The Destiny Detour

Prison

"I'm neither of those, sir," Drake assured him.

"You must really have done something terrible, Drake. I've never seen Silas quite so unhinged. Nobody has more of a sense of needing to create a just world than Silas over here."

Silas crossed his arms and glowered. "Are you going to lock them up?"

"Of course. Go talk to Meling," the warden ordered Silas. "These two will be questioned by someone other than you as soon as an inquisitor is free."

"But I—" Cade spluttered. "But..."

The warden ignored him. "You look shifty," he told Drake in a pleasant, open sort of way. "You should probably settle in for a long stay. You—" The warden considered Cade with a touch of sympathy. "If you're not what you say, I don't know anything anymore, but the festival has normal operations head over tails, and it will take a while for us to clear up what's going on. For your sake, I hope the inquisitor declares you innocent of wrong-doing, because if you have to wait around for a trial, you'll be waiting a long time with King Hale out of town."

The warden's last four words echoed in Drake's mind as if he had screamed them. Hale and Corin had left Crystal Palace long before Rosaliy and Drake had. Emilia mentioned them stopping by. Had they returned and left immediately? With a festival in town? Unfortunately, Drake was in no position to start asking questions about the leadership of a country. Based on Silas' lengthy list of accusations, the warden would suspect Drake of attempting a militant takeover of all of Kianne.

"Any objections to sharing a cell with your co-conspirator?" the warden asked Cade.

"We're not—" Cade tried to object.

"Right," the warden sighed. "Of course. I was joking. I need to remember to joke less on duty. It's never appreciated."

Cade eyed Drake with the exact look Drake kept expecting from Rosaliy.

"Your other option is a roomful of drunk carousers who smell just awful. It's been a long day."

"No objections," Cade answered warily.

"Good choice," said the warden, shuffling papers over to an already overflowing shelf.

The warden pushed open a door directly behind him. The room was empty except for a pot, a basin of water, and a large ring affixed to the floor.

"I'm betting you know the routine. No way to escape, guards everywhere, running makes you look guiltier than you do already." He took a deep breath, continuing to rattle off warnings. "Next steps if you cause trouble are chaining to the floor and moving to the very bottom of the inquisitor's priority list. Clear?"

There was no question being asked. Drake and Cade filed into the bare room.

"I figured you two would be easy. That's why you're getting your own cell." The door slammed shut. "Don't make me regret the goodwill." Keys scraped in the lock, followed closely by the ominous click of a bolt sliding into place. "If you could keep voices down, I'd appreciate it. Lots of work to do." The warden bent down so his eyes peered in through the slit in the solid wooden door. "I can't think of anything you might need, so don't need anything. Inquisitor will pull you later."

Drake did know the routine, although it usually involved more threats and violence and threats of violence. Regardless, this was not the point at which to attempt a prison break. Attacking the warden with the hidden knife in his boot would have led nowhere but to a swift and justified murder by Silas. Hopefully a distraction would present itself.

"What's going on?" hissed Cade.

He had a hundred very entertaining responses to that question, but Cade was not in the mood.