The Runaway King
Page 45

“Yes.” He looked up at me. “Please.”
“Then I accept your offer. With one exception. If I can trade one life for yours, then it must be Imogen’s. Let her go. Assure me she has safe passage away from here.”
Devlin blinked in disbelief. “And what happens to you?”
“You have me. But she walks free.”
“Then release her yourself.” Devlin grunted at the men behind us, “You heard this fool’s bargain. Move aside!”
The crowd parted, revealing Imogen behind them. Tears stained her cheeks and new drops fell again when she saw me. I reached for the ropes around her wrists and began untying them.
“This can’t happen,” Imogen said. “There must be another way. If you finished it with Devlin —”
“He was right. If I took his place as king right now, they’d kill me first and then come for you. At least this way, one of us walks free.”
“Then let it be you,” Imogen said. “You must save your kingdom.”
“You will save it. You must return to Drylliad and expose Gregor’s treachery.”
“No, Jaron. They’re going to kill you!”
Getting killed wasn’t in my plans, although admittedly, the outlook wasn’t presently as good as I would’ve liked. But Devlin still needed me to find that cave. I had some time.
I glanced back at the pirates. Several were tending to Devlin’s shoulder but many more looked my way with fisted hands, waiting for the order to take me. I knew what would happen when they did, and it terrified me. But I didn’t want Imogen to see, didn’t want her to know. The thought of it made my own hands shake, and I had trouble loosening the rest of the rope.
Panicked, Imogen touched my cheek with her free hand. “A king would give his life for his country. But I’m asking you to save it, and not just for me. If you fall, all of Carthya falls.”
Unable to loosen the knot on her right hand with my trembling fingers, I used my knife to slice through the rope. She pulled free, then wrapped her arms around me and said, “If there’s any friendship between us, then you must do what I ask. There has to be a way for you to leave. Find that, and come with me, please. It’s not too late.”
Forcing myself to concentrate, I leaned closer to her and whispered in her ear, “This isn’t over. I didn’t come here to fail.”
“And I didn’t come here to lose you!” Her fingers dug into my shoulders with the desperation she felt. “All that’s left is for you to run. If you won’t do that for me, then do it for your people. Don’t they matter to you?”
“Of course they do.” It hurt that she’d suggest otherwise. I closed my eyes, almost too full of emotion to breathe. But when I opened them again my voice was firm. “Take Mystic and get to Drylliad. Do not come back here. Ever.”
Before she could respond, several pirates grabbed me from behind. They removed my sword and took the knife. Again. I didn’t resist, except for what it took to watch Imogen as she ran to Mystic and leapt on his back. She paused when she saw me and looked for a moment like she might try fighting Devlin herself.
“Go!” I yelled at her.
With tears streaming down her face, Imogen nodded, then kicked at Mystic’s side and disappeared into the woods.
By this time, Devlin had been given a chair and his shoulder was wrapped in a bandage. He’d need better care soon, but it would do for now. They brought me to face him and forced me to my knees at his feet. Refusing to kneel, I shifted my legs into a sitting position. That only amused him temporarily.
“You made an oath to me,” Devlin said. “Can we agree that you violated it?”
Not by my definitions, but again, Devlin wasn’t the type to debate the subtleties of word meanings. And possibly even then I had violated it.
“Any chance we can bypass the cruelest method of death and settle this over a game of cards?” I asked.
Devlin chuckled lightly. “Are you afraid?”
Afraid didn’t even begin to describe the terror I felt. Pinched behind me, my hands still shook. But I was angry with myself too. Because for all my good intentions, it was obvious that I had been wrong to come here. There were so many who would pay for my mistakes.
Devlin leaned in toward me. “You should be afraid. Because I still have my whip and my map of Carthya. I’ll give you as many lashes as it takes until you’re ready to disclose the location of that cave.”
He nodded at whoever was holding me. They yanked me to my feet and dragged me to the same post where Imogen had been tied only moments ago. Dried blood stained the wrist holds of the post. I briefly wondered whose it was and what they’d done to earn a place here. Whoever it had been, the blood had probably come from them trying to pull their hands free. The pirates would let me get to the same point of desperation, I was sure of that. I was equally certain that when they finally did decide to kill me, I’d be grateful for it.
As they began to tie me, I wanted to yell out, to release some of my fear that way, but I held it in. Imogen wouldn’t be that far from here yet, and I didn’t want her to know what was about to happen. If it was possible to scream on the inside, though, I was, and the sound of it was deafening.
My shirt was already in rags, so it was an easy thing for them to tear the rest of it away. Devlin remained in his chair where he could watch me, but Agor held the whip and I could tell by the fierceness of his expression that he relished the opportunity to use it.
“Who are you to make me look like such a fool?” he sneered.
I thought the answer to that had been more than adequately covered, so I didn’t bother to respond.
“You may have defeated Devlin, but in a real fight I could still beat you,” Agor said.
That was unlikely. Agor was too predictable to be very dangerous. But telling him that would only make him angrier than he already was, and since he held the whip, I opted for silence.
With my shirt off, Agor walked a full circle around me, surveying exactly where he wanted to begin. I took deep breaths and tried to prepare for what was coming. It hadn’t been that long since Mott and Cregan whipped me in Conner’s dungeon. And as horrible as that had been, Conner’s strap had been thick, intended to bruise me rather than to leave the deep cuts Agor’s whip would inflict. Mott’s whipping had come as a punishment, and I’d known the torture would end if I just endured it. But Agor wanted something from me. He’d continue until I gave them the location of the cave, or until I was dead.
“Come see him,” Agor said to Devlin, still looking at me. “This is not the body you’d expect of a king.”
Irritated at being treated like a show exhibit, I rolled my eyes, but again I held my tongue. If nothing else, it bought me another minute or two.
Curious, Devlin rose from his chair and walked behind me as well. From where he’d sat, he would already have seen the slash across my stomach from Erick’s thief, and the cut from Roden on my arm. But I was far too thin for someone who was literally given the king’s feast each meal. I was also covered in bruises from my sword match with Agor, I had numerous scrapes from my fight with the pirates just now, and I had the two scars on my back from Farthenwood.
Devlin walked back to face me, but I couldn’t read his expression. It wasn’t quite a look of respect, but it wasn’t anger either.