He wished they would shut the fuck up.
This was clearly some sort of jail. He himself had been imprisoned long enough to recognize the shackles very well.
A flash of the past blinded him. He remembered that first day, when he had been thrown into the cells on Lightlark, after his father had lost the war. Grim had been ordered to live on the island, as part of the treaty.
And he remembered how Oro had come to visit him.
“What do you think they did to get sent down here?” the Sunling asked by his side, shaking him from the past. Neither of them had taken a single step forward, both studying the clawing, crawling prisoners below.
“It can’t have been good,” Grim said simply.
The closest man to them finally noticed their presence. He was scraping at the ground, hands bloody, as if he could possibly exit this cruel fate, when his head suddenly snapped to the side. A crab crawled through a hole in his decaying face. His flesh-rotten lips curled back, revealing long fangs.
He lunged toward them—then was thrown back as he reached the end of the shackles. He raged on, undeterred, snarling with foam pooling from his mouth. Grim noticed how the Sunling flinched away from the prisoner and almost laughed.Coward.
Some of these people, and these beasts, were clearly not of their world. Was this where the worst prisoners in the universe were sent? How had none of them known about it?
When Grim saw the metal of their shackles up close, he understood why their powers didn’t work here. It was the same type of metal that Isla once had made for herself to cut herself off from her abilities. Down here, withhundreds of chains, they didn’t have to be wearing the manacles to feel their effects.
He hated this material. Grim remembered the day Isla had walked into the dining room, wearing those damned shademade bracelets.
Seeing her in his head, even for that moment...it was enough to push him forward. Right toward that fanged man throwing himself toward them, over and over, hunger clear in his eyes. Did he feed on flesh and blood? It seemed like it. And it seemed like he was starving.
They all probably were, Grim guessed. He pulled his sword from his scabbard.
“Do you have a weapon?” he demanded, staring at the miles and miles of prisoners instead of at his companion.
“No,” Oro said from somewhere behind him.
Grim rolled his eyes. Of fucking course not. He wasn’t surprised that the ridiculous Sunling king would rely only on his power. With a long-suffering sigh, he threw Oro a dagger from his pocket, backward, with perhaps a bit too much force. He had half-hoped that the metal would pierce through his chest, but he heard the Sunling catch it.
Unfortunate.
Oro joined him, wincing as he moved. Grim guessed he had broken a few ribs on his way down. The idiot. To his credit, he didn’t let that stop him as he nodded to Grim once—and bounded forward.
The fanged man shot toward the Sunling, claws extending toward his chest. Oro cut him down with a simple slice through the air.
The man fell to the sand, his throat slashed open.Not bad. Grim immediately buried that thought with revulsion.
Oro was busy fighting off the next prisoner. This one was covered in scales like a snake and had eyes red as rubies. The Sunling didn’t see the man to his right, who had ripped a jagged piece of dead coral from the ground—and was lifting it over his head, ready to strike.
Grim sighed, hesitating for a moment before sending his blade soaring through the air. Oro tensed—then turned, taking in the metal going right through the prisoner’s face. He glanced at Grim. The surprise in his expression—that Grim would save him—was clear. Grim almost rolled his eyes again. Obviously, he needed the Sunling’s help to get his wife. He had made that clear. Otherwise, he would have let him die a long time ago.
He stalked over, ripped his sword from the prisoner who was somehow still standing, and kicked the corpse away, snarling, “Watch your back, so I don’t have to.”
Grim turned, faced the long stretch of prisoners straining toward them with unfettered hunger in their eyes—
And he smiled. Because he might have felt kind of bad about killing people before, after meeting Isla. But if these prisoners were standing in the way of him getting his wife back...well, they were fair game, then.
He stretched his neck to the side with a satisfying crack. Took a deep breath. And raced forward.
Blood spattered. Bones broke. Rotted organs and scattered limbs turned the sand scarlet.
Yes, he really was good at killing. It was too bad he had developed somewhat of a conscience recently.
It was also unfortunate that Oro was actually an asset. It would be far easier to despise him if he had continued to be deadweight.
Even with broken ribs and only a dagger, he cut down everything in his path. Side by side, they battled through the prisoners in their way, leaving only chained corpses behind them. In a place like this, he wondered if death was a mercy. If maybe they were doing them each a kindness. That was irritating.
