“The Ruler General. Are you sure? That can’t be right.”
“Quite sure, sir.”
Corvius stares at the guard for several seconds with a look of disbelief. “That’s strange, to say the least.” He sighs. “I almost had a confession out of her, too.”
The young guard shrugs. “I’m sorry, sir.” He looks petrified, taking a shuffling step or two back.
Corvius’s gaze shifts to me.
I’m still trying to catch my breath, my body shaking from the aftereffects of his torture.
“Most would have broken,” he says. There’s something almost like respect in his voice.
“Perhaps you are telling the truth, after all.”
I hold my tongue.
He steps closer, leaning down so his face is level with mine. “But let me be clear, girl. If I find out you’ve been lying to me – if I discover even a whisper of magic from you – I will come for you. And next time, there will be no interruption…no one to save you.” His eyes bore into mine. “I’ll have you jailed, or taken to one of the mines, or worse… So much worse. Do you understand?”
I swallow hard. “I am who I say I am.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about.” He straightens, waving a hand. “Go.”
The young guard moves to my side, offering me his arm. I take it gratefully. My legs are still weak.
As we step into the corridor, I heave a sigh.
It’s over.
I’m free.
We walk in silence. The guard leads me back down through the dungeons, retracing the path from earlier.
“You are lucky, Lord Corvius can be…cruel,” the guard tells me.
“I’ve never felt anything like it.” I shiver just thinking about those shadows all over me…squeezing me until I couldn’t breathe.
We pass through the narrow corridors. I can’t wait to be free of this place, but if I know Master Roland, he will want the show to go on. He even tried to get me to perform with an injured arm.
Surely not. Not after all this.
A moan echoes through the darkness, bringing me from my thoughts.
I freeze and turn toward the sound, to where a figure lies crumpled on the floor in one of the cells.
I peer into the darkness and realize that it’s the Shadowfae King. I gasp because he’s covered in blood and bruises. His torn tunic reveals the mark on his chest. His dark hair falls across his face.
As I watch, he stirs. His head lifts just a little, and the hair falls away from his face. His eyes open and lock onto mine.
In that moment, I feel something pass between us. My magic pulses, recognizing something in him.
“He needs help,” I tell the guard.
“Come on,” the guard urges. “We need to go.”
He pulls me down the corridor.
Was it him who got me out? Did he advocate for me? Is that why I’m being released?
