Page 58 of Devoured

I wish Evie were here to shoulder this burden, to say the right thing. I don’t know what I’m doing. And maybe we do need help, because we certainly haven’t done anything that mattered beyond poisoning a single batch of Cora’s wolves. “I never thought you were weak, Portia.”

Her scowl deepens.

“I’m being honest. God—I wish you could feel the truth through my powers. I have never, ever thought you were weak. I am so sorry about Philip—sorrier than you’ll ever know—but Cora isn’t done yet. Her atrocities didn’t end with the massacre. And the Ascension—”

“Was not your fault,” Portia snaps. “You think the rest of us don’t carry equal guilt? You were new to the castle and this lifestyle, but the rest of us—we grew up here. We should’ve known better. It wasn’t on you.”

“Sin crawled through my dreams, Portia.”

“I know.” Her voice softens with her next exhalation, and the hard planes of her face smooth. “I know. But you aren’t alone in this. You have me, and I have allies.” She gestures a hand behind her, to the prisoners who nod and murmur their agreement. “I have been passing them notes. They want to join us. They are going to help.”

“Yes,” a young woman whispers with wide, frightened eyes. Her accent sounds icy and sharp. “We want her dead far more than you ever could.”

I meet Portia’s stare and hold it, looking deep in her gaze until I can almost taste her righteous fury on my tongue. There are still pieces of that soft pacifist inside her, but they’ve shattered. Razor-edged and broken now. I thought I was protecting her. I thought I was saving her from whatever fate Lyra met—whatever fate I’ve been too cowardly to face—but I was wrong. “You want to help me and Evie?” I glance around. “All of you?”

“Yes.” Portia nods emphatically. “We need to exchange information and start coming up with a real plan.”

My stomach continues to churn, however. “If we trust the wrong people and Cora finds out—”

“We won’t, and she won’t.” Portia’s gaze flares hotter. “As long as we can convince others that she isn’t all-powerful, she can be defeated. There are so many armies in this world that will come to our court’s—to my and Evie’s—defense. We’re nobility, Vanessa. That means something to werewolves.”

I see the truth in her eyes and feel its soothing warmth in my chest. She needs this to mean something. She needs her words to be true even more than I do.

I offer her my hand. “We work together?”

She presses her palm to mine, grasping my fingers tight enough to cut off my circulation. “We work together.”

“Okay,” I agree. “But I can’t promise Evie won’t be furious when she finds out.”

Portia flinches at that. “When she returns, you mean.”

I freeze. “What? Where is she?”

“Evie is in Guatemala with Sinclair,” Portia murmurs. “I believe they’re staging a coup.”

A coup.

In Central America.

“What the hell?” I gape at her, certain I misheard, but she waves an impatient hand.

“They should be safe. Cora had to trust Evie in order to send her away. She’ll return; I’m just not sure when.”

That’s something, at least. Even if Cora thinks I poisoned her werewolves, she doesn’t know Evie was involved. “Great.” I look up at Portia and force a small, tender smile. It feels wrong, however. In my chest, it feels like a lie. I should be hopeful. I should consider this the start of a mutually beneficial arrangement. But I can’t. “If we make a single mistake, we’re all going to die.”

“Yes,” she says with a curt nod. “I’m aware.”

There is a pause. A moment of tense silence before Portia offers to help me to my feet. “Come on. I still have some salve left. I’ll heal your wounds, and then we can get you in bed—”

“No. I—I can’t.” I retreat toward my cage. “You were right. The people of this castle think we’re cowards, but that’s the only thing allowing us to gain any sort of upper hand. You need to remain under the radar. If I stay caged, they’ll believe I can still be controlled. They won’t ever think it was my choice to go back.”

I glance at the prisoners, at Portia, before asking, “Can your vines chain me without you being wounded? I don’t want any evidence that you were here.”

She hesitates. “Yes, but… the pain will be fresh again, Vanessa. Your injuries will worsen. You can’t—”

“I’ve survived worse.” I look at an older man and the others surrounding him. “Is there any way to remain awake and coherent? Cora is a Dreamweaver, and she might read my mind if I fall unconscious again.”

“Don’t focus on the pain,” the older man says. “The more you do, the worse it will hurt. Think about anything else. If we see you start to drift off, we will find a way to wake you.”