It forced me to look down, toward myself. I closed my eyes. Refused.
I dared myself to look up at them instead, to really see.
Nezra stood in front of me, rows of braids tumbling down her back, each one strung with small hoops that sparked like tiny suns and moons. Her fingers cradled the light, its glare ghosting over her mist-veiled eyes as she studied me.
Killian knelt still, his own braids knotted at the back of his head, battle-worn leathers streaked in soot and oil. His hands stayed on his knees, as if afraid to reach for me, as if touching would break what was left.
The flame grew, and in that moment, I knew there was no avoiding it any longer. I let my eyes roam over whatever parts of me were visible.
I was down to a rag so shredded it barely clung to my chest, the fabric hanging off my hips in strips. Bruises marbled my thighs, along with blood dried in finger sized streaks. My hair, once chestnut silk, was now a snarl of knots.
Nezra’s face crumbled, lips parting.
Killian’s stare finally lifted, his eyes finding and landing on the sorrel hue in mine. “We need to know what state you’re in to move you,” he spoke softly, rising, inching closer to my curled form. “Is anything broken?”
Oh, you mean besides my fucking spirit?
The bitter laugh was choked back as I forced myself deeper into the wall, a hiss curling up from my throat as Killian reached out with one hand.
The arrogance he’d worn in the throne room was gone. His mouth was a hard line now, his brows pinched with something dangerously close to guilt.
It made me almost afraid to ask, “Move me?”
You mean from this vile-soaked mattress barely big enough for Elva’s cat? Not a chance.
His stare shifted to Nezra. She nodded once, passing him the candle before turning back to me with both palms lifted, slow, like I was some wild, corneredthing.
“You’re safe now,” she murmured. “We have Callum. He’s safe too. But we need to leave.” The way her voice hardened on the last word let me know the wordsafewas only temporary. “Right now.”
None of it sounded real. Not here. Not in this pit.
Even when she lowered herself to the floor, face level with mine, and repeated it softly. “You’re safe, Verena.”
Safe. The word didn’t live down here.
The chain swung between us as she reached for my hand, catching her wrist when she got too close. She yelped, snatching it back as the burn sizzled across her skin.
Her eyes darted from the wound to the iron links, then finally up to me. “Let me see your wrists.”
I let her take my arm, let her feel the crusted blood, the dirt, the wreckage. Without the sliver of Fae healing the manacles let stick around, infection alone would have finished me quickly.
She blinked, then set my arm back on my thigh, noting how the chain didn’t burn me. Her stare cut to Killian, where he stood, arms folded, a musing look behind his eyes.
They didn’t have a plan. They had no idea how to get these chains off me.
“What do you think?” she asked him.
His focus stayed fixed just above my collarbone as he chewed the inside of his lip, as if looking lower might undo him.
“I think,” he cleared his throat, “you go help Duke with Callum. I’ll handle the shackles.”
Her head shook once. “But—”
“She will be safe. She will be free.” Eyes locked with hers, he promised, “You have my word, Nez.”
Unspoken words passed between them. Then Nezra’s voice dipped, the runes on her palms lighting like a violet fire. “Lay a finger on her, send one unwanted knock through her mind—” She closed in on him. “And I will know. And it won’t just be someone else’s memories you search for in the murk.”
With his mouth tipping in a crooked salute, he turned back, full attention on the chains at my wrists. Nezra moved toward the door, pausing at the threshold, glancing back with a small smile as she nodded once.
