12. Max
MAX
C oldiron was everywhere, and they were my friends. They answered to no one but me. Before I could stop it, a low, satisfied chuckle escaped from the back of my throat.
“You think this is funny, little warlock?” Drakken snapped, his cold eyes pinning me.
“First of all, I’m not a warlock. I don’t know any spells.
” I met his gaze. “Second, I have to be honest with you—I’ve never met anyone more exhausting.
And third, even if you keep me in the dungeon forever, my answers will still be the same.
I’m nobody but a simple miner. And I believe, as important as you are, you have better things to do than waste your precious time on me. ”
“You do have better things to do, don’t you, Drakken?” Caspian offered casually, as if trying his best not to provoke the dragon. “I certainly do. Let’s move on instead of staying stuck here.”
Drakken ignored the shifter.
“Nice try,” he sneered. “You’re not a simple miner. You’re an amazing actor. You should be proud of yourself for your outstanding performance.”
He tried to stare me down with his full alpha weight, a predator’s dominance pressing against the air itself, expecting me to buckle.
I held it.
Pulse hammering. Skin prickling. But whatever lived inside me rose to meet his challenge like a wall of black water, lending me strength I had no right to have.
Caspian’s eyebrows lifted. Drakken hid it well, but I caught the flicker. I understood hierarchy among predators. Not many could withstand his stare without crumbling.
“If you aren’t a spy,” he pressed, his voice rougher, “the witches would never have let you pass through their territory. No one has succeeded before.”
He wanted me to admit I was a witch and a spy. Roll with it, I confirmed his suspicions. Deny it, he’d take denial as proof of guilt as he’d already made up his mind to hate anyone connected to his enemy. The man saw what he wanted. His hatred was a lens that warped everything into the same shape.
“Call me a bad liar, a good actor, or an alchemist all you want.” I drew a breath. “I’m not a spy.”
“You’re no alchemist!” he barked. “It’s a reputable profession. No witchcraft in it.”
He respected alchemists then. I filed that away.
And if I weren’t worrying about Desta and Kaid, hoping they were alive, desperate to search for them, I’d probably consider this paradise, even with the interrogation dragging on. No work. Three meals a day. Prison food here was better than anything I’d eaten in the mines.
Was that sarcasm? the demon asked.
“I’m done answering your ridiculous questions.
” I let the fury pour out. “I wouldn’t wish this on anyone, not even the guards in the mine.
But you? I wish you—a spoiled, privileged prince—were forced to work in the deepest tunnel at Crimson Ridge.
The kind where the air is so thick with dust you breathe through a rag and still cough blood by the end of your shift.
Where the ceiling groans and shifts overhead like it’s deciding whether to bury you alive.
I hope you spend fourteen hours on your hands and knees in the dark, digging until your fingers split and your back seizes.
Then you can talk to me about keeping up a fucking appearance. ”
Silence shocked the room. Even the guards at the back held their breath.
“Let me go, and I’ll thank you for your hospitality.
” I smiled, all white teeth and nothing nice behind them.
“But if you murder me because I’m helpless right now, because I have no power to stop you, know this: I’ll seek justice even as a vengeful ghost.” I leaned forward in my chair.
“You might not believe in phantoms, but I do. And I’ve seen them.
I won’t go quietly beyond the After. I’ll haunt you until the end of time, until you’re deep in your grave, your bones rotten and?—”
“Whoa, whoa, stop, Max.” Caspian raised a hand. “I get it—you’re hungry and angry and cranky. But it won’t go that far. No one’s going to murder you, not while I’m here. Chill. Take a deep breath. One, two, three. ”
The shifter watched me as he calmed me down, his green eyes bright with heat.
Shit. Was he turned on?
Drakken rose, his chair screeching against stone.
He stalked toward me, violence rolling off him.
His fists clenched at his sides, veins cording his neck.
Smoke curled from his nostrils. The gold in his eyes blazed like twin furnaces.
The dragon wasn’t peeking anymore. It was right there, behind a man’s face, and it wanted blood.
“Drakken, stop!” Caspian vaulted over the table, positioning himself between us, trying to talk the dragon down. “Don’t do something you’ll regret, man.”
If he laid a finger on me, I’d rip off his scales.
I reached for the drop of Coldiron in the ceiling, ready to plunge the room into darkness. Then I’d fight my way out. I’d shatter any power running through the tainted Stormglass and bring this fucking fortress down.
Here, here, Max! the drop of Coldiron hummed. Here I am.
The door burst open.
Aelindor and Nikolai strolled in. The Fae prince moved with unhurried grace, his gaze sweeping the room in one pass—taking in Drakken’s aggression, Caspian’s defensive stance, and me sitting in my chair with a cold smile.
Drakken and Caspian both turned toward the door .
“You’re back, Aelindor.” Caspian’s relief wasn’t subtle.
Aelindor nodded, but his gaze stayed on me. Whatever he read in my face hardened his expression.
“This has gone on too long.” His voice was soft but carried the weight of a man accustomed to being obeyed. “The interrogation is over.”
“But—” Drakken started.
