“The heir?” What heir? The king and queen of Wast had no children.
“I’ve said too much already.”
11
The cold of the cement floor had long since seeped through my clothes, numbing my legs and biting into my bones. Dampness clung to the air like a second skin, laced with the stench of rust and mildew. I sat on the unfinished floor with my wrists pinned behind my back, chained to a thick metal loop that hung from a support beam above me. The loop looked like it was bolted deep into the wood.
My wrists ached where leather-covered iron shackles bit into the skin and every breath I took tasted of mould and regret.
The silence pressed in, broken only by the slow, deliberate drip of water echoing somewhere in the darkness. Shadows pooled in the corners of the room where metal cages sat empty.
Ace sat across from me, shackled the same way. Though he had his knees drawn up and his head lowered slightly, nothing in his posture suggested surrender. His dark hair clung to his forehead in damp strands, and his jaw was clenched so tightly the muscles ticked. His dark gaze met mine through the dim light. No words passed between us, but they didn’t need to.
His fury was a living thing, coiled beneath his skin and barely leashed. The flicker in his gaze wasn’t just anger—it was the quiet, simmering promise of violence.
I swallowed hard, forcing down the twist of fear rising in my chest. Not for myself—I could endure pain, imprisonment, death if it came to that. But Ace? Nala? I didn’t know where my familiar was. I didn’t know what they’d done with her. That silence, that not knowing. It was worse than any blade.
I shifted slightly, testing the give of the shackles. They didn’t budge. My shoulders screamed in protest, and a hiss slipped through my teeth.
Ace’s head snapped up fully, and for a heartbeat, the storm in his eyes softened. “We should’ve fought.”
“And then we would be dead.” I hesitated. “Or you would be dead, and I would be injured.”
“Better a quick death than what they have planned for us,” he snapped.
“You think they plan to torture us?”
“You don’t?”
I hadn’t really thought of that possibility, though I guess I should have. Torture didn’t make sense. “I don’t have any secret information worth torturing me for.”
Ace dropped his head back to rest on the wall. “Maybe not, but you did kill a bunch of hunters, and they might make you hurt just for retribution.”
I swallowed. I hadn’t thought of that either and my naivety was showing. I’d given those hunters a quick death and assumed I’d be treated with the same sense of honour.
“Phaan,” I whispered. Maybe we should’ve made a run for it. Maybe one of us could’ve made it. Ace shook his head.
“It was still the right play,” Ace said. “We now know where their base camp is, and we still have an opportunity to escape.”
“How?” I shook my arms to rattle the chains for emphasis.
Ace perked up and scooted closer to me. “They searched me for weapons, but they didn't find my lock picks.”
If my death stare had the ability to inflict harm, Ace would’ve keeled over where he sat. “And you’re just telling me this now?” If my hand had been free, I would’ve whacked him.
Ace shrugged. “You were too busy flirting. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“Again, with the flirting.” I said. “If you actually think that was flirting, I'm a little sad for you. A woman can be cordial and nice to a man without it being an attempt to get him in bed.”
“Sad for me?”
I nodded. “Just proves you have no skills with the ladies. But I guess I already knew that.”
Instead of glowering at me, he smiled slowly and leaned forward. “Why don’t you reach into my pants, and I’ll show you just how many skills I have.”
I jerked back, but dammit if my heart rate didn’t pick up at the suggestion.
“Chicken?” He raised his eyebrows.
