War of the Princes 02: Dragoon by A. R. Ivanovich Page A

there, squinting at me through the light that blasted him in the face. He was taller than before, and by the shape of his plain, dirty clothes, I could tell he had become more muscular. Once fashionable and elegant, he was scruffy now, with blond hair that had grown past his shoulders.
    “You could dim it a little, I can't see a thing,” he complained. “I'm on best behavior, I promise!”
    The lights dimmed and he saw me. No one had spoiled the surprise. His mouth fell open, and dazed, he wandered to the front of the cage to hold the bars.
    “ You,” he whispered.
    Scruff or not, he was still infuriatingly beautiful. Prettier than any guy should have been.
    My eyes narrowed. I could see where the metal ridge poked at his shirt from his collarbone. The unnatural growth was a side effect to consuming another person's life energy. I looked him over, wondering if this was when he would fall to his knees, begging my forgiveness for the wrong he had committed.
    “ You,” he repeated with an edge to it as sharp as any good knife. “It seems you lived.”
    “ So did you,” I said, unwilling to take my eyes off of him long enough to blink. The tension in the room was tangible.
    A fierce smile broke across his face. “Right. Is that what you'd call this? Living?” He pushed away from the bars and stalked in a circle. “All the comforts of home. No windows. No company. No shower. No lavatory but a bucket. No functioning doors. That's right. This birdcage of mine is welded shut, end-to-end. Living . Oh, right! And if I say something they don't like, the lever in that other room winds up my leash here, and snap I go! Right into the wall.” He swept his hand across his table, flinging his few belongings to the ground. Resting his palms on the table, he slumped for a brief moment, staring at its surface. “I can't even hang myself properly.” Turning his head slowly, his hazel eyes found me again. “Is that what you'd call living?”
    I clenched my jaw. “You did this to yourself.”
    “ You did this to me!” he shouted, rushing the bars.
    The chain snapped taut in an instant and he came up short, momentum knocking his own legs out from under him. Hands clutching the collar around his neck, he lay on the ground, coughing. “I didn't do anything!” he shouted at the guards in the other room, dragging himself up to a sitting position. His voice was raw and ragged. “I won't hurt her. I'd never do that.”
    The chain went slack and he leaned over to catch his breath.
    I folded my arms together, refusing to pity him. “You've done enough of that already.”
    He looked up at me through strands of unkempt hair. “What do you want from me, Katelyn?”
    “ Your brother,” I began, but he cut me off with a bark of laughter.
    “ My valiant brother. Such a fair and just leader, he locks away his only living kin to rot.” His words dripped with bitterness. “The two of you are friends now? Bosom companions? A pair of stately heroes worthy of everlasting praise? You're both so perfect. I take it Rune didn't work out for you. Tell me, how long was it before you started moving on to seduce his childhood friends?”
    Boiling anger swelled up in me. “Forget it. I don't need this.”
    As soon as I turned to leave, he stopped me. “Wait. Katelyn, wait. I apologize. Please, don't go.”
    Reluctantly, I faced him again.
    He rubbed his eyes and cleared his throat. “I'm not myself. It's difficult to be anyone worth speaking to, in this place. What did my brother say to you?”
    “ He wants to give you another chance,” I said in spite of my discomfort. “I'm here to look for something. When I find it, I'll return home. Lord Brendon wants you to help me in exchange for your freedom.”
    “ I'll do it,” he said immediately.
    “ Anything to get out of here, huh?” I asked, watching him.
    “ Can you blame me?”
    “ You’d probably be safer here. Brendon told me there's a chance I'll run into the Prince's army.”
    Dylan