“Val and I have been working on a plan,” Rangar said in a low rush. The lantern light reflected off his face, highlighting the scars, reminding her of just how many times he’d risked himself for her. “The Hytooth royal family in the Wollin is sympathetic to us. We’ve been in communication with them eversince the siege on Castle Mir. They refused to swear loyalty to your brother before his death, and they refuse to negotiate with Captain Carr now. Val will sneak you out of Barendur Hold and get you to the Wollin. Eventually, when I can, I’ll meet you there.”
“How?” she marveled, clutching the iron bars.
He reached through to stroke her cheek. “I’ll always find a way back to you, Bryn.”
She leaned into his hand, closing her eyes. Trying to put the terrible conditions of the dungeon out of mind and focus on the two of them. In a terrible twist of fate, they were free to be together again. She never would have wished for Trei’s death, and yet, the truth was she was a widow now. Bound by no marriage vows. It wasn’t being wed to another man that separated them now—it was iron bars.
“I’m supposed to look out foryounow, remember?” she whispered. “I saved your life from that poison, so your soul is mine to protect. And yet you’re the one always helping me even while you’re behind bars.”
He pressed his forehead against hers, stroking her cheek. “You don’t even believe in thefralenbond.”
“I believe in owing something to one another. I believe that our pasts do bind us.”
He smirked softly. “You don’t owe me anything, but I’ll take a kiss if you’ll give it freely.”
All she had to do was tip up her chin to touch her lips to his. Her hands coiled around the bars as he wrapped a hand around her waist, pulling her as close as they could manage. The kiss was softer than that turbulent tussle in the closet but no less affectionate. Bryn suddenly felt starved for Rangar. This boy whose heart she’d stomped all over, who was saving her life in return. She pressed herself closer, frustrated by the stiff bars.
“Promise me you won’t marry again,” he said gruffly before tipping up her chin up for another kiss.
“I promise,” she whispered, coiling her fingers around the bars. “No one. Never anyone else but you.”
She rested a hand on his chest and could feel his heart pounding. She bunched his dirty shirt, filled with an urge to hold on, to never let him go.
A low whistle sounded from the far side of the dungeon, and Rangar broke the kiss. “That’s Val. You should go before the guards switch shifts.”
Her eyes widened. “I can’t just leave you here!” She grabbed his collar with both hands, clutching tightly.
He placed his hands over hers and eased them off his body, shaking his head. “You can’t be found here. You must go. Now.”
A war was waging in her mind. How could she possibly leave him in adungeon? Rangar had never done anything wrong. She’d been the one to betray him by marrying his brother. He was certainly no murderer, no criminal . . .
She felt tears in her eyes. “I’m afraid I’ll never see you again.”
He stroked her hair softly through the bars. “Princess, you’ll see me again. We’re soulbound. We have something almost no one is lucky enough to have. There is magic in the world, so you need to believe. We’ll be together again.”
Their lips met again for a kiss. Bryn poured everything she had into it, wanting Rangar to feel every ounce of her love, her concern, her protectiveness over him.
Footsteps sounded, and she felt Valenden’s hand on her shoulder. “Bryn.Now. The soldiers are returning.”
She didn’t want to let go of the bars. She stared at Rangar one final time, memorizing everything about him, promising herself she would believe as he urged.
“Take her, Val,” Rangar said sharply.
And she had no choice but to flee down the dungeon hall with Valenden, hiding in a shadowy alcove as the new soldiers arrived for their shift, and then dash up the stairs, through an exit out of the courtyard to which Valenden had the key, and race out into the dark forest.
Chapter
Fifteen
AWAY TO THE WOODS . . . a third ring . . . a short rest . . . dreams and revelations . . . the lemon
It was a damp night with a nasty chill in the air. Clouds had rolled in over the moon, casting the night world in deep shadows. Valenden seemed to know the path through the forest by heart, which gave Bryn a small measure of confidence.
She followed him blindly, trying not to think about everything she was leaving behind. Every belonging she had to her name, her prospects as a mage apprentice, the promise of being queen to both the Mirien and the Baersladen. And of course, the greatest loss of all—leaving Rangar behind.
“Stop,” Valenden said, motioning for her to sit on a fallen log. “We need to take a break. Catch our breaths.”
Bryn sank onto the log, hugging her arms tightly to keep from shivering.
