Doryan stepped forward, muscles taut, his earlier brotherly pestering replaced with a tense silence. His presence alone wasenough to intimidate most people, but with me, he always dropped the act. Outside the training ring, of course.
I held up my hands in mock questioning. “She entered the ring. I was sparring with your brother, but I think she got jealous. So, she took his place.”
Shayde lunged at the bars, his voice low and dangerous. “I swear to the elements if you hurt her—”
“You’ll what? Finally give us the answers we need?” I cut him off, a smirk tugging at my lips as I slowly stepped closer, bringing us face-to-face.
His brown eyes burned many shades darker than I remembered from our altercation last year. That night, I had slipped into Mageia on a mission, spending hours in the library sifting through their archives. I was careful, unnoticed, cloaked in the shadows and my balaclava—my identity hidden at all times, a nonnegotiable rule from my father for outside missions.
The fear of returning to the Hollow empty-handed fueled my determination to venture further into the castle. So, I shifted my focus to the professors’ offices, slipping through the halls like a shadow. Channeling my earth element, I sketched runes with dirt on their doors to unlock and relock the knobs so that my presence would be undetectable.
After finding absolutely nothing in the offices, I crept through the dim halls. I wasn’t bothering anyone, just minding my business—until I saw him. A six-foot-two Wylder with brown hair and intense brown eyes, scrutinizing a random bookshelf like his life depended on it. His focus was so intense it was almost laughable.
I prided myself on being an expert at stealth, a shadow moving unseen. But even my careful, silent footsteps weren’t quiet enoughfor him that night. He spotted me lurking around the corner and ran the opposite way.
Mean Fallon saw it as a cat-and-mouse game. I chased after him, which wasn’t an easy task—this Wylder was fast. Once I caught up, I slammed him against the wall, pressing my forearm to his neck. I had just one moment to look into his warm brown eyes before Nice Fallon remembered I was supposed to keep a low profile. But before I could remove myself from the situation and disappear into the night, the handsome Wylder boy fought back.
We became a chaotic blur of elbows, grips, and quick movements, each of us fighting for the upper hand. Despite his strength and speed, I could tell he was holding back, like he didn’t want to cause any real harm. He almost had me pinned when my right hook connected with his nose.
I ran as fast as I could. The sound of my footsteps echoed in the hall, and I didn’t dare look back—until I reached the end. I stopped, catching my breath, and glanced over my shoulder.
Shayde was standing there, his hand pressed to his nose, blood dripping between his fingers. His brown eyes locked onto mine, a storm of emotions flashing across his face. He didn’t chase me. He just watched me—he let me go.
And now he was looking at me like he wanted to strangle me.
There was no way he knew it was me that night who slipped through his defenses. Part of me saved that piece of information for a very, very special moment.
“If you hurt Scarlet, I will fucking kill you,” Shayde snarled.
Hm. That special moment might be today.
“Like you tried to kill her?” I countered.
“I didn’t—” Shayde slammed his palms against the cell bars, the metallic clang echoing through the dungeon. “I did not try tohurt her. I didn’t have a choice. I reached out to Rhodes for backup.”
I scoffed, crossing my arms. “Yeah, a little too late though, right? You are the reason she was up on that peak. You were working with that witch. You were an accessory to those murders—”
“I didn’t have a choice.” His voice broke mid-sentence, raw emotion bleeding into the air. It caught me off guard—an emotion I hadn’t seen from him before, something deep and guttural flashing in his eyes.
I shook my head slowly, lowering my voice. “You always have a choice. You chose wrong.”
Shayde’s face was a mix of pain, despair, guilt—every emotion of someone who knew they’d fucked up. Normally, I’d revel in the sight of a broken enemy, twisting the knife deeper with every word. But today, as I stared at him through the bars, the hollow ache in his eyes made my stomach churn instead of settle.
I turned on my heel, storming toward the exit. Doryan followed close behind.
“If you can get her to talk to me, I will tell you anything you want to know. Please,” Shayde called out, his voice raw, desperate. “Or at least give her a message from me.”
My chest constricted at his words. He was the reason she was unconscious on that mountain.Hewas the snake slithering through Mageia’s halls, obeying an evil commander’s orders.Hehad betrayed us all.
Shayde Wylder was the reason Tyria had almost decimated our side of the continent—burning villages, destroying families, leaving nothing but ash and ruin.
And now, here he was—not begging for mercy for his crimes, but asking only to speak withher.
The rustle of parchment yanked me from my boiling anger. I watched as Doryan slid a sheet through the bars, along with an inked quill. Shayde dropped to his knees and began scribbling furiously.
I narrowed my eyes at Doryan. He shrugged.
With a growl of frustration, I clenched my fists and stormed out.
