Chapter 27
I didn’t know how much time had passed. Minutes. Hours. The lashes had long since stopped, but their crack still echoed through my skull every time silence settled too heavily around me.
At some point, the lock finally scraped open.
Marcus walked ahead of me in silence as he led me through an unfamiliar part of the Ludaryn and down a steep flight of stone steps.
Our footfalls echoed through the narrow passage.
The deeper we went, the colder the air became.
The corridor widened at last into a dungeon lined with iron-barred cells on either side, most of them empty.
A single candle burned at the far end. Vayren hung chained against the wall, his head lowered, blood visible even from this distance, streaking down his chest and soaking the waistband of his armor. My fists clenched.
Marcus didn’t slow. He led me past the cells, deeper still, until he stopped before a weathered wooden door. He opened it and stepped aside.
The moment I crossed the threshold, instinct urged me to turn back.
But the door shut behind me. Marcus remained between me and the only way out.
My eyes adjusted to the dim light, taking in the iron rings fixed into the walls, the lengths of chain resting along the floor, the broad table at the center worn by use, and the tools arranged with precision—whips, rods, restraints—objects fashioned for obedience.
“Marcus… whatever you’re planning, I know you’re an honorable man,” I said, though my voice betrayed my fear.
“I brought you here to remind you of something,” he replied, his tone controlled.
“You forced me to raise my voice. Before the guards. The Bondwards. The warriors… Vayren lost control, yes. But because of you.” He began to pace.
“I have spent years shaping him into the weapon he is, refining discipline into instinct, and now you—a girl not yet fully bonded—presume to disrupt that order?”
His composure thinned with every step. Something darker pressed beneath it. I didn’t move. But I watched him carefully. And for the first time… I saw the instability beneath the mask.
He stopped abruptly in front of me.
Before I could draw breath, his hand closed around my throat. He slammed me back against the table. Cold metal bit into my spine as the air was torn from my lungs.
“Everything was in order—and you broke it!” he screamed, the words ripped from him, unrestrained. His face loomed inches from mine. His eyes—wild. Unrecognizable.
“You don’t get to break what I built!”
I flinched. My gaze dropped despite myself, unable to meet what burned in him as his grip tightened. My fingers clawed at his wrist. Air thinned—
Then—
He let go.
He turned his back as if nothing had happened. He dragged a hand through his hair, parting it neatly down the middle again before smoothing his robes. When he faced me again, he was composed.
“I apologize,” he said evenly. “I should not lose my temper.”
No trace remained of the madness.
“All will be well. All will be forgotten, if you follow my orders to the letter now… You appear to have influence over him. If you wish to remain alive, you will do exactly as I instruct. I have seen the glint in Vayren’s eyes—he will claim you sooner or later.
But from this moment forward, every action you take, every word you speak will be guided by my hand. ”
He stepped closer. Calm. Controlled.
“He is the ultimate weapon. It is imperative that he continues to perform for the masses as the Ringbreaker. You will ensure that he does.”
“Do you understand?”
I couldn’t track the shifts—unsteady, cold, composed. Too fast. He was mad. The facade was gone. He was just like the fanatics. Worse. A fanatic with power. I held his gaze, forcing my breathing to steady. “Why? Why him, and why does the Imperator care who entertains the crowd?”
His expression hardened. “You will do as commanded. Curiosity is a sin.”
“You are just like your uncle, forever reaching beyond your station, never content with the place assigned to you. It is no wonder the Imperator ordered his death.”
The words struck me. Hard.
“Elion meddled where he had no authority.” He continued, cold now. “Mistaking access for importance. Mistaking tolerance for trust.” He stepped closer. “Did you never question why we permitted his retirement?”
His gaze didn’t leave mine.
“He had become… inconvenient.”
The room seemed to close in.
“Stripped of status, he should have stayed in his home. Raised you quietly. But he could not accept limits, and this is where it led him… If I discover that you defy me, again… if you follow his path even one step further, these walls will be the only ones you see for the rest of your life. Do you understand?”
My blood turned freezing.
“You knew,” I whispered. “You knew he would be murdered.”
My voice trembled, then steadied.
