Everyone sucks in a breath. The plan is forming, but it’s precarious, held together by thinly veiled truths.
They don’t like it, but I don’t care.
“So, we need to talk to Nalya, then?” Therion asks. “To understand the run of Kryntar Castle. Get any intel we can from her.” Ever the General of War.
“Exactly.Now.”
“You know she’s not herself, right? You know Maldrak planted her here just to fuck with us and send us on a wild hunt for answers she’ll never give us?” Therion calls from behind, jogging to catch up to me through the twisting boughs that line the paths of Thornewood.
“Yes, I fucking know,” I grunt. “I still need to try.”
“I know, brother,” he sighs, resigned to the fate that lies ahead.
We walk in silence towards the town square—the slow trickle of rain creating a beautiful echo of water dripping from leaves, vines and branches, but the beauty is undermined by what I must do: interrogate my baby sister.
Ask her to remember—relive—moments I’d sell my soul to burn from her memory. But I’ll do it. I’ll be a bastard forher.Elyssara.
Before we arrive at the town square, I take a sharp right down an overgrown path, covered in undergrowth, dead branches and overhanging foliage. The Zerynthians are tooscared to walk here—it’s cursed, they say. A path to Morrathys himself. The canopy thickens, blotting out all sunlight and shrouding us in darkness. Lucky for me, darkness is my kin.
We approach the jagged rock face that Thornewood presses up against, when one of Daelen’s trusted men stands to attention, sword drawn, at the narrow mouth of the cave.
“Rubi’s with her, sir,” he announces. “It’s a bad day,” he adds quickly, trying to prepare me.
“Every fucking day is a bad day at the moment, Rufus,” I breathe, exasperated.
“I suppose so, sir,” he agrees hesitantly.
“So, no improvement?” I prompt, though I don’t think I’ll like the answer.
“Perhaps slightly less… episodes. The crying has been quite persistent, though,” Rufus winces.
Fuck.
I nod in acknowledgment, and Therion brushes past me, leading the way into the cave that serves as our dungeon. The walls are slick with moisture—the stench of mildew and rot assaults my senses on entry, and my eyes adjust to the pitch-black cave.
Therion charges ahead toward Rubi, her shoulders hunched over an elixir steeping in Nalya’s cell. She looks up from the concoction, wiping sweat from her brow, a pained expression on her face. Nalya lies motionless on the floor, arms and legs chained, anchored into the ground, though I can see the subtle rise and fall of her chest. “I fear she’s lost to us, Kael,” Rubi admits. “The Nalya I knew… she’s not in there.”
My breath stutters at her words—so resigned, defeated,heartbroken.
Nalya and Rubi were inseparable before Maldrak took the throne—they had every maid, cook, and servant in Kryntar Castle wrapped around their fingers when they were little.Our fathers, too. And if I’m honest, Therion and me, as well. Giggling, playing, teasing, tricking, dressing up, hiding—whatever they were doing, it was always together. I knew this would hurt Rubi, but she insisted.
“She has to be, Rubes. We have no other choice,” I say. It’s all I can think to say.
“Is the tonic not working?” Therion enquires.
Rubi pushes her hair out of her face, but it tumbles straight back down into her eyes. She swipes her hand against the dirt floor and slicks her hair back with grime, uncaring for hygiene or propriety, but that’s our Rubi.
“Obviously fucking not, Teddy,” she snaps through misty eyes and a dirt-streaked face, and I can hear the tears forming in her throat. “She’s lucid for all of thirty heartbeats before that cursed Mark flares to life again.”
“Well, maybe thirty seconds is all we need to get answers,” Therion strategizes, while placing a comforting hand on Rubi’s shoulder.
“I’ll take whatever we can get, Rubes. I need to know how to get into that castle, and how to break the connection to Maldrak and Morrathys,” I plead desperately.
She nods silently, wiping her sleeve under her nose, and quelling the emotions that threaten to spill out. “The tonic is almost ready. You’ll need to hold her down while I administer it, and then… move like a fucking duskprowler towards the gate.”
I risk a quick glance at Therion—but I wish I hadn’t. His lips are pressed into a thin line and convey everything I’m feeling. This is my fucking sister. The sister I protected at all costs. Shielded from violence. Braided her hair. Sang to sleep. Holding her down goes against everything I’ve ever known.
“Let’s do it,” I say, steeling my nerves.
