A Heart of Crimson Flames (The Golden Court #3)

Briar

SHADOWS CLUNG TO MY MIND, HOWLING, MY VISION SPINNING.

I didn’t know if they knocked me unconscious via an elixir or a blow to the back of my head; I just knew I didn’t remember the journey here.

I also knew I was in a dungeon, a dress folded neatly beside me on the wet stone floor.

I frowned down at the crushed velvet gown.

It was a brilliant shade of crimson with a detailed silver filigree neckline.

Atop it sat a crescent diamond necklace.

Every detail was designed to craft me into a Silver Wolf trophy.

They want me to play the part of the Crimson Princess once more?

The costume—for that’s what it was, nothing more—told me clearer than a sign above my head: play the role. Behave.

That dress would imprison me more than the bars and the stone walls.

This is all they’ll let me be. A Wolf in a frock, held in place by a leash of silver and velvet. An instrument for someone else’s glory.

Instead of taking the dress, I stayed in my golden furs.

For one thing, it was far warmer than the velvet dress.

For another, it was safer if anyone entered the dungeons while I slept.

With my keener senses I could hear the slightest shuffle of footsteps overhead, the tinkling drips of water on the moldy stones, the groan of a warped wooden door opening, and the sound of anyone approaching.

My Wolf form also staved off the hunger far better than my human stomach.

Wolves gorged on a fresh kill and then went days, even weeks, without food before another hunt.

As I imagined tearing into a bloody stag, invisible claws raked through my empty insides.

I pushed that gnawing feeling to the back of my mind.

I didn’t know how many days we’d traveled to get here, didn’t even know if it was day or night, but of one thing I was certain from the must and sweat and distant reprieve of pinewood: we were in Highwick.

I’d been unwillingly returned to Nero’s castle, right back to where it all began.

This was what the Silver Wolves had always wanted from me—beauty and obedience.

It had been thinly veiled before, when I was engaged to Grae, but now it was clear they would lock me up until I submitted.

There was never truly a choice, not when the only options ever given were by the ones with all the power.

The thought that I had gone along with it for so long without protestation was laughable now.

Not a fierce Wolf royal, but a bird in a gilded cage.

Because of my sex, in their eyes, the only thing I was good for was being on the arm of a Silver Wolf prince.

When the only hand I wanted was so, so far away.

My senses reached out in every direction, craving a familiar pair of arms and her hushed words of comfort, but could not feel her. Where was my mate? Did she know I was Nero’s prisoner? Was Maez tearing the world apart to get to me right now? Would they kill her for it?

Dread pooled in my gut, its acid churning in my unfed stomach.

I hoped the others would be able to stymie Maez’s blind rage, plan a smarter tactic to come rescue me than simply slaughtering anyone in her path .

. . not that I would particularly mind seeing her in all her battle glory, but one Wolf against the entire Silver army was a death sentence.

My family would come, I had no doubt, but whether they would survive their rescue attempt was another thing entirely.

Anxiety and weariness clashed within me.

Here I was, once again the damsel in distress, needing my pack to come rescue me from the clutches of a tyrant.

I didn’t think my smiles and pleasantries were going to get me out of this one alive.

Moments before the door to the dungeons screeched open, I had heard steps in the hall, and now I strained my eyes trying to see who was beyond the brazier’s flickering firelight.

Every sound was a threat. I didn’t know if it was a guard come to bring me food or take me to the gallows. I just knew it wasn’t a friend.

And when he appeared through the bars of my cell, it wasn’t a guard at all. My maw curled into a snarl, baring my teeth.

Evres—Nero’s chosen heir, Grae’s replacement, and now Crown Prince of Damrienn and future pack leader. He had hard sharp features that some would’ve considered handsome if he didn’t have such disdain in his piercing silver gaze. Those haunting eyes trailed me now from nose to tail.

“Hello, dearest,” he crooned, drawing out every syllable. There was a glinting flash to his teeth as he spoke.

