The owner of the voice steps forward, his face only partly illuminated by the singular sconce on the wall across from my cell.
Graylen tilts his head—his lips slopped into a lazy grin.
The majority of his face is still blocked by the light, his mouth and strong jawline the only things visible.
I ball my hands into fists, having no qualms about punching the smirk off his annoyingly handsome face. Only my handsdon’tball into fists. They stay perfectly still at my sides.
Panic claws at my chest, and I yank myself back a step, needing distance from Graylen. Only my body doesn’t do that, either.
“Problem?” He reaches forward—hand slipping through thebars—wrapping a lock of my hair around his finger and spinning it.
My muscles seize, Graylen’s magic holding me in place like I saw him do in Crea with the guards when we were escaping. I’ve felt his magic before, more than once. But this?
There’s something within the strands of his Essence that I don’t recognize. Something darker and foreign.
“Let me go, Graylen,” I demand, snapping the words at him as hard as I can.
He chuckles, shaking his head. “I don’t think I will, my darling weapon,” he murmurs, releasing my hair but still using his magic to hold me in place.
My nostrils flare at the name—one he’s never used on me before. One that sounds like something that would come fromVidaris, not him. He always seemed to be concocting new nicknames for me—right from the moment he met me in Crea—but this one feels wrong, making his teasing feel like a slap across my face.
He steps closer to me, his hand rising in front of his face. A ball of fire forms in his palm, illuminating his entire face.
I suck in a sharp breath, taking in the man in front of me—one I hardly recognize.
He blinks—gaze empty.
It was Graylen and it wasn’t. His eyes are solid black, his glorious green irises gone. Tainted. Covered in a darkness so deep that I can see my reflection in them.
Rage fills me, my heart hammering in my chest at what’s been done to him.
“You can fight this—fighther, Graylen.” I change the subject, trying to get through to him. “I know you can.”
Graylen stares at me, his blank expression morphing into a teasing smirk. “Awh, don’t want to play with me anymore?” He juts out his bottom lip, pouting. “I can think of a thousand ways I’d like to play with you.”
It’s wrong, so very wrong, the way heat pools in my core athis words. The moment they do, I pull my eyes away from his beautifully harsh features, unable to stand looking at him any longer.
He isn’t my Graylen, but he’s stillGraylen. It’s still his devastatingly gorgeous face—still his smirk that’s always driven me wild. But it isn’t his eyes—those depthless emerald greens hidden by darkness.
“You’re not you right now,” I hiss, eyes set on the stone floor. “You’re something else entirely.”
Graylen laughs, and I turn back to him, careful to keep my expression guarded.
“You’re right. You never truly got to see me as the Prince’s Snake.” He grins and leans in closer, his breath tickling my face through the bars separating us. “But I think it’s time you learned.”
He twists his head to the side, moving the flame to show me his neck. The neck now bare of ink.
My breath catches, confusion causing me to pause. “Where?—”
“You thought it was just a tattoo?” Graylen huffs a laugh, letting the fire die out in his hand and pitching us back into mostly darkness. “It was a gift from Vidaris. You’ll see in time how giving she can be.”
A soft hissing fills the dungeon, impossible to place.
But then I feel it.
Smooth scales brush against my ankle, my tattered pants doing little to protect me from its warm skin.
I try to look down, but Graylen still has my body locked into place, which leaves me unable to see what’s happening on the ground. I don’t have to guess—not when the creature begins to slowly wind around my body, starting at my ankles and slowly working its way up.
