“Blind?” He looked up sharply. “I gave you everything. This entire fortress has been yours, every comfort, every desire, every book you’ve ever lost yourself in—all of it came from my efforts, my risks, my vision. And this is the gratitude I receive?”
“I trusted you.” Tears burned behind her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “I believed everything you told me. I defended you to Noah when he questioned your lies. I chose you over—” She stopped, unable to finish the thought.
“Over the boy?” Her father’s voice turned cold. “How touching. Tell me, daughter, what do you truly know about him?About any of them? They come here seeking to use my resources, to exploit what I’ve built, and you’re ready to throw away your entire future for a stranger’s desperate cause?”
“He’s a man, not a boy. And at least Noah respected me enough to tell me the truth.” The words came out before she could stop them. “And he’s never pretended to be something he’s not.”
The Keeper’s face went still and expressionless in a way that frightened her more than his anger. “I see you need time to think clearly. Away from his influence.”
Alarm spiked through Skye’s chest. “What do you mean?”
He moved to the door and pulled it open. Austin stood in the corridor beyond, as if he’d been waiting for the summons. Two guards flanked him.
Where had he come from? Why was he here now? Had he followed her? Had her father somehow silently summoned him? Nausea rose in her throat.
“She will need confinement,” her father said calmly. “For her own protection until she can see the error of her ways.”
“No!” Skye backed away from the door, but Austin was already moving into the room, his expression a mixture of satisfaction and false sympathy.
“Come now, Skye. This doesn’t have to be difficult.” His hand closed around her upper arm with deceptive gentleness. “Your father only wants what’s best for you.”
She tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. “Let go of me!”
“Father—” She turned toward the Keeper, searching his face for any sign of the man she thought she knew. “Please. Don’t do this.”
His expression remained impassive. “Your friends will be sent on their way. They have no usefulness here beyond depleting our resources and have only served to twist your mindand alienate you from your true purpose. Perhaps their absence will help you remember where your loyalty belongs.”
“No! Please! You can’t—what about Emily?! She needs help! If we abandon her, she’ll die.”
“That,” her father stated, “is not my concern.”
The finality in his voice shattered something inside her. This man, this stranger wearing her father’s face, truly didn’t care. Not about Emily. Or Noah’s desperation. Or the family fighting so hard to save a child’s life.
Perhaps not even about her, other than her ability to serve as a means to an end.
Maybe he’d never cared about anything but his empire. His legacy.
His power.
Austin pulled her toward the door, and she stumbled, her legs unsteady beneath her. “Where are you taking me?”
“Somewhere quiet,” Austin said, his voice almost gentle. “Where you can think things through without outside influence.”
“Please.” She looked back at her father one last time, hating the desperation in her own voice. “Please don’t do this. We can talk, discuss?—”
“There’s nothing to discuss until you’re ready to be reasonable.” He’d already turned back to his desk, dismissing her as if she were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. “Perhaps a few days alone will help you come to your senses.”
Days?Days would be too late for Emily.
The guards fell into step behind them as Austin led her from the study. Skye’s mind raced, searching for options, for any way to escape or fight back. But Austin’s grip was unrelenting, and the guards’ presence eliminated any hope of breaking free.
Where was Keir? It was unlike him not to be near. Had they done something to him?Please God, keep him from harm.
They descended deeper into the fortress than she’d ever been, even when exploring as a child. Austin led her down narrow stairs that twisted endlessly downward. The air grew colder, damper, carrying the musty scent of stone and age. Torchlight flickered against walls that wept with moisture, and Skye realized with growing horror just how isolated this place was.
“Here.” Austin stopped before a heavy wooden door reinforced with iron bands. One of the guards produced a key, the lock grinding as it turned.
The chamber beyond was small, barely larger than her wardrobe-press. A narrow cot sat against one wall, a chamber pot in the corner. A single torch bracket near the door provided the only light.
