Chapter Sixty-Three
Cadence
Horror gripped me as Ryker hit the floor. Panicked cries echoed through the hall, but my gaze stayed locked on his motionless body.
Ryker couldn’t fall. Not here. Not like this.
Riordan shouted my name as Callum shoved through the crowd toward me, yet I couldn’t look away.
Rough hands curled around my arms, and the chains tethering me to the floor fell away as the guards pulled me from the throne room.
“Ryker! Ryker!” I screamed until my throat burned, but he didn’t move.
“Riordan!” I scanned the hall, frantically trying to find him. He stood at Callum’s side, facing over a dozen soldiers in a vain pursuit to reach me.
They wouldn’t make it in time.
“Riordan!” Familiar storm-grey eyes locked with mine. “Get him out,” I shouted over the chaos. “Get them both out.”
His gaze flicked to his brother’s form crumpled on the ground and then to Callum before settling back on me. Hesitation seized him, and I knew I’d given him an impossible choice.
“Please!” If he didn’t save my brother and my mate, then it was all for nothing.
Reluctantly, Riordan dipped his chin in a curt nod and reached for Callum, but I quickly lost sight of them as I was dragged down a narrow hallway.
The air grew damp, and the light seemed to recoil the farther we traveled. No one spoke. The only sound filling the corridor was the heavy thunk of our footsteps.
When the path ended at a door made from iron bars, I sucked in a ragged breath.
The dungeons.
My feet skidded to a stop, and the guards gripping my arms hauled me forward, almost dislocating my shoulder. If not for the iron cuffs dulling my magic, I would have killed them where they stood.
“Don’t make it worse for yourself, Princess,” one guard said. “We have orders to use… unpleasant means should you not comply.”
“Ryker is going to slaughter you. All of you.”
The two brutes holding me in place chuckled, their spittle hitting my cheeks, making my lips lift in disgust.
“The Prince is finished. His Majesty has grown tired of his disobedience and has cast him aside.”
“You’re a godsdamned fool if you believe that. The King only wants his son to fall into line. Ryker is the weapon he wields against his enemies, and that won’t change.”
“Until Ryker dethrones him,” I thought, but I kept that morsel of information to myself.
I took sick satisfaction as their confidence drained away, leaving them pale in the dim light.
So, I leaned into it, picking at that scab until it bled.
“And when he finds out what you’ve done to me,” I said, my voice so low they had to strain to hear me, “he’ll end your miserable lives in the cruelest ways imaginable.
He will carve you up, piece by piece, until you’re begging for mercy that he does not possess. ”
One guard tightened his grip on my arm. “Move.” His voice was little more than a guttural snarl, but I could detect the faint trace of fear underpinning it.
I straightened, glaring at him. He looked away, refusing to meet my gaze.
Coward.
Stepping forward, I allowed them to lead me into the dungeon. Metal scraped against metal as one guard worked the key into the lock. When the mechanism sprang free and the door swung open, he nudged me inside, his movements far gentler than they had been moments ago.
I glanced around the stone walls, slick with condensation; the faint stench of mildew and rot wrinkled my nose. There were no windows in my cell, no way of knowing what was happening beyond my cage.
Had Riordan reached Ryker and Callum? Were they safe?
My hands clenched, my nails digging into my palms, and it was all I could do not to scream.
The sound of scurrying footsteps was the only sign that the guards had retreated.
I was alone, and that terrified me.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
My gaze swept the four walls of my cell, hunting for the noise. A rusted pipe along the ceiling sported a hairline crack where the mortar had given way, and a slow, patient leak had taken root.
I settled on the hard, cold floor, my back pressed against the unforgiving stone as I watched the tiny droplets fall. A small puddle had formed in the corner, and I sat transfixed as it darkened and grew with each drop.
Time warped in the dungeon.
Each heartbeat felt endless, yet the hours vanished without warning. Day gave way to night, and eventually it became impossible to measure. Hunger gnawed at my insides, and thirst left my tongue dry and cracked.
But no physical discomfort could match the torment of not knowing if Ryker was okay or if my brother had made it out. My mind turned against me, torturing me with visions of the horrors that might have befallen them while I was powerless to help.
Footsteps thudded outside the dungeon, yanking me away from my restless thoughts. The steps grew louder, and I scrambled to my feet. A key scraped in the lock, and my heart thundered.
Was this how it ended?
My hand flew to the small swell in my belly. If I died, then the life growing inside me would die right alongside me.
