Chapter 61
Heavy footsteps grow louder, and I lift my head weakly from where I’m slumped on my cell floor.
I expect to see Lynx’s masked face, but instead, it’s Rheon.
Without a word, the guards unlock the gate and Rheon steps in, though he moves no farther.
He levels a steely gaze on me and says with cold detachment, “Last chance, soldier.”
I straighten slightly, but my back protests, the newly made and half-healed flogging wounds stinging. “I’m not your soldier,” I grit out.
So far, I’ve survived two trips to the whipping post. I’ll endure one hundred trips if it means Durvla remains safe—if it means Rheon never finds out I’m not the Shadow Wielder he seeks.
A smile stretches his face and his pupils dilate, inky darkness swirling in his eyes, melding with his irises for a moment.
My heart jolts. His eyes return to the usual dark blue, but I swear shadows creep across his skin.
The veins standing out in his neck appear darker than they should, and his skin is paler than his usual complexion.
Lowering my mental shields slightly, my senses immediately catch the vile, murky aura that surrounds him.
It feels tainted, wrong, causing my skin to itch and crawl and my stomach to twist with queasiness.
I pull my shields up and scuffle back on my ass, away from whatever beast Rheon is turning into.
His smile turns into a sneer as he steps closer. “I know you aren’t the Shadow Wielder,” he says.
My stomach drops like a damn rock.
“Either you surrender the information of who is, or I will continue to send you to the whipping pole until you submit.”
I keep my lips firmly sealed.
“Whatever your power is, I will have it. Whether you are willing or not.”
I breathe slowly. “What have you done, Rheon?”
“What needs to be done, boy.”
“It’s dangerous to fuck around with forces you don’t understand. Whatever shit you’re mixed up with could destroy the whole kingdom.”
Rheon only laughs, a rumbling, unnatural sound in his chest. My blood crawls.
I shudder, wincing as pain ripples across my back.
My body feels too worn—the lack of sufficient food and water weakening me with each passing hour.
It makes it harder for me to keep my shields up and block out the discordance of emotions around me.
“Will you give me the information I seek?” he asks.
I keep my mouth shut. I’ll be damned if I give in to this monster and whatever twisted plan he has.
“Very well,” he says with a sigh. “Come tonight, I won’t have to deal with you, and I will have your powers at my disposal.” He gives no further explanation, but leaves my cell, the gate clanging shut behind him.
I’ve overheard Carys reading countless stories about dark magic corruption. Rheon has all the classic signs: the darkening eyes, the shadows, the murky aura. Whatever plans he has for me tonight … I cannot even fathom it.