“You accepted the invitation… knowing your staff—your friend—would be slaughtered.”
I backed toward the table, my hand searching blindly until my fingers closed around an iron rod. Cold. Solid. The truth snapped into place. The Imperator had given the order. Marcus had made it possible.
“He left me no choice,” he replied without hesitation. “Order must be maintained at all costs. Friend or foe, it is the same in the eyes of the Imperator.”
I didn’t think. I moved.
The rod came down hard against his temple. The crack rang sharp. Blood spilled instantly as he staggered, bending with a curse, his hands flying to his face.
“You—fucking wretch! Guards!”
The door burst open. Three men rushed in. They surrounded me before I could strike again, seizing my arms, wrenching the rod from my grip, forcing me forward over the iron table. I fought. It didn’t matter.
Marcus straightened slowly behind me, blood staining his fingers.
“Do not mark her face,” he said coldly. “Vayren must remain compliant. But teach her the consequences of her actions.” He turned toward the door—then glanced back.
“When they are finished, you will go to Vayren. You will ensure he listens. He will kneel and renew his vow to me as his Lanista. Do you understand?”
I pressed my cheek harder against the cold metal. I said nothing.
“Teach her.”
They hauled me upright. The first blow came fast. A fist drove into my stomach with brutal precision. The air left me in a broken gasp as pain exploded outward.
“Do you understand!” Marcus shouted.
I couldn’t speak. The pain consumed everything. I nodded, barely. He turned and left, the door slamming shut behind him.
One of the guards wrenched my head upright by my hair. I lifted my chin and met his eyes. I saw it then. Hesitation. A tightening in his jaw. His fist drove toward my stomach—
Then slowed at the last moment. The blow still landed. Still hurt. But it didn’t hollow me out like the first. He struck me again, and again. Enough to bruise. Not enough to break me. Silent tears slipped down my face as I hung between them, struggling to draw breath.
Then he leaned closer.
“Try to please him,” he muttered. “I’ve seen men and women never leave this room. Consider this your last mercy. We can’t help you.”
He straightened and gave a brief nod to the others.
They released me. I hit the floor hard. For a moment, I couldn’t move.
Breath came shallow. Pain bloomed beneath my ribs.
Time blurred. Then slowly… I pushed to my hands and knees, one arm wrapped around my stomach.
I forced myself upright. Used the wall to steady myself as I staggered toward the door.
Out into the corridor, slowly. Driving myself forward. Toward him.
Vayren came into view as I approached. Blood marked his chest in dark streaks, his head lowered so that his hair clung to his skin, damp with sweat and crimson, while his arms were bound high above him in iron restraints that drew his body taut against the stone, his weight resting back against the wall in silence.
“Vayren,” I whispered.
His head shifted, and though his movements were restrained he sharpened instantly, his gaze traveling over me with a focus that erased everything else. The moment he noticed the way I stood and the slight curve of my posture, something ignited behind his eyes.
“I’m fine,” I said softly, stepping closer despite the bars between us. “Are you badly injured?”
He didn’t answer. His jaw tightened instead. When he spoke, his voice was controlled in a way far more threatening than a shout. “Have they touched you?”
“They struck me. But the guard held back. I’ll recover.”
The effort of staying upright finally became too much. I sank against the bars, sliding slowly to the floor as pain twisted through my stomach.
A low growl left him. Fury. Pure and restrained. The chains groaned as he pulled against them. I looked up sharply. Veins stood beneath the blood streaking his arms as the steel strained against the wall. Muscles flexed violently beneath his skin. Then—
Crack. One chain ripped free. My breath caught.
Another snap echoed through the dungeon.
The chains tore loose from the stone entirely.
The cuffs remained around his wrists, lengths of broken metal dangling heavily from them.
Blood dripped steadily onto the floor. One step.
Then another. Until only the bars remained between us. “They will answer for that,” he said.
He wrapped both hands around the bars. And pulled. They bent slowly apart with a violent groan, just wide enough for him to force himself through.
Goddess. And this was without Kharos close by.
He crossed the remaining distance in seconds before kneeling in front of me. The chains hanging from his wrists clinked as he gathered me into his arms like I weighed nothing at all.