I forced myself to stay still, to not cower in front of him and stoke his need to dominate. But neither did I shift nor speak. I knew his type, had been trained since birth to deal with these arrogant royals. I knew any movement, any indication in my expression would only add more fuel to his fire.

Evres tipped his head to the dress beside me. “Don’t like your outfit, love? I can have the maids send another.”

More than his loathsome words, I hated the way he smiled. He was mocking me, goading me. His delightedly malevolent expression screamed: go on, try me.

I didn’t move.

“Look at you, Briar. Dainty, meek, helpless,” he said, licking his tongue across his canine tooth as if wishing he could take a bite out of me.

“Curled up into such a tiny little ball. You’ll need to be made of stronger stuff when you sit by my side.

Now put on the dress like a good girl and I’ll let you go to your chambers instead of rotting in this awful place. ”

I wanted to growl, wanted to shoot forward and see if I was fast enough to grab a hand wrapped around the bars before he had a chance to retreat. But I just stayed exactly as I was. Placid. Demure. Nonthreatening.

Domesticated.

“My betrothed wishes to stay down here, hungry and cold, another night?” He pursed his lips, his eyes seeming to light up, enjoying the challenge.

“That is fine by me. Give yourself some time to get acquainted with this place. I have a feeling this won’t be your last visit.

” His hands trailed along the bars with a clunk, clunk, clunk as he winked at me.

“Once you put that dress on . . . then we can talk about better arrangements for you.”

The dungeon door wailed shut again and I stared into the inky darkness, unmoving, for several more breaths.

I knew Vellia would’ve told me to always submit to the first request, that it makes them more trusting and malleable to know you give in so quickly.

The faery taught me how to play the part of obedient wife to my own gains—make them think they’d brought me to heel, grant me a longer leash, so that I may then exploit it.

It would be much easier for Maez and the others to rescue me from the throne room than from the dungeon.

Maybe I could even manage to flee toward the Stormcrest Ranges when out on a pack hunt through the forest. Calla had managed to outrun them; maybe I could, too.

But I wasn’t my twin.

That brought me up short. It felt like a knife to my side just thinking of them. I hoped Calla was okay—too far for me to sense them.

But that reminded me that I should’ve been able to still feel my mate.

Yet even in my shifted form, I couldn’t feel Maez anywhere, no connection to her or the rest of the pack.

Like a puppet with its strings cut, I was free-falling, reaching out but unable to feel her anywhere.

What did it mean? Where was she? If she was dead, I’d be dead, too.

At least that gave me hope. If she was alive, we’d find a way back to each other.

Sweet Moon, I missed Maez. Missed her scent and her warm soothing words and the way she’d kiss my temple when I was concerned. I missed her jokes and her cavalier confidence and the feeling of being so safe in her arms . . .

I permitted myself one single whimper as I curled into a ball against the dungeon wall.

At least when Sawyn had cursed me, I’d been asleep. At least I was laid on a bed in a high tower and not in a cold cell. At least I was somehow nourished in that magical dream state. It was a paradise compared to this—at least for me.

I thought of Maez, of how she had endured this for weeks under Sawyn’s imprisonment.

But even then, in some small ways it was a blessing she’d been captured by someone other than a king or prince, even then it was safer.

I knew Evres planned to take my body by force, a vessel for his future offspring.

And I wondered, too, how much of my soul I’d have to give just to remain alive.

Bile rose up my throat, and I was somewhat thankful to have no food in my belly. It was foolish of me to think I could’ve ever escaped this fate, to not be a pawn in a world ruled by men.

To simply be happy with my mate.

I swallowed and lifted my chin skyward, howling at the Moon Goddess even though she, like everyone else I loved, felt so far from me here.

I just have to survive until Maez comes for me. Whatever it takes.

I would not die here, not in body or spirit.

I wouldn’t let them crush me like they had so many Wolf queens before.

I was a Golden Wolf, I was the twin of the Golden Court Queen, I was the mate of the most gorgeous and fearsome warrior in all of Aotreas.

I wouldn’t be leashed by some stuck-up prince.

He will not win.

With my newfound resolve, I cried for the last time, buried my nose into my tail, and fell asleep.