“Max is not the enemy, even if he has witch blood.” Aelindor’s tone didn’t sharpen.
It didn’t need to. “I let you have your way against my better judgment and put him in that holding cell, Drakken. He should not have been there. I regret the mistake, and I’m correcting it now.
” He paused, letting that land. “You will not let your hatred for the White Witch blind you. We have witches and mages in our service, fighting and dying for our cause. Not all of them are the enemy, and Max has done nothing to deserve this. Work on it.”
“I stand with Aelindor on this.” Nikolai’s gaze glued to me, and it held undeniable longing and hunger.
I tried not to shudder. Once I was let out, I’d steal a scarf. Cover my neck.
“As do I.” Caspian added his vote quickly.
Three against one. Drakken’s dark gaze darted between the other heirs. Something closer to betrayal flickered behind his eyes. His jaw tightened. His shoulders bunched.
The dragon prince backed away without a word. But before he turned for the door, he gave me one last look that said: This isn’t over. He’d be watching, waiting. The moment I proved him right, no one would stop him .
I held his stare until he was gone.
I released my grip on Coldiron.
Next, Max? The sentient metal vibrated with eagerness. What should we do?
Nothing, I said. For now.
The limelight overhead flickered for a second, then stabilized. I kept my face blank, revealing nothing.
Aelindor crossed the room and extended a hand toward me. A peace offering.
I hesitated, studying that outstretched hand—the long, elegant fingers, the quiet steadiness of it. Then I placed my hand in his. The touch sent an electric shock through my arm, down to my toes.
It wasn’t that no man had ever touched me. I’d held hands with Rogue, and it had felt warm and safe. But this was different. This was a living current humming, pulling at something sleeping deep inside me. It made me wonder what it would feel like if he pulled me into his arms and kissed me.
Aelindor’s eyes glowed blue, and for one unguarded heartbeat, longing crossed his features—the kind that surprised even its owner. The next heartbeat, he’d smoothed it away, his expression settling back into cool composure. But I’d caught the flash of pleasure before it vanished.
I yanked my hand back despite the protest of my body.
I’d show no weakness. Need was a vulnerability I hadn’t known I carried, and I refused to let it rule me now.
I cleared my throat. “Thank you, sir. Can I go? ”
“Of course.” A faint smile touched his lips. “You’re not a prisoner, Max. Not anymore. But where will you go?”
Itrusted him a fraction more than before, but I wasn’t about to hand over everything. My friends and I had decided our destination would be Ashford—a town in Wyoming where neither the White Witch nor the heirs held firm control.
“One of the frontier towns.” I kept it vague.
“You won’t survive out there.” Nikolai leaned against the table, arms crossed. “Not alone. Not in your condition.”
“I’ll take my chances.” I smirked.
“Or you could stay.” He straightened, his voice losing its casual edge.
“Stay, Max.” Caspian stepped forward, earnest. “We’ll help search for your friends, if they’re still in the area. We have resources you don’t. When you’ve regained your strength, you can join the search yourself.” He met my eyes, and my pulse quickened. “How does that sound?”
I bit my lower lip.
Trust was a foreign language I’d never learned to speak.
But the smart thing was to stay. Caspian was right—I had no supplies, no allies, no knowledge of the territory beyond the Scorched Wastes.
If Desta and Kaid were still out there somewhere, these people had a better chance of finding them than I did, alone and half-starved.
Also, I really wanted another one of those peanut butter sandwiches. I could eat them for every meal .
“Fine,” I said, letting reluctance coat my voice.
“You’ll have to earn your keep, like everyone else!” Drakken’s hard voice cut in from the doorway.
He hadn’t left. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, shoulders filling the frame.
The gold had receded from his eyes, leaving cold gray, but his expression stayed shuttered and hard.
He’d composed himself behind that wall of duty and iron control.
No heat shimmer. Just a prince guarding his kingdom from what he believed was a threat, even if the other three had overruled him.
I held his stare a beat, then looked away. He was wrong about me. But he wasn’t wrong to protect his territory.
“What are your skills?” Aelindor asked, drawing me back. “I don’t suppose you want to work in a mine. We have a small one near the east border.”
The east border. I’d heard about it—dangerous territory where the DarkVeil split the chasms along what used to be Kansas and Oklahoma.
A wall of shadow and warped space nothing could cross.
No one knew what had become of the East Coast after the Rupture, or whether New York still stood.
The mine near those chasms would be grim.
“No mines,” I said.
Aelindor nodded, as if he’d expected that answer and only asked out of courtesy.
“We have many positions available. Kitchen crew, factory worker, tailor, messenger.”
“There’s a position open in my office.” Nikolai examined his nails with studied casualness. “I need a new secretary. I’ve been meaning to fire Tiffiny for a while.”
“Does Max look like a desk type to you?” Caspian rolled his eyes.
“I’m willing to take a chance on him.” The look Nikolai gave me grew hungrier. “I’ll have him trained.”
“Can you read?” Aelindor asked.
I straightened. “Yes. But I want to be a soldier and nothing else.”