Of all the strange creatures—giant spiders, poisonous snakes, rabid dragons—I had imagined being the source of that noise, two guards playing ball (and completely ignoring my intrusion into their prison) didn’t even crack my top ten thousand.

For one out-of-time second, I think I’m being punked, that this is some elaborate show to cover up whatever is really going on. And then I realize destruction isn’t Hudson’s only power—it’s just the one I’ve focused on the most.

“Hudson!” I yell, my voice echoing in the dim, shadowy room. “Hudson, where are you?”

“Grace? What are you doing down here?”

His voice comes from the very end of the row—the very last cell in the corner—and I take off running for it, key in my trembling hand. Only to have him walk right out of the cell in front of me…because the entire front of the cell is missing.

“You asshole.” The word comes out before I even know I’m going to say it, but as it registers, I realize I don’t want to take it back.

“Nice to see you, too,” he says, and there’s just enough bite in the words to remind anyone who’s listening that he’s a vampire…as if they’d need a reminder when he wears it like a damn trophy.

“Are you kidding me? I’ve been worried sick about you! I fought with Flint—Luca fought with Flint—and then I fought with Nuri, the whole time terrified that they were torturing you, and you’re fine.”

“I’m so sorry to disappoint you. Would you rather they had tortured me?”

“That’s not the point,” I growl at him as I turn around and start flouncing back to the elevator.

“What is the point, then?” he counters as he follows directly behind me.

“The point is you’re okay. You persuaded the guards to play ball; you’ve disintegrated most of your cell…”

“So far not seeing the problem, unless you were hoping to catch me all bound up by those lovely chains in the wall.”

“I was terrified that’s how I would find you!” I snap back. “But you’re fine!”

“You keep saying that. Which means what?” In typical Hudson fashion, he manages to sound befuddled and insulted at the same time. “That you’re not happy about it?”

“Of course I’m happy about it! It’s not like I enjoyed imagining them cutting small pieces off you or—”

“Please,” he says dryly. “Spare me the gory details.”

“Why should you be spared? I imagined it in goddamn Technicolor. Several times. But you’re fine.” I shake my head, trying to clear the last remnants of fear and adrenaline away. “You’re fine.”

“I’m still failing to understand what’s going on here,” he says, and oh wow, is the British back in force in his voice. “You want me to be fine, but you’re upset that I’m fine.” He holds his hands up on either side of himself and moves them up and down like they’re a scale.

“I’m upset because you could totally get away from this at any second—and, in fact, did get away from it—and instead of putting us out of our misery, you left Luca and Macy and Eden and me to worry about you. How can you not see that that’s beyond awful?”

I expect him to scoff at my words, to tell me that I’m being ridiculous. But instead, he just kind of stands there in the middle of the basement and stares at me with the most bizarre look that I’ve ever seen on his face.

“What?” I demand when he doesn’t say anything. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“You were worried about me.”

It’s my turn to give him a look. “Of course I was worried about you! What have I been screaming about this whole time? What did you think would happen? That I would just watch you get arrested and be all, oh well, it was fun while it lasted? Nice to know you think so highly of me!”

“I’m sorry. I just figured you’d know I could take care of myself.”

“I do know that. But I also know that there are a lot of people in this world who can’t be trusted, and most of them are gunning for you.”

“I’m…sorry,” he says again, then blows out a breath. “No one has ever—”

“Oh, no,” I interrupt. “No, no, no. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to pull that whole poor-little-rich-boy shit on me. You know you have people who care about you now. You know you have friends. You know you have—” I break off, folding my arms in front of my chest in a weak attempt at self-protection.

“A mate?” he asks, slowly walking toward me.

“That’s not what I meant!” I tell him, backing away, my heart in my throat for a whole different reason now.

“I think it’s exactly what you meant,” he tells me, taking another step closer to me…which makes me take twice as many steps back in response.

“You can think whatever you want,” I tell him in my snootiest voice. “That doesn’t make it true.”

I turn to head to the elevator, but he grabs my hand. Pulls me back around until we’re face-to-face. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t think about how you must have felt—about how I would feel if it was you they took away in chains.

“They brought me down here, and I saw these cells, and I thought, Blast it. My whole life has been a prison—this is just one more. But this time it was going to be my choice, on my terms, and I didn’t think about anyone else. It won’t happen again.”

I nod, because I understand what he’s saying. And because there’s a lump in my throat—for the little boy who suffered through so many unthinkable things and for the man he’s become.

Because I know he’ll hate my having so many feelings about what Cyrus put him through, I force the lump back down and change the subject. I motion my head toward the sound of the ball being pushed back and forth, still echoing in the basement. “You going to do something about that?”

He seems to think about it. Then says, “A little more time playing a toddler’s game might do them good.” I just arch a brow at him, and he sighs, then says, “Fine. But only because you asked so nicely.”

Then he walks over and whispers something to the guards, who shake their heads and then get to their feet.

When he heads back over, I say, “While you were down here playing, Nuri told me how we might be able to bust out of prison.”

Hudson’s eyebrows go up. “Do tell.”

And so I relate everything Nuri told me about the Crone. Hudson is especially impressed she also gave us directions for how to find her—and skeptical.

“Could be a trap,” he says.

“Oh, I would plan for nothing less,” I agree. “But I don’t think we have a choice. We need the Crone to beat the prison sentence, with or without the blacksmith helping us free the Unkillable Beast. But if we just break out and don’t get the Crown as well…we already know Cyrus is planning something—and we can’t stop him without the Crown.”

Hudson’s gaze narrows on me. “If Cyrus harms anyone I love, I will end his miserable existence.”

I ignore the thundering of my heart at his mention of love. Instead, I stop walking and hold his gaze. “In which case, we’d need a way to break you out of prison regardless. I think we have a good plan. Let’s go bargain for a get-out-of-jail-free card and save the blacksmith and ultimately the Unkillable Beast. If the Beast won’t or can’t give us the Crown, at least we will have saved some people who are suffering at Cyrus’s hands—and that’s better than saving none. We’re not helpless without the Crown. We will fight to protect Katmere and the students there another way.”

“I don’t like it,” Hudson says. “Without the Crown, a lot of people are going to die. I could just end him now. Save us all the trouble.”

“Again, hello? Prison for murder?” I roll my eyes. “Nuri seems to think we have a chance. Speaking of which, how come you can just remove your cuff?”

He looks down at his feet so long, I think he’s not going to answer. “Dear old Dad used to put me in them just before…my lessons. He couldn’t even conceive someone with my power wouldn’t use it to kill.” He shrugs. “It just became second nature to disintegrate one of the locking runes before it was fastened on my wrist, rendering it useless. I didn’t even think about it when I did it to Foster, and then everyone seemed so much more comfortable having me around if I was ‘locked up,’ so I just said nothing.”

I know I should respond to what he told me, but there’s nothing to say that won’t upset him—that won’t make him feel like I pity him—so I gloss right over it. “Let’s head back,” I say, and we start walking to the elevators again.

When the elevator finally arrives, he ushers me inside. Then grins and says, “If I’d known it only took getting thrown in a jail cell for you to show you cared, I’d have locked myself up in the tunnels at Katmere on day one.”

I narrow my eyes at him.

“What?” he asks as we head up to my room. “Too soon?”

“Waaaaaay too soon.”

79

Ball Gown Blues