They never had a chance.
“I’m sorry, baby,” I said, choking on my tears.
“How touching.”
My head whipped up. Familiar grey eyes met mine, though devoid of the heat and kindness I knew. Instead, disdain and loathing glared back at me.
“What do you want?”
The King shook his head. “Hardly a wise start, when your life and your child’s rest in my palm.”
“You’ll kill me either way.”
A slow smile spread across the King’s face, and it sent an icy chill racing down my spine.
“You’re perceptive, I’ll give you that.” He leaned against the bars keeping me contained as he glanced around the dungeon. “Not the type of accommodations you are used to, I’m sure.”
“What do you want?” I repeated, not in the mood for whatever game he was playing.
The King’s smile sharpened. “I’ve come to tell you how it ends.”
My eyes held his, steady and defiant, even though my insides twisted with dread.
“I want you to understand why you’re going to die here.”
The finality in his tone slammed into me, but I refused to react. He’d get no satisfaction from my fear.
“I have no desire to let you grow old and comfortable in my dungeons.”
He and I had very different ideas of what comfort entailed.
“There will be an execution, and soon. But first,” the King smacked his lips together as if he were tasting something sweet. “I didn’t want you to leave this realm without knowing the truth.” His cold, pitiless eyes drilled into me, savoring the moment. “Every blade that hunted you… It was me.”
Air burst from my lungs in a sharp exhale.
“You sent the assassins after me?”
“Indeed, I did.” He grinned, as though he was proud of his efforts. “I’ll admit, I didn’t foresee you surviving this long.”
“Who?”
His gaze sparked with malice, and he needed no further context to understand my question.
“The Seelie envoy, of course.”
I tilted my head back as I stared at the ceiling. The image of milky eyes and a sinister smile flashed in my mind. When I returned my attention to the King, he was studying me with anticipation, eager to see how I would respond to his confession.
“He was standing on the dais, watching me as I was attacked. How could he be responsible? Unless he had help.”
He licked his lips as he practically vibrated with excitement. “The truth is far more exciting, my dear,” he said. “Mathias is a Mindcaster.”
Suddenly, it all made sense.
A Mindcaster could move objects with a single thought. He’d never left the dais, just watched with sick gratification as I bled out on the marble floor.
A shiver racked my frame, and I returned my attention to the King.
“But what about his ability to shield…” I cut myself off. “He inherited both strains of his parents’ magic,” I said, closing my eyes.
“Exactly!” The excitement in his tone made nausea swirl in the pit of my stomach. “Imagine what I could accomplish with all that power at my disposal.”
“Not if Ryker kills him first.”
“Once you are no longer around to mislead him, my son will fall into line.”
The idea of Ryker ever conforming was laughable, and almost as absurd as thinking I was the one corrupting him.
“If you believe that, then you don’t know your son at all. Ryker will kill Mathias, and then he’ll come for you.”
The King bared his teeth at me, his hands clutching the iron bars before he could think better of it. He sucked in a sharp breath, pulling away from the metal as he soothed his palms.
“My son will be so distressed by the loss of his mate bond he won’t be able to focus on anything else.” He leaned in, careful not to let his skin meet the bars. “And when he’s fallen as far as he can, I’ll give him what he needs.”
“Which is?”
“An enemy.”
It wasn’t hard to guess who he’d choose as the scapegoat. “The Crimson Enclave.”
“This time, he’ll eradicate your kind.”
“Ah, but you’re forgetting something,” I said with a conspiratorial grin.
“I doubt it, but let’s hear it.” The King crossed his arms over his broad chest, the faintest hint of trepidation furrowing his brow.
“Ryker doesn’t trust you. Even if he could set aside the fact that you ordered the execution of his mate —”
“The law is clear,” he said, not letting me finish. “No Wraith Borne shall be permitted to live.”
I shrugged, knowing full well Ryker had no regard for the law. “He’ll unravel your schemes, and mark my words, you will find no shelter from his wrath.”
The King’s nostrils flared, and he clenched his jaw. With one final look of disdain, he turned around and stalked away from me.
“Why?”
His footsteps halted. “Why what?”
“Why do you wish me gone so badly?”
Without turning to face me, he said, “It hasn’t escaped my notice who your father is, Cadence. You look just like him, you know.” He didn’t bother to conceal his hatred. “And I’ll be damned if I let that bastard, or anyone from the Crimson Enclave, take my throne.”