She’d make them pay.
Every single one of them.
Chapter 24
“I will not,” Elara stated, lips pressed into a thin line as she fixed Reynnar with a determined stare. “Youneed to eat.”
As if on cue, their breakfast arrived with a metallic clatter, the sparse meal tossed carelessly onto the floor of the cell. And just as predictably, Reynnar nudged his portion toward her.
He hadn’t eaten the night before—not after they’d thrown him back into his cell. He’d spent the night sprawled near the bars, and she’d watched him the whole time, the steady rise and fall of his chest her only reassurance. By morning, a dark bruise bloomed across his jaw, swollen and angry.
It explained the untouched meal. But Elara wasn’t about to let him miss another. She couldn’t—when every bite might mean the difference between him surviving this or not.
“You need it to heal,” she insisted, her voice threading through the chilly cell air as she pushed his portion of what looked like pig's feet and potato stew toward him. At least this meal was hearty. It would do him some good.
Reynnar studied her beneath the dim orb-light. He seemed to weigh every shift of her expression before the corner of his mouth twitched into a tentative smile, cracking the scab on his lip and drawing a bead of fresh blood.
“Íosfaidh mé, mura mbeadh ann ach go mbíonn tú chomh gleoite sin nuair a bhíonn tú tiarnúil.9”
She watched, barely breathing, as Reynnar finally took a bite. The tension in her shoulders eased, just a little. Only then did she lift her own spoon, though the knot in her throat made each swallow feel like stone.
She tracked his movements as he ate, relief settling in when he finished the last bite. He pushed the tray aside and stretched, muscles in his chest and stomach pulling taut—catching her gaze for a heartbeat too long. She looked away. She was used to seeing him shirtless by now, but that didn’t mean she needed to ogle him. Even if sometimes it was hard not to.
When she looked back, Reynnar was smiling—that half-smile she’d come to love, the one that showed just the faintest tips of his fangs.
Elara gestured toward her teeth, curiosity getting the better of her. “Do you… what are those for?”
She had heard stories of thegwyllgi, the black hounds known to stalk travelers through the night, draining the life from both humans and beasts. She couldn’t help but wonder if there was some truth to those tales when she looked at his fangs.
Reynnar mirrored her gesture, fingers brushing over one of his fangs, his eyes gleaming with something almost playful.“Fiosrach fúthu seo?I gcomhrac, tá siad ceaptha greim a fháil san fheoil - díreach anseo.10”He tapped his neck.“An áit a tapúla a ritheann an fhuil. Gasta, éifeachtach - níos úsáidí ná lann i ndlúthchomhrac.10Ach is féidir iad a úsáid ar bhealaí eile freisin,10”he added, his grin deepening.“Ní le haghaidh troda ... nó ar a laghad, ní sa bhealach a shílfeá.10”
Elara blinked.“That was a lot of words.” She laughed, shaking her head as a small smile tugged at her lips, mirroringhis. But then, a sudden flash caught her eye—an errant ball of light drifting into her cell.
In an instant, they were on their feet.What?—
The orb hovered midair, softly glowing, one of the thousands that drifted through the Pit like aimless stars in the dark. But they never entered the cells.Never. The faint light flickered, casting strange shadows across the rough-hewn floor as it hovered just before her. A chill swept over her skin, her breath quickening.
“Gabh siar, a Eilíara.11”
She snapped out of her daze, instinctively stepping back from the orb before freezing mid-step. Her heart pounded louder in her ears as she turned back to it. Could this be the signal? After all this time? The thought sent a rush of ice through her veins. She had given up weeks ago. Had nearly crushed the pill beneath her heel more times than she could count. But something—some small, stubborn part of her—had kept her from doing it. Had kept her waiting.
The orb pulsed brighter—once, twice, three times—before darting out of her cell, vanishing as quickly as it had come.
The signal comes in threes.This was it.
Elara’s hands shook as she glanced toward the center of the Pit, where the guards had started to gather, their armor clinking as they laughed, taking bets on which prisoner would break first today.
Her eye twitched.
The note had been clear—make sure there’s an audience when it kicks in.
It was right before the shift change—her only window. She had maybe ten minutes, if that. Elara glanced at Reynnar, nerves coiling as she bit her lip. She wished she could warn him.
His gaze stayed locked on hers, steady, as if he already sensed what was coming. The familiar intensity burned there, and sheechoed the gesture he’d made that first day—pointing to her face. A signal. One he’d understand.
Reynnar stilled. Something dark flickered in his eyes. Then his lips curved into a slow, wicked smile.
A thrill shot down her spine.
