She tried once more to speak of it, to say anything about the dungeons or Thomas or Malus.
Silence.
The warmth in her chest pulsed in warning, but what could she do? She couldn't speak the truth. Couldn't warn Eliam. Could only wait for the axe to fall and pray that somehow, somehow, she survived the aftermath.
But looking at the bent bars, feeling the ghost of Malus's magic still coating her throat, she knew with sinking certainty:
She wouldn't.
The journey back from the dungeons felt endless without the leaf's protection. Every shadow could hide watching eyes, every footstep echoed too loud in the empty corridors. Briar forced herself to walk at a normal pace—not the guilty scramble her body demanded, but the measured steps of someone who'd simply been exploring the castle.
Her pockets felt conspicuously empty. No food to explain away, at least, but also no magical protection. Just her, alone in the dark passages, with Malus's compulsion sitting like lead on her tongue.
She tested it again as she climbed the stairs, tried to think of the word "dungeons" with intent to speak it. Her throat closed immediately, a sensation like invisible hands squeezing. The binding was thorough. Absolute.
The upper halls were blessedly empty. Most of the castle slept at this hour, leaving her to navigate by memory and the faint glow of banked sconces. Her rooms were close now, just a few more—
A sound. Soft, like fabric against stone.
She froze, heart slamming against her ribs. The warmth in her chest contracted sharply, sending tendrils of heat racing along her bones like a warning. It pressed against her sternum from the inside, like a frantic bird trying to escape its cage.
Briar waited, barely breathing, but nothing emerged from the shadows. Just her imagination. Just Malus's presence haunting her even in his absence. She forced herself to continue, but her skin prickled with the certainty of being watched.
Three more turns. Two more corridors. Each step felt heavy and deliberate, fighting the urge to run. She could collapse into bed soon, pull the covers over her head, and pretend this nightmare hadn't—
"Little rabbit."
She nearly jumped out of her skin. Thaine materialized from the shadows like smoke given form, all lazy grace and sharp attention. His hunting leathers made no sound as he pushed off from the wall he'd been leaning against.
"Thaine." Her voice came out steadier than she felt. "You startled me."
"Did I?" His smile was all predator amusement. "How careless of me. Though one wonders what has you wandering the halls at such an hour."
"I couldn't sleep." Truth, as far as it went. "Thought a walk might help."
"Mmm." He circled her slowly, and she fought not to turn with him. Prey behavior. "Funny thing. I had the same thought. Decided to check on our lord's precious pet, make sure you weren't getting into... mischief."
"I don't need checking on."
"No? Because when I knocked on your door, quite persistently, I might add, you didn't answer." He stopped directly in front of her, too close for comfort. "Your rooms were remarkably empty for someone who was supposed to be resting."
"I was walking. In the gardens." The lie came out smooth, automatic. "The night air helps clear my head."
His eyes narrowed slightly. "The gardens. How lovely. Which section? The rose labyrinth? The moon flowers? The reflecting pools his lordship specifically forbade you from approaching?"
"The... the herb gardens." She grasped for details, any details. "Near the kitchen plots."
"Interesting choice." He tilted his head, studying her like a particularly fascinating specimen. "Though one wonders how you ended up here. The kitchen gardens are in the entirely opposite direction."
Heat flooded her face. "I got turned around."
"Turned around."
"The castle is confusing at night. All the corridors look the same."
"After all this time?" His smile sharpened. "How unfortunate. Perhaps you need a guide. Someone to ensure you don't get... lost again."
"That's not necessary."
