I will languish here forever. But my mate…she has a chance to be free. Will I know? Of course I will. If she is wed to the Prince, they will parade her in front of me, use her to amplify my pain, and use me to torment her.
The guards sit in the corner of the room, occasionally pointing and laughing at me, but the King and the Prince left some time ago. An hour. Maybe two? I can only tell by how the last few wounds have nearly stopped bleeding.
My skin burns, my shoulders ache, and a flea has more strength than I do. But I will never give these bastards the satisfaction of seeing me break. I could no longer wall off my mind when they began to flay the skin from my body, but the rest...I can endure.
I force my head up as one of the guards curses viciously, then falls to the floor with his hands around his throat, choking. A woman with hair the color of a dying fire holds out her hand and the other guard backs away. “What are you doing?” he asks.
The woman doesn’t speak, but flings something towards the second guard. A fine powder hits his face, and his skin starts to burn. As he claws at his cheeks, she shoves something into his mouth, then takes a piece of wood and swings it at his head. When it connects with a solid thunk, he crumples into a writhing, wailing ball before his voice fades away completely. Foam forms at the corners of their mouths, and the stench... If I had anything in my stomach, I would vomit.
Straightening, the woman brushes off her hands with a triumphant expression, then rushes over to me.
I don’t have the strength to speak. Hell, I can barely hold my head up. She reaches into her pocket, and when she pulls her hand out and unfurls her fingers, I blink hard to focus.
Iron shavings.
“Is...Aurelia...?”
The woman places other hand over my heart for a moment and nods, then sprinkles some of the shavings over the collar around my neck.
Pure agony sears my skin, and my vision goes white, but the next thing I know, my dragon whimpers, and I sense him deep inside me. He is weak. In pain. As close to death as he can be—while still being immortal—but present.
The woman is behind me. I can feel her dress brush my naked ass and her hands on the collar.
The charmed metal falls to the floor, and the beast inside me roars to life. My bones break, stretch, and reform, scales cover my skin, and a burst of fire leaves my lips and incinerates the bodies of the two guards.
The woman gasps from behind me as I break the shackles around my wrists and ankles, then send my dragon to rest as my human side takes control. My body is still weak, and I stumble off the bloody dais. My rescuer catches me before I hit the ground, and her cheeks flame as I am still completely naked. I have no idea what those fools did with my clothing.
“I will not harm you,” I say, my voice hoarse and broken, foreign to my own ears.
She steadies me, then backs away, glancing at the door as if she fears more guards will soon come. But then, she reaches into a small bag at her hip and pulls out a flask. Pantomiming that I am to drink, she thrusts it into my hands.
“You are not Fae.” I grasp her wrist and stare into her eyes. One of them bears a fading bruise at least week old, and her entire lower jaw is swollen. Under my fingers, her skin bears old scars—and fresh abrasions—and I shift my grip slightly so I do not hurt her. “Who are you?”
She touches her fingers to her lips, then opens her mouth, and I understand.
“The Prince?” A shake of her head. “The King, then.” A nod, and she gestures for me to drink again. “Is this charmed?” I ask, still holding on to her.
Another shake of her head and the look on her face tells me whatever this is will not harm me, so I let her go, pull the stopper, and down the entire contents in two swallows.
Almost immediately, my body feels stronger. “Thank you. I need clothing and Aurelia. Do you know where she is?”
This beaten, mute, human woman may be my only hope of finding my mate, and my dragon is still too weak to help me. Holding out her hand, she waits for me to link our fingers, and then leads me from the room.
By the top of the first set of stairs, my legs shake with each step, and the woman slips my arm over her shoulders. Faint footsteps head towards us, and I tense. “Someone comes,” I whisper. My senses are always heightened, even when my dragon is dormant, which has saved my life more than once.
She pulls me around a corner and shoves me into an alcove where I crouch behind her. She is almost skeletal, and her gown will not hide me, but if she can distract the Fae approaching for even a moment, I might be able to subdue him.
My beast resists my call. He fears the pain of being collared once more.
“If you do not lend me your strength, we will surely die.”
He whines, but pushes himself close to the surface. Five talons lengthen from my fingers, and I pray I will be able to fight.
“What are you doing here?” an angry male voice demands, and the woman makes a loud, unintelligible vocalization and points down the hall away from the stairs. “Wait!” She’s flung aside by the guard, and I spring for the bastard who sent her crashing into the opposite wall. My talons rake across his throat, tearing out his windpipe with a single swipe, and though this is not enough to kill him, it does silence him.
The woman crawls over with something clutched in her hand. Wrenching the Fae’s mouth open, she shoves the small, dark object inside, and he writhes, a terrible hissing and bubbling sound coming from his mouth.
When he breathes no more, I stare up at her, and she shows me two of the iron studs from my belt. “You found my bag.”
