“Don’t let him frighten you, Starling,” Jaxon murmured, his hand stroking long lines down her back. “Hale is just bitter because he got outvoted. I’m sorry he surprised you here—he still has clearance, but I’ll talk to my father. Hale won’t get this close to you again.”
Araya clung to him, letting his steady presence ease the tension knotted in her chest. She closed her eyes, breathing in the comforting vanilla scent of his soap. But beneath that comforting scent there was something else—something metallic and acrid. Her nostrils flared as she pulled back, staring at the dried crimson streaking his hands and forearms.
“Jaxon,” she breathed, her voice catching. “What happened?”
“I was doing my part, Starling.” Jaxon smiled at her, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Getting the prince ready for you.”
Araya caught her breath, her eyes darting from his hands to his face, searching for answers she wasn’t sure she wanted to find. “Ready for me?”
“It’syour turn now.” Jaxon plucked a worn leather first-aid kit off one of the cluttered workbenches, presenting it to her with a flourish. “Let’s see if you can coax a few secrets out of him while you’re patching him up.”
Araya barely caught the kit, scrambling to follow as he turned, striding into the hall with long steps. “All you need to do tonight is tend to his injuries,” he called back, not bothering to look back to see if she followed. “I doubt he’ll say much—it will take time before he trusts you enough to reveal anything useful.”
“Jaxon—” Araya hurried to keep up, her heart in her throat. She couldn’t do this. “I’m not an inquisitor. I can’t?—”
“You can.” Jaxon waved off her protest. “You don’t need training, Starling.Youwere what broke him last time.”
Araya flushed hot, the pull in her chest sharpening to a burning pain. “But what if?—”
“What if what?” Jaxon turned back to her, his dark eyes gleaming in the faint light. “What if he tries to kill you? Trust me, Starling. He’s not in any condition to hurt anyone right now.”
Araya’s stomach turned as Jaxon cupped her face, stroking his thumb along her cheekbone and brushing a kiss over her lips. “And if he does, Aeron is right outside the door. He would never let anything happen to you—right, Aeron?”
“Of course not, sir,” the guard said, his focus locked firmly on the opposite wall.
Jaxon’s thumb continued its slow, deliberate sweep, his breath warm against her ear. “See? You’re perfectly safe,” he murmured. “Nothing bad will happen to you as long as you keep being good for me, Starling.”
Araya forced herself to nod. His touch, his words, even the tone of his voice—each one was another link in the chain tightening around her.
“That’s my Starling,” Jaxon said, his grin widening at her obedience. He pressed a fleeting kiss to her temple before releasing her, theabsence of his touch more jarring than its presence. “Find me when you’re done. I want to hear all about it.”
“I’m sorry—about last time, Miss,” Aeron said, his voice strained and his eyes locked firmly on the ground. “I didn’t know who you were before. It’s no excuse—but I…I made a mistake. Master Shaw made that very clear, Miss. I understand now.”
Clear. Araya blanched, the word settling uneasily in her chest, dragging her thoughts into darker places. What had Jaxon done to terrify this man? Or had it been Garrick? What would he do toherif she failed him?
Araya’s fingers tightened around the strap of the first aid kit, the leather biting into her palm. Jaxon was already long gone, his footsteps long since vanished down the hall. There was no way out of this. No excuse clever enough, no soft-spoken evasion that would free her. Jaxon wouldn’t accept anything less than total obedience here—even from her. He might care for her, but his true devotion would always be to the Arcanum and the future he was building here.
“Thank you, Aeron,” she said, dredging up all the kindness she could muster. “I’m not upset, I never was. You were only doing your job.”
Aeron shifted, glancing up at her briefly before his gaze darted back away, landing somewhere over her shoulder. “Just knock twice when you’re done,” he muttered. “His chains don’t let him reach the door.”
Araya nodded, the lump in her throat too thick for words as Aeron turned the keys. They grated in the locks, tumblers clicking as they dropped into place, magic illuminating everything in a strange, blue glow for half a heartbeat before it faded away.
The heavy door groaned, creaking open on ancient hinges to yawn open like some ancient maw—wide and waiting to swallow her whole.
Araya stepped forward before she could think better of it, the pull behind her ribs dragging her across the threshold. A heartbeat later,the heavy door slammed shut behind her with a thunderous clang. Araya flinched, barely choking back a scream as she was plunged into instant, absolute darkness.
She stood frozen, breath shallow, listening to the echoing silence that followed. The cell felt alive around her—too still, too quiet, like it was holding its breath. Her heart pounded, each beat a thunderclap in the suffocating black as even her fae sight struggled to adjust.
“Loren?” she called out, her voice shaking.
There was no response, her soft call swallowed almost immediately by the thick air, heavy with the metallic tang of blood, the acrid stench of waste, and the damp rot of moldy straw. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, trying not to breathe too deeply as she took another hesitant step toward where she could just barely make out the outline of his body crumpled on the floor.
“Loren,” she called again, a little louder. He didn’t stir.
She needed light. Turning back to the door, Araya felt her way along the wall, her fingers brushing over the rough, damp stone until they met the cold metal of the sconce. She reached for her aether, sketching the rune for light in the air. For a moment, nothing happened, but then the lamp flared to life with a soft hiss, bathing the cell in its flickering, uneven light.
Araya exhaled shakily, relieved. Now that she had light, she could deal with anything.
