Chapter 54
JINGYI
The soup had simmered long enough. JingYi gave it a final stir, then stepped back from the hearth. It looked harmless: thin broth speckled with barley, marrow, and limp root vegetables. No scent betrayed what now coursed through it.
She ladled the stew into a black iron pot and stacked the bowls and spoons beside it.
Right on cue, one of the masked guards appeared at the threshold.
He barely glanced at her as he lifted the pot, muttering something about ‘another thin one.’ She watched him haul the evening meal down the corridor to the dug-out recess they used as the dining hall.
Her fingers trembled as she arranged a smaller tray—one silver bowl and spoon, a folded linen napkin, and a crystal tumbler of tepid water. Tedric’s meals were always delivered privately. Tonight would be no different.
She carried the tray, fingers locked tight around the edges to still their trembling.
The corridor outside Tedric’s chambers was dim and hushed.
He never bothered with guards, as if confident in his ability to protect himself.
He also never wore a mask, and she’d often wondered if it was foolishness or bravery.
She rapped the edge of the tray softly against the door, the way she always did.
“Enter,” he answered.
The door gave with a reluctant creak. Inside, Tedric lounged in the chair behind his desk, a gleaming blade resting on the polished wood before him. He dragged a whetstone along its edge in slow, deliberate strokes. Steel sang against stone.
“You’re late,” he said. He didn’t glance up.
JingYi stepped forward and lowered the tray with care onto his desk. “I apologize.”
He sighed. “You always apologize. It’s tedious.”
He finally looked up, eyes skimming her face before landing on the bowl. His lip curled. “I don’t know what I was thinking when I let you handle the kitchen. Still not much of a cook, are you?”
“There isn’t much to cook with. It’s a challenge to create something passable with dried tubers and bones. The last of the substantial ingredients ran out yesterday.”
Tedric propped his chin on a fist and huffed. “It’s foolish to attract attention by bringing in supplies.” He dipped his spoon into the stew, lifting it just high enough to watch the broth drip back into the bowl. “The sooner you accept my offer, the sooner we can leave this hole.”
Her eyes met his. “And go where?”
His smirk returned. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Her gaze lingered on the spoon as he finally brought it to his mouth. She watched his throat bob as he swallowed. He took another bite but gave up on the third and dropped his cutlery, splattering broth onto the table.
“Are there many places like this in the Nine Kingdoms?” she asked.
He didn’t answer, only wiped his lips with a napkin.
She watched him. The question she’d carried since her return from Aethonia pressed against her teeth, demanding release. Her throat tightened. Ask him. Just ask him.
“Are you . . . Castiel Vaelmont?”
His eyes lifted to meet hers and held her there, suspended in the silence of not knowing, mind scrambling to put together a puzzle for a glimpse of the bigger picture.
But the prickling at her nape said: The pieces didn’t quite fit.
He smiled and leaned back, fingers steepled, eyes distant with amusement. “My first kill was an Alpha, you know.”
She stared at him warily, the air thickening between them.
“They brought him to me in the groves near our house,” he went on, almost conversationally. “He was all bruised and tied up. I think they would’ve kept him like that for his execution, but I wanted to give him a fair chance.”
“A fair chance to do what?”
“Fight.”
He reached for the bowl and took another bite, then set the spoon down with a soft clink. “How can I prove I’m better than them if I’d started with an advantage?”
Her insides shuddered. So this was his drive: proving Beta competency over an Alpha.
“He lunged at me, all teeth and fury. Broke one of my ribs with his foot, actually. But I gutted him with my rapier. Took longer than it should’ve.” Pride gleamed in his eyes. “When I slit his throat, I thought: So that’s all an Alpha is. Meat and fear and the stink of desperation.”
He chuckled. “After that, it got easier.”
JingYi struggled to keep her face blank, wondering how soon it would be before the fungus took effect, or if it would take effect.
She unclenched her damp fists. “You certainly take pleasure in killing Alphas.”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Killing anyone is not a sport. Or, at least, it shouldn’t be.”
He snorted and rolled his eyes. “More’s the pity.”
“What have they done to you to warrant such hatred?”
His brow lifted, as if satisfied she’d finally asked something worthwhile.
“Ah, but that’s the thing, isn’t it? They don’t have to do anything. They’re born, and the world gives them power. Absolute, never questioned. And they wield it as if they’ve the right to decide everyone else’s fate.”
“Not all Alphas are corrupt.”
His eyes sharpened. “Like Lord Alexander Wulfbane?”
She froze.
“The Alpha who couldn’t stomach a blemish on his bride? Who abandoned you on your wedding night to stare at the moon outside his castle?”
