to be free men. The competitors, on the other hand, had become a withdrawn, sullen bunch, with no food, no sleep, and no water.

Ksenia twisted and writhed in her shackles, but her limbs were pins and needles, exhausted from being pulled in an upright position.

She had a hunch, but she didn’t want to be right.

This was a moral quandary she hadn’t prepared to face, and she could taste bile at the back of her throat.

And if she purposely chose incorrectly, she’d be imprisoned here for life.

However, there was a twenty-five percent chance of guessing the spy. And if Bohdan knew who the spy was, their fate was already sealed, and Ksenia would risk losing a limb to defend her honor.

She couldn’t afford to abandon her mission to save Danika, the children, and her own soul.

She ground her teeth together, eyes clenched tight. Bohdan was sick. Just as sick as his father. The entire kingdom was rotted from the top down.

The final minutes trickled away as the competitors could hear Bohdan’s smooth, languid footfalls echoing from the stairs toward them.

He and his men filtered back into the room and made space in the center.

Radegast’s signature resonance began to bounce, and her jaw set into stone. Her hands were clammy and numb to the bite of her fingernails digging into her palms, and her head pounded from the extended separation from Caromir.

Slow, soft footfalls joined the retinue last as Karsan entered, Radegast at his hip.

Bohdan’s smooth voice echoed. “The trial is coming to an end. I will come around to hear each of your answers, and then judgment will commence. Freedom is around the corner for at least one of you, I hope.”

He entered each cell, leaning his ear toward the competitor. Before long, Ksenia’s prison door swung open, and Bohdan padded in softly before leaning down to her. His breath ghosted over her ear, sending a tremor down her spine.

“Well?”

Ksenia’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, her mouth parched. Her whisper was thin and dry in his ear.

The pad of his finger traced her jawline as he stood upright.

Teasing.

She didn’t like the look in his eye as he did it.

Cold sweat pricked the back of her neck.