“I believe you.”
Everything inside Ashterion froze. The shadows stilled. The magic halted. His thoughts, every ancient, blood-slicked one—ceased.
She believed him.
He stared at her like she’d spoken in a language no one had dared use on him in centuries.
Three words.
And his entire world tilted.
63
The cell door slammed shut behind me, the iron lock clicking into place with a finality that settled deep in my bones.
The guards didn’t say anything. Just shoved me forward with the same practiced disinterest they used for all of us.
Good.
It made it easier to lie.
I staggered into the cell, every muscle already bracing for what came next. Darian shot to his feet first, his expression contorting—relief, then fury, then something tight and horrified.
“Gods, Isara?—”
“I’m fine,” I said too fast, too sharp.
I wasn’t fine. But that’s what I had to be. Because if I faltered, if I showedeven a fractionof what had actually passed between me and Ashterion, they’d see it. They’d ask. And I wouldn’t know how to answer.
Brynelle stood next, pale beneath bruised skin. Varyth hadn’t moved from where he lay, but his eyes were open, watching. Always watching.
I dropped to my knees near the corner, the cold stone bit against my legs.
“Did he do—” Brynelle didn’t finish the question. Didn’t have to.
I nodded once. “Yes.”
The word was acid on my tongue.
Darian’s hands curled into fists. “He’ll pay for this.”
“No,” I said quietly, head bowed, hair falling forward to hide my face. “Don’t.”
“Isara—”
“He didn’t get what he wanted,” I lied. “I didn’t give him that.”
Varyth stood. “What did he ask you?”
My throat tightened. I forced myself to meet his eyes.
“He wanted me to break.” I held his gaze, let him see the defiance I knew he expected. “I didn’t.”
Another lie. A prettier one.
Because part of me had broken. The moment I’d agreed to lie to Varyth, something had cracked that I wasn’t sure I could fix.
Varyth’s hands braced against the wall, muscles trembling with effort. His breath came shallow but the look in his eyes had turned to frozen starlight. That terrifying, breathless calm that meant the storm had already arrived.
