He didn’t respond, but the rock he was gripping with one hand began to crumble.

“Your Highness?” There was heat in Tips’s tone. “Lost interest in us already?”

I ignored him. Marc was more important. “Does your word still hold?” I hissed.

His hood jerked up and down once, and a modicum of relief flooded through me. “Can you hold yourself together while I finish this? After, I’ll think of something.”

He didn’t respond.

“Marc!” I clenched his shoulder. “Answer me.”

Slowly, he turned his head so that I could see one eye. It was coated with a thin layer of blood, the vessels breaking under pressure and reforming in an instant. I wanted to recoil away from that gaze, but I didn’t let myself.

“You chose,” he said, his voice thick with animosity. “Do not squander what you have gained.”

His words were a punch to the gut, driving away my breath. Was this always to be my destiny? Hurting those who mattered most with my failed efforts to make the right choices? “I’m sorry.”

“Get on with it.”

I turned numbly back to the half-bloods, only a lifetime of practice allowing me to wipe away all traces of what I was feeling. Tips and his crew were watching us with interest, aware that something had occurred during their discussions, but uncertain what.

“What is your decision?” I asked, finding it hard to care with my cousin rapidly losing his mind behind me.

Tips didn’t hesitate. “We’re with you.” He gestured at his crew. “All of us.” They nodded in agreement. “But as for the rest of the half-bloods… That will take time. They aren’t the most trusting these days.”

My relief at his words felt small and inconsequential. “Until we know more about my father’s plans, we dare not act,” I said. “We’ve got time. Best we keep this between us until we think of a strategy.”

Tips nodded. “Now that we’ve got that settled, you should make yourself scarce. Our cooperation means nothing if we don’t make quota.”

“Until then.” I nodded at the half-bloods, and a few of them bowed awkwardly. Tips did not. He, at least, would take our equality seriously. And frankly, I had bigger concerns.

“Get him out of here,” Vincent said quietly. “And think of a solution.”

“I will,” I muttered. Marc was already facing down the tunnel, but the air was thick with magic that coiled unguided, brushing against me, the walls, the ceiling. I touched the manacle on my left wrist, ignoring the stab of pain while I cursed the steely handicap. Was the punishment worth taking them off? I might end up with more than just the two in my wrists. What good would I be to anyone then?

“Let’s go.” Marc’s voice sounded strange and unfamiliar. Angry. Dangerous.

I’d be punished for taking the manacles off, but if I left them on, there was a real chance I might not get out of these tunnels alive.