Chapter 57
ChApter
Fifty-Seven
Celeste
Nadya and I tear down the corridor, the cold gnawing at my legs despite the heavy fabric of my gown. Our boots barely make a sound on the stone, but the thundering footsteps behind us grow louder. We take a sharp turn, reaching for the handle of a heavy door—locked. Another door—locked.
Nadya curses under her breath. “It’s like they knew we’d try to hide.”
“We just need one.” I pant. “One that isn’t bolted.”
We round another corner, nearly skidding on a patch of frost-slick stone, and finally a door gives way under my shove.
We stumble inside, slamming it behind us, my heart beating so loudly, it drowns out everything else.
The room is dim, dust suspended in the cold air like motes of ash.
Shelves of forgotten ledgers and tarnished candelabras line the walls, but only thin slits for windows, not big enough for a body to fit through. No other exit.
Nadya presses her back to the door, both of us heaving, the damp air stinging my throat. “What now?” she whispers, frantic. “We can’t stay here.”
I pace, my pulse thrashing in my ears. “Can you use your magic—cloak us?”
Nadya shakes her head, her eyes wild. “Maybe. I don’t know how long it’ll hold. I don’t know how far we’ll get.”
“We have to try.” I search the room, looking for something to keep us warm if we make it outside. “Please.”
“And then what?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know, but this can’t be it. We have to at least try to get out of here.”
She takes a deep breath, then nods as she releases it. I bite into my bottom lip, trying to stop the pounding in my ears as I hold out for hope.
Nadya closes her eyes, bracing herself, and I watch her hands tremble as she mouths the spell.
But before she can even murmur a word, the door crashes open with a brutal crack.
Fuck!
Torbin storms in, eyes blazing, his breath fogging in the frigid air. Before either of us can react, he strikes Nadya hard with the hilt of his sabre. The sound of it—bone meeting steel—makes me flinch. She collapses like a ragdoll, crumpling to the floor with a soft gasp.
“Nadya!” I drop to my knees, but Torbin shoves me back with one arm, his boots thudding closer.
I scramble to my feet, blood roaring in my ears. He kicks the door closed, locking it with a decisive smack of the bolt. The sabre hangs at his side, but his fury is far sharper.
“You are an ungrateful wretch,” he spits. His voice is low, trembling with the effort to control himself. “I offered you everything. Power. Wealth. A fucking place beside me.”
He stomps closer, but I throw my hands out and he flies backward, his back hitting the wall. He recovers quickly, sneering at me. I faintly feel the blood seeping from my nose.
“You offered me ruin,” I snap. My chest heaves, my fists clenching. “You offered me the end of the world. You’re too deluded to see it.”
“You would’ve been queen!” His shout echoes off the stone, venomous and raw. “You would’ve been everything.”
His hand lunges, grabbing for my arm, but I twist away.
My gown catches under his grip, the sleeve tearing with an ugly sound.
The bodice strains, ripping jaggedly across my chest. I throw a punch—fingers stinging as they connect weakly with his jaw—but it does nothing to stop him.
He’s too strong. He snarls, seizing my waist. My dress rips more as he drags me closer to him. We’re face to face as he glares at me.
The door bursts open with a deafening crack.
I gasp, stumbling back as Torbin whirls around, his sabre halfway raised.
And there, framed in the doorway, breath misting in the cold, stands Dante. His falchion gleams in the low light, and the look on his face is a raging storm.
For a breathless moment, his eyes meet mine. There’s a faint flash of relief as neither of us moves.
The cold air is thick with smoke from the torches, the walls seeming to close in around us. My heart thunders against my ribs, my wrists raw where Torbin has grabbed me.
I feel Nadya shift on the floor. Thank the gods, she’s conscious! She looks between the two brothers before glancing at me. Swallowing hard, she winces, her fingers trembling as they stretch out.
“Well, if it isn’t my dear brother,” Torbin drawls, turning slightly to face Dante, keeping one hand resting possessively on the back of my chair. His eyes gleam, full of mockery. “I was wondering when you’d come crawling.”
Dante’s voice is a low, lethal growl. “Step away from her.”
