But by the end of today, it seems I will have lost my sense of safety, my secrecy, and my dignity.

Chapter 18

VORDAN HAS ME CHANGE myself for each of his men. In turn I play the parts of a whore (for Niffon likes a woman who knows what she’s doing), an innocent country girl (Cromis likes corrupting innocence without consequence), and a married woman (because Theris likes the danger and secrecy of an illicit affair).

I’m kept in the cage. Thankfully, the men aren’t allowed to touch me, but I want to punch myself for the foul, coy, and suggestive comments I’m forced to utter. The entire time I’m performing my act, Vordan stands there with his infernal paper and charcoal, making notes as I go.

I vow to shred that parchment so none can read the things I’m reduced to say and do.

“You may stop,” Vordan says after what must have been fifteen minutes of talking to Theris. “Don’t bother reading me. I have seen enough.”

Theris looks questioningly at Vordan. I must be giving him a similar look. If there’s anything that would have made me want to continue using my—as Vordan so elegantly put it—seductive powers, it was telling me not to read him.

I can read Vordan’s desires as though they’re written on a board above his head.

“Oh,” I say, “I can see you wouldn’t find me appealing no matter how I acted.”

Previous to this moment, Vordan has regarded me with nothing more than a pleasant interest, but now he looks at me as though I’m some vile creature he’s found sticking to the outside of his ship. He draws his sword and advances toward me.

“What are you doing?” Theris asks. “Captain?”

Vordan, called to his senses, sheathes his weapon and returns to his parchment.

I’m still stunned. Not because Vordan only likes the company of men, but because I’ve never had to use my abilities on his sort. I didn’t realize there are men out there who are immune to that particular talent of mine. And knowing Vordan is one of them makes the cage around me seem more solid somehow.

“That’s enough for today,” Vordan says. “Grab the boy and supplies.”

Niffon and Cromis start to move while Theris looks disapprovingly at his captain.

“I said to grab the boy, Theris!” Vordan repeats.

Theris hurries to comply while Vordan sizes me up one last time. “We’ll be back tomorrow. I suggest you prepare yourself for another rough day ahead of you.”

At my scathing look, he adds, “Don’t worry. We have weeks of fun ahead of us, you and I.”

Once again I feel my last meal climbing up my throat, but I manage to keep it down as I watch all the men retreat, carrying Riden’s limp form away with them.

Weeks?

Weeks?

Vordan didn’t leave me much time to think of a way out of this while he put me through test after test, but now desperation sinks in.

I have to find a way out.

I can’t reach any of the surrounding trees. On the ground, there’s nothing but tall grass and sand. A rock here or there. Nothing helpful for getting out of a cage.

I have nothing else except the clothes on my back. Useless, all of it.

They can’t keep me in this cage forever, can they? Eventually they have to let me out to—to what? Eat? They’ll feed me through the bars, no doubt. Relieve myself? Not a chance. Vordan has already been extra careful thus far. He’ll no doubt expect me to go in a corner of the cage.

It’s a strange thing realizing all you need is to eat and drink and you will go on living. You don’t need to interact with others. You don’t need to move, run, walk. You really don’t even need to sleep. I can be trapped forever and go on living.

There were some days, shackled deep beneath my father’s keep, when I thought that might be my life. I would live as an eternal prisoner. I refused to use my powers back then. I pretended they didn’t exist. It was only when I was faced with being trapped forever or using them to escape that my father could coerce me into using them.

In the present—though I’m still hesitant to use them—I will use my abilities to survive, but they’re not even an option now.

And what else do I have? Nothing at all.

Wait. No.

I have Riden. But what good is he, being injured and isolated at the moment?

I think on this as hard as I can. My mind is working so tremendously, I don’t even realize when my thoughts turn into dreams. I see myself looking through the bars, watching Theris take blood from Riden as he attacks him again and again. First with his fists. Then with his sword. Finally, he pulls his pistol from his belt, puts it flush against Riden’s head, and fires.

* * *

The shot rings through the air, shaking my whole body. When my eyes fly open, I realize it’s not the sound of a gunshot I hear, but someone banging against my cage with a sword.

Cromis steps away from me quickly once he sees my eyes opening.

“Alosa,” Vordan says, “are you ready to start another day?”

Riden is alive, though bloodied from yesterday’s injuries, lying before me on the ground. He looks up at me and smiles.

Why is that idiot smiling? There is nothing to be cheerful about.

Call it what you will: confidence or conceit. But if I haven’t thought of a way out of this, there’s no way he has.

“Couldn’t sleep, I was so excited,” I say, deadpan.

“Glad to hear it,” Vordan says, unfazed by my sarcasm.

The setup is as it was yesterday. Niffon and Cromis have their buckets back. Theris leans against a tree lazily, one hand on a pistol pointed at Riden, the other rotating a coin around his fingers. Vordan stands straight and sure, muscled arms grasping his parchment and charcoal. A bulge in his pocket reveals he has the map on him again, no doubt so I can be smacked in the face with his victory. I’m proved correct when he catches me staring at it and smiles.

Exhausted and aching from sleeping in a cramped cage, I look downward as I rub my eyes. A piece of fruit and slice of bread sit next to a wooden cup filled with water. Cromis must have dropped them in before waking me.

“Did you get anything to eat?” I ask Riden.

Vordan answers for him. “The boy is to be kept weak. You, however, need your strength. I expect a full day of theatrics, so eat up.”

I poke at the food in front of me distastefully. What if he’s drugged it?