“No,” she says harshly, eyes flying open. “Don’t tell them. I don’t want them to know. Let them live. Let them believe.”
My heart aches. I think I would say the same.
“If you are here, you are in danger too. Don’t become like me. Like us.”
“But—” Suddenly, my reason for wanting to escape feels hollow. If this is the other option, what I’ve been given is indeed a blessing.
I shake my head. No. Captivity is not justified just because they feed you. They make the alternative so terrible you’re thankful to be caged. They did this to us, both of us.
“Unless you escape,” she whispers. “Get out before he tires of you.”
I blink rapidly. “Before he… what?”
“I’ve heard stories. Many Drahkita come here, to the dungeons, once their…”
“Once their Drak is tired of them.” Does my Drak even want me at all?
“Pleasure him. Make him desire you. That is the only way to save yourself. He’ll do anything for his Drahkita.”
“My Drak doesn’t seem to want me that way,” I utter the words for the first time aloud. My cheeks warm. It is a blessing to be ignored.
But it is also dangerous, I’ve come to learn.
Her eyes fly open. “Then, you must run.”
“How?” I rush out. “How will I find my way out?”
She blinks slowly. “He has a key. Get it from him in anyway necessary. You can use it to get to me, and I’ll show you the way out.”
“Key? I haven’t seen a key.”
“He has one. They all do. You can convince him to give it to you, you can make him want you—but if not…”
I look down at my hands, suddenly feeling very helpless.
“Use the knife you hide. Slit his throat and steal it.”
My mouth drops open. I pat my thigh where my knife is concealed. How did she even know about it? “You want me to… kill my Drak?”
“Yes,” she hisses. “You are connected. He will find you, and he will betray you. Remember, you are nothing more than an object to him. You are quickly becoming more trouble than you are worth; he does not see you as human.”
My stomach sinks. I don’t want to harm him.
Is it my kindness and compassion? Parts of myself I am proud of—or is it naïvety?
His actions have shown that he is not out to harm me, but he is still one of them. He has blood on his hands.
“You cannot trust him. Please do not make that mistake. I can help you get out of here—if you help me. I know the way. We just need the key, and your Drak must be dead!”
My stomach roils with indecision.
Do I trust a girl like me, desperate for escape. Or do I trust the man who owns me?
40
Lina
“Someone is coming.”
