Branrir shrugged. “We were all arrested thirty minutes ago with no explanation.”
My molars throbbed as I grit them together.That conniving bastard.They helped me to the cell’s only furnishing—a half-rotted wooden bench.
“Careful,” Branrir cautioned as they eased me down.
“Saints, you look worse than a man mauled by a wyrm.” Thistle brushed the hair from my forehead and frowned at the blood.
Vesper leaned against the cell bars, green eyes glowing. “I’ve seen better corpses.”
“How are you conscious?” Branrir asked, lowering beside me. “The tether must be…it must be killing you.”
My heart wrenched. Saying it aloud made it real.
“I can’t feel her,” I whispered, voice raw.
Branrir stilled.
Thistle blinked several times. “What do you mean?”
I looked up at the only two people in the world who would understand—who had seen the bond between Quinn and me.
“They…” My throat closed. “They cut the tether. Or…” The thought fractured me. “Or they killed her.”
The cell fell silent.
“I’ve reached for her again and again. There’s nothing there.” A sob clawed its way up my throat. “Nothing!”
Thistle’s face fell. She sat beside me, rubbing slow, firm circles into my back. “The king wouldn’t kill her,” she said, voice hoarse. “He needs her to break his own curse.”
“He also needs his pride intact,” I choked out.
Branrir sat back on his heels, shaking his head. “We don’t know anything for certain.”
“She’s alone or dead, and we’re locked up!” I spat.
Even though Quinn had only come into my life twelve days ago, there was no point existing in a world without her—in a world where I’d utterly failed her. I doubled over, burying my face in my hands. And for the first time in a long, long time, I wept.
Thistle wrapped her arms around me and pulled my head to her shoulder. Vesper curled up against my leg, in the most affectionate gesture I’d ever seen from the beast. Branrir sat on the bench to my other side.
“You’re not alone in this,” Thistle whispered.
For a moment, I remembered what it felt like to be tethered. Not to magic. But to people. The world was falling to ruin, yet gratitude swelled in my chest that a washed-up knight—who had squandered every chance, believing himself unworthy of anything good—was still capable of loving and being loved.
I wept until the grief bled out of me. “Quinn has to be alive.”
“She is.” Thistle turned to me. “You felt the tether snap, but you didn't feel her die.”
I lifted my gaze, eyes burning.
“There’s a difference,” Thistle continued, “I’ve seen death. I’ve held dying men in my arms. I know what that feels like.”
“She’s stronger than you think,” Branrir murmured.
“And way too stubborn to let Edric win,” Vesper added.
Branrir stood, walking in circles. “What the seven hells happened up there, Mav? What set this off?”
Wiping my sleeve under my nose, I tried to catch my breath. “She agreed to leave with me.”
