He paused, his voice softening when she had no retort. “None of us expected this to happen. There’s no grand plan to keep you confined—all any of us are trying to do is keep you safe.”
“That’s what Jaxon said too.”
Thorne’s shoulders stiffened, but he didn’t answer—didn’t defend Loren. Neither of them spoke again, the only sound in the deserted halls the rhythmic tread of their boots on the dust-covered stone.
“Here we go,” Thorne said finally. He stopped in front of a wooden door, pushing it open. “This is you.”
Araya wrinkled her nose, sneezing as a rush of stale air and dust hit her. A four-poster bed loomed against the far wall, its once-fine drapes and linens gray and stiff with age. A thick layer of dust coated the wardrobe and the small table and chairs in front of the cold, empty hearth.
“I’ll sleep on the boat,” she said, falling back a step.
Thorne just laughed, stepping into the room.
Magic stirred in the air, plumes of dust lifting in slow, swirlingstreams only to vanish like smoke. The bedsheets stretched and smoothed themselves, the fabric darkening to a deep, rich green. In the hearth, flames leapt to life without kindling, feeding on nothing but the shimmer of power in the air.
All without a single rune or sigil—gods, he hadn’t even spoken or gestured. Just like how Nyra had heated the water with nothing but her will.
Araya’s mind buzzed with questions.How? Could anyone do it? Did it require training, or just… desire? But she clenched her jaw, swallowing the questions back. She refused to be impressed—not by them.
“So,” she said instead, stepping warily inside. “This is my cell?”
Thorne watched her, his amber eyes unreadable. “It’s your room.”
“Do I get a key?” Araya asked sweetly. “Or should I assume the door will be locked from the outside?”
Thorne’s jaw ticked. “It will be locked.”
“Because I’m a prisoner?”
“No.” He exhaled sharply. “Because this island is dangerous, and Loren wants you safe. We all do. If you need anything, knock. Someone will hear you.”
“And unlock my cell?”
“If that’s what you insist on calling it,” Thorne said flatly. “But you’re safer here than anywhere else, whether you want to admit it or not. And I have to say, Araya—” he held her gaze, his eyes blazing. “You seem like averylucky prisoner. I don’t know where the Arcanum kept Loren for the past twenty-five years, but I imagine it wasn’t half as nice as this.”
Araya glared at him, shoving away the hollow pang of guilt that echoed in her chest. They haddruggedher.
“And where, exactly, is his Royal Highness?”
“He’s busy.”
Araya scoffed. “I’m sure he is,” she said, her voice drippingvenom. “Does he intend to show his face? Or was he planning to kidnap me and then just… pretend I don’t exist?”
Thorne’s jaw tightened again, but this time, he didn’t rise to her bait. “I’ll let him know you’d like to speak with him. Enjoy the room, Araya.”
He didn’t wait for her reply. Instead, he turned and stepped into the hall, closing the door with a softclick. The sound of the lock sliding into place was louder, echoing like a thunderclap in the silence that followed.
Araya stared at the door for a moment. Then, with a growl, she stalked to the window and threw herself down on the bench, glaring down at the dead garden. The statues and hedges were strangled by vines, their beauty choked by neglect. Beyond the garden, the dark waters of the Shadowed Sea churned violently, the horizon oddly shortened by the wall of towering shadows between her and everything she’d ever known.
They thought she wassafehere—locked in this room, hidden behind the Veil. But she’d never been in more danger—because by now, Jaxon had to know she was gone.
She didn’t doubt he was already leveraging every ounce of his father’s formidable power to track her down. Araya could picture him even now—his jaw clenched as he paced his office, the sharp line of it flexing with every barked command.
Jaxon didn’t lose. He didn’t let go of things that belonged to him—especially nother.
Did he know she’d crossed the Shadowed Veil? The Arcanum patrol hadn’t survived the crossing—but that didn’t mean no one had seen. All it would take was a single report, a whisper of her presence near the Veil, and he’d put the pieces together. Even if he didn’t have confirmation, he’d suspect. Jaxon was relentless, his mind a sharp, calculating force that worked as tirelessly as his ambition. He didn’t need much to go on.
She shivered despite herself, standing and taking the blanket off the back of the chair in front of the hearth to wrap around her shoulders.She stared into the flames, forcing herself to breathe and think clearly. Fear wasn’t going to help her now.
