Rebel Spring

CHAPTER 33

LYSANDRA

AURANOS

Lysandra stumbled as a guard shoved her into a dark and crowded cell, and she fell hard to the dirt floor. The stone walls were damp and smelled of mildew and death. At the top of the tall wall, there was a small window no bigger than her hand, just large enough to let in a ray of sunshine, taunting her with the freedom that had finally been stolen from her.

Only five of them had made it to their destination alive. Phineas had spoken up during the trip to the Auranian dungeon, mouthed off to a guard, and had his throat cut immediately, his body tossed off the side of a bridge.

The rest remained silent after this. Lysandra held tightly on to Tarus’s sweaty hand most of the way. The young boy was terrified, but he tried to be brave. For her. She didn’t know what had become of Jonas, but she refused to believe he was dead.

Why? So many of them had fallen.

But maybe Jonas was one of those who’d gotten away. Maybe he was, even now, mounting a rescue attempt.

No. She wouldn’t let herself think of such things that could only lead to disappointment.

If she was going to get out of here, she’d have to do it herself.

Somehow.

She looked up at the tiny window bleakly. It was hopeless and she knew it. A tear slid down her cheek.

“Little Lys, don’t cry.” The familiar voice reached out from the darkness.

Her head snapped to the boy sitting in the corner.

“Gregor?” She couldn’t believe her own eyes. She ran to her brother’s side, dropping down next to him. She grabbed his dirty hands in hers to prove this was real. “You’re here. You’re alive!”

“Barely.” He tried to smile. “It’s so good to see you, sister.”

“I thought you were dead! I searched for you in the road camps, but I couldn’t find you anywhere!”

“I escaped and made my way to Limeros but was captured a couple weeks ago. They carted me all the way here on orders from the prince himself. Been in here ever since. Not much longer, though. I think they’re finally finished asking me questions. They never seem satisfied with my answers. Only my death will please them now.”

“Don’t talk like that. This is what I needed, Gregor.” Her heart grew lighter than it had in days. In weeks! “This is the sign I needed that everything’s going to be all right. We’re alive, we’re together again, and we’re going to get out of this.”

His gaze grew distant. “That’s what she told me, too. She always told me to have hope. I wish I could see her again, but she hasn’t visited me for weeks.”

Lysandra glanced around the small, stinking cell, her gaze moving over the other prisoners, some of whom were sleeping. “See who?”

“The girl made of gold and silver.”

“What?”

“She told me her name is Phaedra. She’s visited me in my dreams, told me to be patient. That I will find new hope. I figure she must have been talking about you. They put you in my cell, Lys. Mine. In a place as big as this-that has to mean something, right?”

“Who is she? What do you mean she visited you in your dreams?”

He looked past her, his expression wistful. “She’s a Watcher, little Lys. She told me not to despair. That I could still make a difference. . and that there were others like me who could help. I thought she was mad.”

“A Watcher visited you in your dreams,” Lysandra said with disbelief. “Perhaps she’s not the one who’s mad.”

He laughed, the sound dry and brittle. “You could be right.”

“What else did this Watcher tell you?”

Gregor’s brows drew together and he squeezed Lysandra’s hands. “She said when the sorceress’s blood is spilled and the sacrifice is made, they will finally be free.” Her brother’s haunted eyes met hers. “And the world will burn. That’s what she said, little Lys. The world will burn.”