Torbin chuckles. A lazy, cold sound. “Still so noble. So predictable.” His gaze flickers down to me, then back to Dante, and something dark flickers in his eyes. “You think you’re here to save her, little brother? That’s charming.”
Dante moves forward, each step deliberate. His sword glints under the weak light, the muscles in his arms flexing with restrained fury.
Nadya slowly gets to her feet to stand next to me. Blood stains her hair on the side of her head. She winces again as she sways, and I grab a hold of her arm to steady her.
“You have no idea what you’ve unleashed,” Dante says. His voice is low, but it vibrates through the room, setting every nerve in my body alight.
Nadya shifts again beside me. I feel her tug subtly at my sleeve, trying to inch us backward, little by little, toward the door.
I glance at her out of the corner of my eye and catch the tension humming in her body, the way her fingers twitch like she’s gathering something unseen.
Magic.
I keep my face carefully blank, hiding the surge of hope—and fear—that pulses through me.
Torbin only laughs. “You always were sentimental, Dante. Still desperately hanging on to scraps of loyalty. Still fighting for people who would fucking spit on you if given the chance.” His gaze sharpens. “You don’t belong with them. You belong here—with me. With us.”
Dante shakes his head once. Slowly. “You made your choice. Don’t pretend this was ever about loyalty.”
Torbin’s expression hardens, the false humor draining from his face.
“You’re weak,” he spits. “Just like our father always said. A bastard prince playing the hero. You have no idea what it means to actually have a backbone and take what you want.”
“I’ll never trade my honor for false glory,” Dante retorts, circling Torbin with measured steps.
Torbin cants his chin. “Perhaps you are a lost cause. But there’s still hope for Celeste.”
Dante scoffs. “Is that what you want? For her to be like you?”
“No. I want her to be with me.”
Dante shakes his head. “How’s that working out for you? You think you can make her love you if you fall into power? Think again, Brother.”
“Power is everything, and if you think any differently, then you’re a fool.”
Dante’s jaw tightens. The muscle ticks in his cheek.
But he doesn’t move, doesn’t lash out.
Because despite everything, he loves his brother. And I know it’s tearing him apart to confront him like this.
Torbin prowls closer to Dante, his hand straying toward the dagger at his belt. “You’re not leaving here with her. You’re not leaving at all.”
Torbin pounces, his blade swinging.
Without warning, Nadya strikes.
A sudden whoosh of heat blasts through the room as the tapestries along the far wall burst into flames. The fire spreads fast, devouring the heavy velvet, smoke billowing in thick, black coils toward the ceiling.
Torbin staggers back, cursing, shielding his eyes from the sudden blaze. The fire dances chin-high between him and Dante, trapping Torbin against the wall.
“Now!” Nadya hisses at me, grabbing my hand.
A muscle jumps in Dante’s jaw, the flicker of relief fierce and wild—but he hesitates..
“Come on!” Nadya shouts over the crackling fire, dragging me toward the door.
Dante stands frozen, staring at Torbin through the growing inferno.
Torbin stumbles against a table, coughing as smoke engulfs him, his silhouette framed by the roaring flames.
And I see it.
The war inside Dante—the grief, the fury, the heartbreak.
Torbin is his brother. Twisted, broken, monstrous. But still his brother.
Dante’s hand trembles on the hilt of his sword.
Nadya pulls harder at me, trying to get us through the doorway. The smoke is choking now, blinding.
As I back up toward the door, I pull Dante with me. “We have to go!” I shout, my throat raw. “Dante!”
He stumbles into the hall with me, but he turns his head, and his grey eyes meet mine. There’s a heartbreak in them that shatters something inside me.
“I can’t let him die,” he says hoarsely.
“Dante, don’t!”
“He’s my brother, Celeste. I can’t let him go. Not like this.”
And before I can stop him, before I can scream for him to come back, Dante plunges into the fire.
Fuck!
Flames beat at the door. A layer of smoke conceals the ceiling, thick and black, writhing like a living thing. It leaks into the hallway, advancing on me and Nadya.
I cough, my lungs burning, eyes stinging. The fire is everywhere, devouring the wood, the stone, the air itself.
