Repentance took aim with her paddle and brought a little more trouble crashing down on his head.
He slumped over Tigen on the desk.
She shoved him, so he was draped over the boy's legs. Looking closely, she saw Tigen's chest rising and falling steadily. She would carry him out of the dungeon after she saved Sober. They could drop him in the kitchen. Cook would know how to help him.
She ran past the dungeon master's quarters to the first cell door and opened the window. She could see nothing outside of the little square of light on the cell floor.
"Sober?" she whispered. "Are you in here?"
"Repentance?" his voice was weak. "No, no, no. Tell me I'm dreaming. Tell me you aren't really here."
"That's a fine way to greet your rescuer and future button mate. Get up, Sober, we have to hurry."
He groaned. A moment later he was at the window. His face was battered— dried blood matted in his hair, his nose was bent and swollen, both eyes were black and puffy. He looked at her, shock registering in his eyes. Reaching one hand out, he touched her head. "Your hair."
"It will grow again. Stand back, now, I'm going to open your door."
"You can't open my door." He spoke slowly and was obviously having a hard time understanding what was going on.
She held up her paddle so he could see. "I can." She stepped back to take aim at the door handle. "Move away, Sober."
"No!"
"We don't have time to waste. Tigen is hurt."
"If you open my door, the other prisoner dies."
Another prisoner? "But if I don't open your door, you die."
He reached through the window and cupped her face in his hands. "Yes. I die. Let me die. Go save the king."
"The who?"
"He's in another cell. Find him. Set him free. He'll help you. He'll save Hot Springs."
She shook her head. "I can't do that. You can't ask me to do that, Sober."
He rubbed one thumb over her cheek. "I know you can do this. I know you will do this for me. Let me go to Providence bravely and not crawling like a coward. My parents, Repentance. They're still in Hot Springs. Along with a couple of hundred more."
His eyes, in his swollen, bloody face, were filled with love and sorrow. But they also held a determined light
Tears streamed freely down her cheeks. "You're asking me to kill you."
"No. Don't think that." He brushed his hand over her short hair. "I'm asking you to save my parents. I know I'm laying a heavy burden on you, but I'll die happily, knowing you love me and knowing my death will help so many people."
She shook her head.
"Please, Repentance."
Maybe she could free them both. It took the floor a few seconds to slide back. If the king's cell was close by, she might be able to knock the door handles off both doors.
She crossed to the cell opposite Sober's and slid the window open. "Your Highness?"
No answer.
She went to the next cell, and the next. Back and forth across the hall.
She was met with silence in each cell.
At the last cell, when she slid the window open she heard someone coughing.
"Your Highness?"
"Repentance, is it you?" She heard him scrabbling around. "It can't be. No, it can't be. No one knows I'm here. He brought me down in secret and shoved me in the last cell. No one knows, not even the dungeon master. I'll die here and no one will ever know."
"I have to get you out." she whispered. "The prince is going to destroy Hot Springs."
He hobbled to the window. His face was gaunt, but he hadn't been beaten. "You are real? Not a dream?" He reached out to touch her. "Tell Provocation. She'll get my troopers. Don't go to the dungeon master, he won't believe—" he broke off, coughing.
The dungeon master! She could use his key and open both doors. She was as dumb as a catfish! "I'll be right back," she said to the king, and she turned toward the desk and the unconscious dungeon master.
She took two steps and came to a sudden halt.
Coming down the steps were a pair of men's legs in silk britches. She couldn't see the top of the man but she didn't need to see. She knew who it was.
No time for the key. And no way could she open both doors with the paddle. She looked at Sober's door ahead of her. She could make it. She could leave the king and save Sober.
From the dungeon's master's desk she heard the familiar voice. "What's all this?"
Her heart failed.
She had the paddle, though. The prince was not a strong man. He had other people do his fighting for him. With the paddle, she and Sober could knock the prince over the head and escape. But Sober didn't want to live like Hamchett Banniss—living while others died.
"Repentance," the king said. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you, child."
The king deserved to die. He kept slaves. Sober had done nothing wrong. He was nothing like Hamchet Banniss.
"Are you drunk?" the prince demanded, yanking the dungeon master's head up.
The prince's voice brought her back to the truth. If she and Sober escaped and the king died, the prince would take the throne. And all the people of Hot Springs would pay the price.
Sober didn't want to live, carrying that weight on
