Part 11 (1/2)

”Then prove it,” Blaise demands, crossing his arms over his chest. ”Challenge me.”

He laughs, but this time, the noise sounds more forced. ”Challenge you? That'd be disgracing my name.”

”Disgracing your name?” Blaise questions. ”No, I think you're just scared.”

”How dare you talk to me like that!” Wrath seethes. ”You're the prisoner. You will respect me.”

”I don't respect anyone without a reason,” Blaise replies. ”And right now, I see nothing to respect.”

A loud crash reverberates from above, causing me to shudder.

”Relax,” Blaise hisses at me. ”I've got this under control.”

I want to believe him, but it's difficult when we're the ones trapped in a hole, and Wrath is above, completely free to do whatever he wants.

”Fine,” Wrath roars. ”If you want to challenge me, challenge accepted. You and I will fight to the death.” Satisfaction creeps into his tone. ”I'm sure Zinnia can live with one less prisoner.”

Fight to the death!

”Blaise, you can't do this.”

”Sh ...” is all he says.

Fear hammers through my veins, potent and toxic. I need to find a way to get Blaise out of this. I won't let him die because of me.

”In fact, I think Zinnia might enjoy watching someone from the station die,” Wrath adds, trying to provoke Blaise.

”I'm sure she would,” Blaise responds calmly. ”Sucks to be her, though, since she won't get to see that happen.”

”Who's Zinnia?” I whisper, clutching the bottom of Blaise's leather jacket.

”It's this group of Forsaken's leader, I think,” Blaise says in a low tone.

This group? Meaning there are more than one?

”Wrath, what are you doing?” A woman's voice drifts from above. ”You know you're not supposed to be near the prisoners.”

”I was just chatting with them,” Wrath snaps. ”And besides, I'm supposed to be taking one of them to Zinnia.”

”Are you sure that's all you were doing?” the woman questions. ”Because someone reported that you were trying to collect the girl for yourself. And I'm pretty sure I just overheard you accept a challenge from the male one.”

”He threw a challenge at me,” Wrath grumbles. ”I had to accept.”

”You can't accept without permission from Zinnia,” the woman reminds him. ”And you won't be taking the female prisoner anywhere. Zinnia requested her presence.”

I frown. I have to go and see Zinnia, their leader who-I'm guessing-is the woman who shot me with a dreamland dart?

Fear courses through me. Why does she want to see me? Because she saw my number?

”Blaise, this Zinnia woman saw my number,” I sputter, ”right before she shot me with the dart.”

”It'll be okay. I'll figure something out,” Blaise whispers, but he doesn't sound as certain as he did a few minutes ago.

”Why does she want to see her?” Wrath asks.

”I have no idea,” the woman answers. ”But that's not for you to worry about. Now go speak to Zinnia about the challenge you want to have with the male prisoner and let me follow through with my orders.”

Wrath mutters something before stomping away.

”I'm going to throw down the rope,” the woman calls down to us. ”Have the girl climb up.”

”She's not going anywhere,” Blaise snaps, stepping forward. ”I already told your friend that.”

”Wrath isn't my friend.” She sighs exhaustedly as she lowers a rope into the hole. ”And she will climb up or else I'll be forced to fill up this hole with water and let both of you drown. And I'd rather not have any more death on my hands.”

Rage currents through Blaise. ”You will not-”

”Blaise, it's okay.” I put a hand on his shoulder and step around him. ”I can handle being with Zinnia for a little bit.” I offer him a small smile, even though I'm scared beyond imaginable. ”Besides, it's better than us drowning.”

”I don't like this.” He lowers his voice. ”They know you're a Nameless. That's not good, especially here.”

”I know, but we don't really have a choice. I have to go up there” Telling myself to be brave, I give him what I hope is a rea.s.suring smile before I grab the rope.

Sucking a breath, I spring on my toes, pulling up and wrapping my legs around the rope. I begin to haul myself up, my arms griping in protest every time I lift my legs. Fortunately, the distance to the top isn't very far, because I don't have very much upper body strength. By the time I'm dragging myself out of the hole and onto the dirt, my muscles are throbbing.

I roll onto my back, breathing heavily as the sunlight blinds me.

”You're not from the station, are you?” The woman leans over me, giving my eyes a break from the sun.

I'm surprised by how young she is. She sounded older, but she looks around my age, and like the rest of the Forsaken, she's wearing leather pants and a jacket and has silver cuffs around her wrists and ankles. Her wavy black hair runs down her back with the top half secured in braids. Countless piercings decorate her ears, and her eyes remind me of the ocean. I realize then that, at some point in my life, I've watched waves crash against a sandy sh.o.r.e.

”So you're the one causing all the chaos with Wrath.” She sizes me up, her head tilting to the side. ”I don't really see what all the fuss is about. Maybe, if we cleaned you up, but I don't know.” She extends a hand to me. ”I'm Calla, by the way.”

I hesitate, unsure if I should take her hand.

”Don't worry; I won't bite.” She wiggles her fingers. ”Come on. Hurry up.”

Summoning my courage, I place my hand in hers, and she helps me to my feet. I stretch out my legs and brush the dirt off the back of my pants, noting that we're almost the exact same height.

”You're tall. I usually tower over most people.” She eyes me over with her hands on her hips. ”You can talk to me. I'm not as feisty and demanding as Zinnia or Wrath.”

”Okay,” I say, but I have no plans of saying anything. While she seems a bit more decent than Zinnia and Wrath, I know I can't trust her.

She sighs. ”All right, fine. I get where you're coming from. But if you change your mind, I'd love to talk to someone who isn't from here. It gets tiring listening to the same boring stories over and over again. It's like no one ever wants to talk about anything else other than legends and sacrifices and hunting.” She motions for me to follow her as she strolls down a flattened dirt path and toward a row of tents.

I shuffle after her, stealing glances at the grates in the ground. Most of them are dark and quiet, but every once in a while, I hear someone beg for help. What really makes my heart ache is when a child cries out for me to save them. The imprisonment is too familiar, like back when I was in my cell and listening to the cries of the other Nameless. I loathe the similarity.