Frigid air swept over me as an invisible finger swiped along my neck. I froze in place, my legs rigid and breaths shaking. Its touch trailed over my collarbone and my shoulder, then down my right arm.
Quick as lightning, another set of fingers wrapped around my throat.
“We came here, little Empress, because we’re not done with you yet,” the first voice said sweetly in my ear.
I choked against their hold and reached up to try to claw my way loose, but they released me. With a gasp, I slumped into the wall, struggling to catch my breath.
“What isthatsupposed to mean?” I rasped.
Silence.
“Hello? Are you still there?”
The doors to the dungeon slammed open, and loud footsteps drew nearer, along with the clanking of metal on metal and a cane scraping the floor. Voices filled the cell as shadows came into view.
I recognized Azura’s voice. I backed farther into the corner, butsomething on the ground at my feet caught my eye. I paused and squinted, cocking my head. It looked like a flower. A…marigold. Faded orange petals connected to a stem, their colors beginning to turn gray as if caught in the blight I’d seen so many times.
A warning buzzed in the back of my mind, and before I could think too hard about it, I knelt down and scooped up the cursed flower with the sleeves of my wedding dress.
The door to my cell banged open.
“Clarissa Aris,” the head of the King’s Guard called out. Azura stood next to him, and I held her stare.
“You have been found guilty of the murder of King Galen Grimaldi and treason against the Mysthelm crown. You are hereby sentenced to death.”
61
Thorne
Iwoke up to a throbbing heat at the back of my head. Wincing, I pushed myself off the ground and took in my surroundings.
Evidently, Mother had deemed me enough of a nuisance to have the guards knock me out, but not enough to warrant the dungeons. I recognized where I was: the guest suite in the northern tower, with its windows facing the Avonige Ocean that I could barely make out in the distance. A large bed, a bathing room, some end tables and a dresser.
I wished it were the dungeons.
I could only imagine what Clarissa was going through. Horrible visions swam across my mind—guards tying her up and beating her, throwing her around those dark cells, grabbing at her skin, her clothes, her hair.
The welt on my head pulsed as indignation shot through me. I would tear them apart if they touched her.
Sunlight beamed across the room from the windows. It had to be midday or later. How much time had passed since the wedding? How long had I been unconscious?
I strode to the door and tugged on the handle, unsurprised when it didn’t budge. I threw my weight against it with a grunt,shoving it with my shoulder, kicking it and rattling the knob until I heard a sharp thud on the other side.
“We have orders to detain you if you attempt to escape, Lord Reaux,” a muffled voice said.
“Of course you do,” I muttered. Changing tactics, I crossed to the opposite side of the room to peer out the window. It was at least a ten-story drop, with nothing to grab on to or jump from in sight.
“The hard way, then,” I said to myself. I pulled open every drawer in the dresser and flung the closet and bathing room doors wide, grabbing as many sheets, towels, and pillow cases as I could find. After stripping the bed, I quickly tied all the ends together, thankful to have something to occupy my hands before I spiraled.
I had to get to them. ClarissaandMarigold. I trusted Marigold's nanny, but I had no clue what lengths my mother would go to to get what she wanted or to keep my daughter from me. My insides were twisted with anxiety, the urgency of the situation blazing through me like a wildfire.
I gave the last piece of my rope a final tug and dragged it over to the window.
An enormous shadow passed in front of it, and before I could blink, the glass shattered around me.
Rearing back, I shielded my eyes from the blast. A heavy weight landed beside me. “Not the damsel I was trying to save, but you’ll do,” a familiar voice said.
I blinked against the sunlight and looked over to find Nox Duma standing amid the pile of broken glass.
