Chapter 8 Bylur
Irushed down the last flight of stairs as I used my shadows to rip Amatavi off Auria. I paused at the entrance to the prison room. I wanted to storm in there and make sure she was not hurt, but she would see me. Everything we’d planned would be over before we even began.
But I could not leave her alone with Amatavi. He was trained to find threats and get rid of them. Of course, he would see a human showing up now as a threat. I should have thought of it before I sent her in.
She was not a threat. She was my wife. She’d put her life in my hands and left everything she knew to help me.
And I’d sworn to protect her. Shadows burn me, I’d vowed it.
My magic rolled off my body as inky shadows while I stormed into the room.
If everything ended now, so be it. Daneira would not steal my honor.
I froze when I stepped into the room and saw Auria, strung up like a traitor, with her eyes pinched closed.
My heart pounded with a fury I’d never known before—here she was, about to be tortured by a fae soldier for trying to help me, and instead of condemning me for my failure, she closed her eyes to save me from my curse.
I crossed the room to stand in front of her.
She bit her lip as I approached and whispered my name. “Bylur?”
“Yes.” I cradled the side of her face with one hand and poured magic into her swollen cheek, healing it in seconds. She breathed out and leaned her face into my hand as I ripped the chains attached to her wrist cuffs out of the ceiling with my free hand.
“Thank you for coming,” she whispered, and my heart twisted. We’d only been separated for minutes, but it must have terrified her.
“I will always come. I promised—” I’d vowed to keep her safe, and I’d already failed. I turned my head to the soldier on the floor. “Amatavi. Give me your keys.”
“I—” The soldier stuttered. I would have already killed him if I didn’t know he’d done it all out of loyalty to me. “I don’t have keys.”
Of course not. He wouldn’t have needed them to lock her into the shackles, and he probably had no plan to let her out.
I picked up her wrists with my free hand and threaded my magic into the locks on the cuffs, easing solid shadows around the locking mechanism.
It was crude. Simple. But it didn’t need to be fancy to hold the wrists of dying traitors.
I resisted the urge to crush the metal—that wouldn’t help her caged wrists—and pressed on the locking mechanisms with my shadows.
The cuffs clicked open, and I tossed the metal away from us.
I took one of her freed hands in mine and bent my head close to hers.
“Thank you for closing your eyes,” I whispered in her ear.
She nodded and gripped my hand tighter. We needed to leave. But first—
I shifted my body to stand behind her and gently gripped her upper arms. “Open your eyes,” I whispered. Then I glared at Amatavi over her shoulder. “Bow,” I ground out, “before my wife.”
Horror filled his already concerned face, and he pressed it to the ground. He didn’t whine or beg for mercy like some would. I kept my hands on Auria’s arms so she’d know where I was. “What would you like me to do to him?” I asked, my voice low but loud enough for the soldier on the floor to hear.
She tipped her head to the side, but did not turn around. “What are my options?” Her question was breathy, like she was still too nervous to speak properly.
Her nerves made me more angry. Angry enough that I would punish Amatavi, no matter what his motivations had been. “Anything,” I growled.
She huffed a soft chuckle, and Amatavi risked lifting his face to hers. She tilted her head down toward him. “I told you that you’d regret hurting me.”
He paled so fast that I wanted to laugh too, and then he plastered his face back on the ground.
Auria’s arms relaxed, and she blew out a short breath. “All right. Let’s go.”
I didn’t move. “How would you like me to punish him?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know—that felt pretty good.”
He dragged his face up from the ground with his jaw hanging low.
Auria might not know what I was capable of, but he certainly did.
“The fae body can take a lot of pain,” I muttered.
Amatavi heard and dropped his face again.
“I could set magic to torture him all night, and then we could forgive him in the morning.”
She shuddered and shook her head. “I think he actually thought he was helping you. Unless—” she started to turn around, but then stopped herself. “Unless you’re not actually concerned about traitors and spies in all of your evening meetings?”
I ground my teeth before answering. “I am very concerned about traitors and spies, especially right now.”
“And—” She swallowed, loud enough for me to hear. “And he’s fae too, right? So he can’t lie either?”
“Correct,” I answered. What was she thinking?
“Then, punishing him for this would be like punishing him for an overabundance of loyalty.”
Amatavi lifted his face again, this time with more hope than he had any right to feel.
I glared over her shoulder, hoping he could see my displeasure. “I will not have you mistreated by the very soldiers who should be protecting you.”
“Never again.” Amatavi finally risked speaking. He looked at Auria instead of me—a wise choice on his part. “You will never fear me again. And I will do everything I am capable of to make sure you never fear anything or anyone else again. I vow it.”
Fae did not normally make vows so openly. One or two a decade might be typical, but Auria had just heard two in one evening. She was going to think they were promises we dropped like the winter courts dropped snowflakes.
She patted my hand, still on her shoulder. “There. All good. Now, I’d really like to leave this place.”
* * *
I led Auria out of the prison with a hand on the small of her back, guiding her through the underground labyrinth and up the spiral staircases until we stepped back out into the crisp night air. Walking out of the doorframe, she shivered. I unclasped my cloak and wrapped it around her.
She muttered a “thank you” as Parcival strode toward us. His eyes flew from her grip tightening around my cloak to me. “My lord, Captain Mushrank said you needed me here urgently.”
“Yes, Parcival.” I nudged Auria toward him.
“I’ve found a wife. Obviously she can’t look at me now, so I need you to help.
” The door behind me clicked open again, and Amatavi stepped out.
I ignored him and finished giving instructions to Parcival.
“Her arrival was not what I’d hoped for.
I trust you can take better care of her. ”
“Of course, sir.” My steward bowed at the waist toward her. “My lady.”
Auria didn’t turn around, but she stepped backward, brushing my chest with her shoulder.
I gripped her shoulders. How would we ever last a year without looking at each other? “He is safe,” I reassured her. “The original plan was to tell him because he will take care of you.”
She drew a deep breath and rolled her shoulders back. I smiled. This was the woman who had stared at a giant bear and asked him if he could lie. She would be fine. She took a step toward him, but Amatavi cleared his throat.
I quickly shifted to Auria’s side, so we could both look at the guard. “My lord, my lady. I’m scheduled to be on duty all night, but the gate can spare me if a guard is needed for your room.”
How comfortable would Auria be at this idea? Parcival, knowing the danger in her looking at me, stepped between us. But he needn’t have worried—Auria was staring at Amatavi.
When she spoke, the terror and trembling from the prison had all left. She was as confident as she’d been in the Summer Realm. And she addressed the soldier who had attacked her. “What would happen if a fae broke a vow he’d made?”
He shook his head. “I can’t knowingly break that vow. My body would freeze or my mouth would refuse to say anything that my magic recognizes as a violation of that promise. It’s not physically possible.”
She reached across Parcival, and I took her hand. It was the only way I could interact with her if she couldn’t look at me. “Then, if you think he’s safe, I like his idea. In case anyone else has concerns about me that are similar to the ones he had.”
I nodded. “Done. I’ll see you both in a few hours.” I squeezed Auria’s hand and spun away from them all. I would enter the palace through the shadows.