Dante is barely a silhouette ahead of me, his body carving a path through the inferno. He throws his arm up to shield his face, trying to reach Torbin, who stumbles, half-choking, deeper inside the collapsing room.
He won’t make it.
Oh, gods!
A raw, desperate instinct rises in me—something deeper than fear, deeper than reason.
I thrust my hand forward, feeling the power coiling inside me, reckless and volatile. I barely think. I just will it forward, shoving the flames aside, parting them with a surge of force that tears at my skull.
Pain explodes behind my eyes, bright and sharp, but I push harder, carving a clear path through the searing heat.
“Dante!” I scream through the roaring fire. “Go!”
Through the opening I’ve made, Dante lunges, grabbing Torbin’s arm and hauling him up just before a flaming beam crashes where Torbin was just standing.
Dante staggers, smoke curling around him like a shroud, but he keeps going, dragging his brother through the gap, toward us, toward freedom.
The fire snaps at their heels, furious and wild, but Dante doesn’t slow.
He bursts through the doorway, coughing, Torbin slumped half-conscious in his arms.
I let the magic fall away, leaning against Nadya, my body trembling, blood trickling from my nose.
For one glorious, aching moment, we’re free.
Until the Dulcamaran guards swarm from the shadows.
Steel flashes. Rough hands grab us. Soldiers throw water on the fire.
A shout splits the air, boots thundering across the stone floor. Dante drops Torbin in a defensive stance, his blade flashing up, but there are too many.
I twist, elbowing a guard in the ribs, but another grabs my arm, yanking it behind me. Nadya screams, kicking at the men dragging her back.
Dante’s hand goes immediately for his falchion, eyes widening when he doesn’t find it at his side. He whips his head toward the guards and releases a humming sound but stops immediately, wincing and reaching for his throat.
It’s then that Torbin staggers to his feet.
For a heartbeat, I think he’ll say something. Thank you, maybe. Some flicker of remorse. Some acknowledgment that Dante just pulled him from the fire.
Instead—his lips twist into a cruel smile. “Maybe that will shut you up, Brother.”
I stare in disbelief at Dante’s neck. The gleam of the enchanted collar bites into his skin, its pendant glimmering from the light of the dying flames.
My breath lodges in my throat, the world tilting as the truth claws at me: while Dante was pulling Torbin from the fire, while he was saving his life, Torbin slipped the shackle onto him.
Dante claws at the collar, but it doesn’t budge.
Torbin squares his shoulders. “Take them to the dungeon,” he rasps, voice thick with smoke and venom.
My blood ices. “What?”
Dante goes rigid.
Torbin just laughs—a wet, ugly sound. His face is soot-smeared, his clothes singed, but the hatred in his eyes is untouched.
“You didn’t think saving me would change anything, did you?” He sneers, lifting Dante’s falchion and gazing upon it as if it were a newly acquired treasure. “You’re a fool, Brother.”
The betrayal slices through the air, as jagged and cruel as any blade. He didn’t just bind Dante’s power, he bound his trust, twisting his mercy into a weapon against him.
I see it—see it in the way Dante stares at him, as if Torbin’s words gut him deeper than any wound.
Torbin turns, grabbing Nadya roughly by the arm. She lets out a startled gasp, struggling, but he clamps a hand tightly around her wrist. “She’s coming with me,” he growls. “Can’t have you getting any bright ideas.”
Dante lunges forward, fury breaking through the soot and blood marking him. “Get your hands off her!”
A guard slams an elbow into his ribs. Dante folds with a grunt, falling to one knee. My own cry tears free as I reach for him, but hands clamp around my arms, yanking me back.
“Don’t!” I shout. “Let her go!”
Torbin doesn’t look back. He drags Nadya down the corridor, her feet slipping on the blackened stone, her wide eyes meeting mine one last time before they vanish around the corner.
The ache in my chest expands, sharp and hot. Dante and I are pulled away.
We’re taken through narrow halls, the smell of ash and smoke lingering. My muscles scream with each step, exhaustion dragging at my limbs, but I don’t stop. I can’t. Not while Nadya’s still in Torbin’s grip.
Not while I’m being dragged toward gods-know-what.