JingYi drew a deep breath. Tedric certainly knew how to push on her tender spot, but she met his gaze calmly. “You know nothing about him.”
“Don’t I?”
“He may have his flaws, but he never lied to me about what he wanted. And when he makes mistakes, he tries to right them. Which is more than I can say for those who kidnap and torture Omegas to death in the name of freedom.”
Then, Tedric’s smile faltered. He blinked once. Then again, sluggish. His fingers twitched on the armrest, as if trying to curl around something no longer there. All at once, his body pitched forward. The chair toppled with him, stew splattering across the stone.
She didn’t dare move. The door slammed open. Haorán rushed in, unmasked, eyes locking onto Tedric’s crumpled body.
He didn’t hesitate, drawing a short blade from his boot with one smooth pull. “I’ll kill him,” he said flatly.
JingYi blocked him with her body, arm outstretched. “No.”
He didn’t move the blade. His chest heaved, muscles coiled, but he didn’t lower it. “He’s a threat. You know this.”
“So we kill him?” Her voice shook, but her stance didn’t. “Unarmed. Unconscious. Is that justice?”
A muscle in his jaw ticked. “My assignment is not to uphold justice. It’s to rescue you and Princess Adelise. His death will accomplish it.”
“Then tie him. Strip him. Take every weapon from him. If not for justice, then for information.”
Haorán didn’t argue anymore. Swiftly, he knelt beside Tedric and began stripping away the man’s weapons. The rapier by his hip. A hidden dagger in each of his boots. A thin, hooked blade beneath his jacket.
JingYi’s breath caught. Just how many ways could one man kill?
Haorán reached for the last strap across the torso.
Tedric’s eyes flew open. His body twisted, snapping upright with the alertness that should have been impossible. In the same motion, he slammed the heel of his palm into Haorán’s nose—bone met bone with a sickening crack.
Blood sprayed. Haorán staggered back. Stunned, but not down. Tedric rolled to his feet. He drove a knee into Haorán’s gut and reached for the knife Haorán had sheathed at his hip, wrenching it free.
Steel hissed. He lifted it high and aimed it at Haorán’s throat.
JingYi screamed. Haorán, still reeling, caught Tedric’s arm before the blade found his jugular.
The two men grappled, twisted, metal flashing between them in the narrow space.
The walls shuddered with every impact. Haorán shoved Tedric away and tossed her a set of keys.
“RUN!” he roared at her.
With trembling fingers, she grabbed the keys and fled—heart hammering, lungs burning, uneven steps echoing through the corridor. Pain flared in her hip with every stride, her limp growing more pronounced the faster she moved, but she didn’t stop.
The clash of steel rang behind her, sharp and terrible. She had to reach Adelise. Had to free the others.
And pray—pray they still had time.
Adelise was pacing when JingYi reached the cell. She rushed to the bars, knuckles white around the iron.
“What happened?” she hissed. “The guards started dropping like flies.”
JingYi missed the keyhole twice, her fingers shaking so badly the keys rattled. She clenched her fist, forced them still.
“I poisoned their meal. Haorán is keeping Tedric busy. He’s buying us time.”
Adelise’s eyes flared. “Is he mad?”
“Brave,” JingYi said tightly. “Hold still.”
The lock clicked. Adelise stepped out without hesitation. “Let’s move. The others—”
JingYi grabbed her arm. “Carefully. Some may still be too weak to stand. We’ll have to carry them in stages.”
Adelise’s fierce grin flashed. “You give the orders, I’ll follow.”
Together, they turned toward the cells, the weight of seven lives pressing hard against the narrow window of escape. But they only made it three steps. A sound rang out from the end of the gallery—scree—the cruel drag of metal against stone.
JingYi’s blood ran cold.
Tedric stood at the end of the walkway, rapier trailing in one hand, its tip streaking blood across the floor. Haorán’s blood? Tedric’s coat hung open, dark with sweat and blood spatter, and his smile—crooked and cold—didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Well,” he drawled, voice low and ragged, “aren’t we industrious.”
He stalked forward. JingYi didn’t miss the sheen of sweat on his upper lip, the tremor in his sword hand he was trying to mask. The fungus had worked. He just hadn’t swallowed enough. He’d played possum, waiting to see who would show themselves.
And Haorán had paid the price.
JingYi clutched Adelise’s hand, but Tedric was already on them. His hand closed around her neck. She choked. The keys clattered from her grasp as he yanked her back. Her limp threw her off-balance. He shoved her toward the railing, blade pressed across her belly.