Ballad of Whispers (The Sunchosen Chronicles #1)

77. Taste of Fate

Chapter 77

THEON

The guard was apparently not a fan of the sea shanty I’d chosen.

I’d have to let Ferrin know his favorite was not a crowd-pleaser.

How the bulky guard still managed to land a blow through the cell bars was mildly impressive. I raised my volume, laughing as two more found my jaw. There was no point straining against the manacles—or the godsilk beneath them.

Kept from the chafing, at least.

I braced for another strike, but the shouts of a different guard announced a shift change.

“Keep him recognizable?—”

“And pretty, please,” I coughed.

A gruff voice groaned, followed by a hand slamming against the bars. The second guard, at least, I recognized. A foot soldier in the Kacidon armies, but not one I’d personally trained.

“And prepare the cell next door before you leave,” the new guard said. “We have a new addition.”

“How much godsilk?” the man with the bloody fists asked.

I smiled to myself. They would not make that mistake again, it seemed. I wondered if their comrade had managed to expel all the water from his lungs yet.

“As much as we can find,” the foot soldier replied, dropping his voice to a near whisper. “This one is a golden child.”

How the fuck did they get a Sunchosen?

“Not that one,” the foot soldier corrected when the other guard gasped. “No word on where the crimson Threader bitch is. We got another.”

The crimson Threader? Another? That could only mean?—

Fucking Divine above.

“But this one will tell us the rest. We’ll find the Threader for the other. She can’t run forever.”

Red was a damned Sunchosen.

I glanced around as best I could, coming to terms with the fact that I’d befriended a damned golden child over the last eight months. No sign of the one they had managed to capture.

Five Hells, how had they managed that?

The security in the dungeon must have been extensive if they planned on bringing them here.

Then again, no one I’d had the pleasure of being around so far seemed to be of any important standing. They were absolute shit at secrecy. The two guards who’d first dumped me here had spent hours chatting about their little society, practically laying out their plans to climb the ranks and become part of the Incarnates. My interest had peaked when the discussion turned to their most pressing matter?—

Their need for a certain redhead.

Which now made a lot more sense. As much as possible, with whatever the hells was happening down here.

“Boys,” a low voice drawled from the entrance, shoes clicking against the stone floor of the dungeon.

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

“What the fuck is my guard doing covered in blood?”

The two men drew their swords, raising them toward the Frost Prince.

He laughed.

“He is here on orders that far surpass yours, Prince,” the foot soldier spat.

“Ah, yes,” Aspen said, sauntering up to the edge of the blade. He pushed it down with the tip of a finger. “I’ve already ironed out those details. There’s been a misunderstanding. This Winthrall belongs to me.”

“You spoke to Calum?” The other guard barked a laugh.

“I spoke to Dante.”

Oh, you fucking martyr.

Aspen Gavalon and his hero complex.

“You are all under my command now,” Aspen explained. “You may return to being stunningly incompetent. Elsewhere.”

The guards shared a disbelieving look. Aspen popped open a button of his tunic, exposing the raw, red flesh of his torso. The carving still scabbed across his sternum.

I struggled to breathe.

“What reason can you possibly have to still be here?” Aspen asked, gesturing a hand toward them. “Theon was the only prisoner housed in these dungeons—quite foolishly, may I add. Take your leave.”

The foot soldier barked another laugh. “You have no standing to command anyone here.”

“Would you like to test that?” Aspen drawled, looking so bored with the conversation, you’d think he was discussing the weather.

“Go ahead. Ask Dante.” He grinned. “See how that pans out.”

The two seemed to come to their senses, ensheathing their blades before making their way from the dark room.

As soon as their footsteps faded, all traces of haughtiness vanished from Aspen. He rushed to the cell door, unlocking it with a key from his pocket. Curses spilled from his lips as he sent bursts of warm healing magic across my broken skin, fumbling with the manacles.

Then, my brother pulled me into a crushing hug.

The shaking in his body was so fierce that I pulled back to hold him still.

“What the fuck did you do?” I asked, trying not to shout.

“We don’t have much time, Theon,” he said frantically, searching every corner of the room for lingering signs of life. A wall of ice rose around us as he did—extra security to hide whatever he was about to say.

“I should have known Calum’s talk was more than just spewed hatred,” I seethed. “Should’ve realized he’d stop at nothing to achieve his goals.”

“I have to get you out before they notice. Find Deya. She has Iris, and you can?—”

I shoved him away, stepping back several paces. My gaze locked onto the carving across his pale skin.

It looked nothing like what we’d seen in Marikaim. No black seeped along the edges. It was still.

“It’s just the symbol,” he explained, chest rising and falling with heavy pants. “They don’t have the resources to finish the ritual yet.”

He’d given up everything he’d ever worked for. Every painstaking moment spent ripping himself from his father’s ideals. From the King of Kacidon’s vision for his only remaining heir.

For all the world to see, Aspen Gavalon had become exactly what they’d expected him to be.

He rushed forward, grabbing my arm. “We don’t have time for this, you have?—”

“Fuck that,” I said, unmoving.

His head tipped back, laced with utter exhaustion.

“Theon, I know you can’t trust?—”

“I’m not leaving you here.”

His gaze snapped back to mine, mouth slightly agape.

“The Incarnates,” I said. “You’re going to infiltrate their ranks, aren’t you? Make them believe you stand for whatever the hell their vision is. Gather every piece of intel you can—for Red.”

The guards hadn’t exactly been tight-lipped. I already knew Calum’s ‘society’ was just a cover for recruitment. The Incarnates were so much bigger than the few attacks we knew about. An entire underground network. And those who bore the mark now slashed across the Frost Prince’s skin?

They ranked higher.

But what the fuck were they really after—other than Iris?

Aspen nodded slowly. “If she doesn’t kill me before I can get it to her.”

Which she very well might—if he was here without her.

Red would never have let him do this alone.

I glanced down again at the angry red lines on his sternum.

“And then what?” I goaded, already knowing the answer.

He swallowed, setting his jaw. I watched as my brother became the portrait of calm rage.

A man who’d lost—and found—himself with love.

With Iris Virlana.

A man they should be very, very afraid of.

“And then,” he said, voice steady, “I will watch them crumble.”

The Incarnates had no fucking clue what they were in for.

With either of them.

She was about to be their reckoning.

And he’d carve the path for her with his bare hands.

“We will watch them crumble,” I amended.

“No, Theon?—”

“I’m highly offended you didn’t invite me,” I said, sticking out my hand. “You will not do this alone.”

Granted, it wouldn’t have been my first choice of Felfrost celebration, but alas.

Aspen warred with the decision, silent for several moments before clasping his icy hand in mine.

“Let’s burn it to the ground, brother,” I grinned.

A piercing crack rang out. Time fractured—shattering, rebuilding. Aspen doubled over as the world shook, debris flying in every direction. Dirt rained from the roof of the dungeons as a calamitous force shook through the very fibers of existence.

When the dust settled, knees in the dirt, I could feel the shift. The sharp taste of fate that lingered.

Whether it was for the better?

That remained to be seen.