This was where they’d kept Mariah when she was imprisoned. When he’d been a prisoner in his own mind, forced to mark her and torment her and cursed to forget it all.
He supposed he should be thankful he couldn’t remember. Those memories would torture him far more than the simple knowledge he’d done those things ever could. Still, she had endured it. It wasn’t fair that he was somehow relieved of that burden.
As he rounded a dark corner, lifting theallumelamp, his dread was replaced by twisted justice.
Yes, they’d kept Mariah here. Something his father had helped organize. And now, Julian Laurent was in a cell of his own.
What a beautiful circle of vengeance it made.
“I was wondering when you would finally come to gloat.”
The pale gold lamplight sifted through the rusted iron bars of the cell, casting light over a haggard form seated on a threadbare cot. A scraggly gray beard had grown on his once cruelly handsome face, but his golden eyes were still just as sharp and burning with cold fire as ever.
“Who said I was here to gloat?”
Julian scoffed. “You may not be my blood, but I still raised you. Iknowyou. You’d never miss the chance.”
Ire danced beneath Andrian’s skin, but he held his tongue. He’d have his chance to ask questions, but he knew Julian wouldn’t simply tell him what he wanted to know. He first needed to play this game, this mental chess match.
If there was one thing he’d learned from this man, it was that knowledge always had to be earned.
There was a stool in the dark corridor, just out of arm's reach from the bars of Julian’s cell. Andrian pulled it forward, balancing himself atop it as he set down the lamp and folded his arms across his chest.
They stared at each other for a long moment, assessing, before Andrian broke the silence.
“Gabriel is here.”
Just like that, Andrian had the advantage. Julian went rigid, sitting up straight, hands clenching around his knees.
He’d always had a soft spot—a vulnerability—for Andrian’s little brother. And Andrian had no qualms exploiting it.
“Gabriel?Here?” Despite the hoarseness of disuse in Julian’s voice, there was a panic layered in. A desperation that gave away far more than his words ever could.
Andrian smiled darkly. “Don’t worry,” he said. “He still thinks you’re simply indisposed. He doesn’t know of your recent fall from grace.”
“And what of your own fall?” Julian snarled. “You may not live in a cell like me, but I know your life is not brimming with happiness in this castle.”
Andrian stiffened. “Kol has kept that from him, too. As far as Gabriel knows, we are all on the same side. After all, youdidtell him to listen to the god if he ever came calling.” He couldn’t keep the bitter disbelief from creeping into his voice.
Julian narrowed his eyes, the tension growing thick and viscous.
“Why are youreallyhere, Andrian? Why seek me out?”
Andrian leaned back on the stool, bracing against the cool stone behind him. He stared down his nose at the man he’d spent his life believing to be his father, wondering why he despised him so.
Not that the truth was any better.
“Why?” Andrian finally asked, voice no more than a soft murmur. “Why agree to it, all those years ago? Why bring this upon yourself—uponme—if you were just going to defy it all in the end?”
Julian’s brow furrowed. He looked away, glaring at the stone across from his cot. It was silent but for the steady drip of water down the damp stone, the only sign that the air above was no longer as cold as it remained in these decrepit dungeons.
“Kol first appeared to me when I was no older than twenty,” Julian finally said, still staring at the wall. “He would visit me in my dreams. Whisper things about my greatness, about the hidden potential of my house. My father, the previous Lord Laurent, had died suddenly only a year before, and I was given the title and castle and all the responsibilities of a Royal Lord before I felt I was ready.
“I was young and brash and arrogant. Our house had weakened since the days we’d last had a daughter Chosen to sit on the golden throne. All the distant branches had faded away, leaving only myself to carry on our name. If I didn’t make a change, and soon, the name Laurent would disappear from history, and our castle would crumble into dust.” He snorted. “At least, that’s what Kol whispered to me. That’s what I came to believe.”
Julian shifted, the metal of the cot squealing. “At that point, I would have done anything. Listened to any command I was given, if it meant keeping that worst fear from becoming a reality.” He grunted. “I suppose, on that front, all plans were a success. I got what I bargained for.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you agreed to do any of it,” Andrian growled. “You could have accomplished all of that without it.”
