“All of them. Just watch where the bodies fall,” Shyla said. “We don’t want our people tripping over them.”

A contained chaos filled the room. Bodies collided, slumped over, and cried out in pain. The hot metallic odor of spilled blood and the sour aroma of sweat polluted the air.

Elek kept up with Yates for a while. Then the captain turned on the speed and Elek was soon unarmed. With his training in the Ways of the Yarin, he was able to dodge Yates’ sword. Eventually the captain wore Elek down. Shyla sucked in a breath, but instead of killing Elek, Yates shoved him toward them. Elek slammed into Ximen and Gurice, knocking both down.

Then Yates was in front of her. She glanced up as he reached for her neck. The memory of him choking the life out of Rendor flashed. Yates had said the prince promised not to kill her, but Yates never said he wouldn’t.

Instead of fingers wrapping around her throat, a cold metal pressed on her skin. She yanked her hands free, but too late to stop the cold from ringing her neck.

As the metal tightened, , Yates leaned closer. “The torque works both ways. To protect and to prevent.”

Seven hells. He’d put a torque on her! A click sounded and her magical connection to everyone was broken.

She clawed at it but it wouldn’t budge. Yates reached for her. Remembering her training, she blocked his arm. Then she countered with a strike with the edge of her hand to his throat. He didn’t even flinch. Instead he crouched down and did a left hook into the back of her right thigh—where he’d stabbed her. His aim was dead on and the intense pain shattered her concentration.

The next thing she knew, she was dangling over his shoulder as he left the cavern. Her hands were free, but he’d hooked his arm over her legs, anchoring her in place. And his fingers dug deeper into her injury every time she squirmed, trying to get free.

It didn’t take long to descend to level ninety-seven. Yates carried her past the guards to the main entrance. The entire level was the Water Prince’s. He brought her to an unfamiliar room—not that she’d seen more than a few the couple times she’d been here. Then he dumped her on the floor.

The impact forced the breath from her lungs with a loud whoosh. Between the pain from her leg and the inability to draw a breath, she expected to pass out—hoped to once she spotted the prince’s black boots standing next to her. But she just wasn’t that lucky. Eventually she recovered and looked up at the prince.

“Knees,” he said.

Yates yanked her up onto her knees.

“Get used to that position,” the prince said to her. “While you serve me, you’ll be on your knees.”