Chapter 54
Iwoke to the sound of murmuring in the dark. The cold stone beneath me bit into my skin, the dull ache in my body a stark reminder of where I was. Captivity. Nyxaria.
I shifted, my limbs stiff, my body aching from the beating. But it was my leg that was the worst. Even the smallest movement sent a fresh wave of searing, nauseating agony tearing through the broken bone, the fragile healing tissue screaming in protest. I refused to let it show.
The others were speaking in hushed tones, their voices carrying through the cell, laced with exhaustion and quiet frustration.
“Morva and Aesrielle must be working on something,” Brynelle was saying. “They won’t leave us here.”
Darian let out a dry, humourless laugh. “They can try all they want, but what the hell could they possibly offer in exchange for a gods-damned High Lord? Let alone half his court?”
A bitter silence followed, settling over us with a suffocating weight. No one had an answer.
I blinked away the last remnants of sleep. How long had I been out? Hours? A full day? Time bled together in this place.
Before I could ask, before I could sit up, the cell door swung open with a deafening clang.
Everything stilled.
We knew what came next.
Guards stormed in, moving with precise brutality, their boots scraping against the stone. Darian snarled as rough hands wrenched him upward.
Shaelith fought, but there was only so much resistance she could give in chains. They dragged her up anyway.
They hauled me to my feet next.
Agony exploded through my leg.
A shockwave of searing, unbearable pain radiated from the break, shooting up my thigh, sending fire curling up my spine. My breath caught violently in my throat, black spots bursting in my vision.
But I didn’t make a sound.
The moment their hands closed around me, Varyth moved.
His snarl ripped through the chamber, feral, raw, dangerous, his body already lunging toward me despite the collar choking his power.
One of the guards nearest me flinched before kicking out with brutal precision.
The impact was sickening.
A loud crack. Varyth jerked backward, blood spraying from his nose, his head snapping to the side from the force of the blow.
I cried out, struggling against the hands dragging me away, but the guards were already hauling me toward the doorway, forcing me to walk—forcing me to put weight on my shattered leg.
A fresh wave of suffocating, black-out pain roared through my entire body.
I bit down so hard on my tongue I tasted blood.
Varyth shook his head, blinking past the pain, his expression wild with fury. “Don’t,” he snarled, a command to stop fighting.
But I wasn’t fighting anymore.
I was being dragged.
And every step was hell.
Every step sent another blinding flare of pain through my leg, every movement grinding bone against bone, raw and splintered. My body shook violently, but I refused to stumble, refused to give them the satisfaction of hearing me scream.
I locked my jaw, swallowing the bile rising in my throat. They would not see me break.
We were shoved to our knees, the cool marble biting into my ruined leg, sending another wave of fresh, burning agony through my entire body.
Beside me, Shaelith was gasping, her body trembling from the impact.
Darian was silent. But rigid. So rigid his whole body looked carved from stone. His jaw locked tight, his hands clenched into fists, his wings twitching violently as he glared up at the woman standing before us.
Xyliria.
Her onyx eyes gleamed with sick amusement, her posture loose, relaxed. Unbothered. We were nothing more than a game.
“One of them has to suffer,” she said, idly twirling a dagger between her fingers before levelling it at Darian. “So choose.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked, his expression burning with the same defiance that had never left him.
“No,” Darian said flatly.
Xyliria sighed, shaking her head, disappointed. “Always so difficult.”
Her fingers twitched—
And fire ripped through my blood. I arched back involuntarily, a raw scream tearing from my throat before I could bite it back. It was every nerve igniting at once, my blood was boiling under my skin.
The agony overrode everything.
Shaelith choked beside me, gasping, her body bowing under the invisible weight of Xyliria’s magic.
Still, Darian didn’t move.
“Choose,” Xyliria commanded again, bored, amused.
Darian lifted his chin, breath ragged, furious. “Fuck you.”
Xyliria tutted, a snap of her wrist sending another pulse of power through us.
Shaelith let out a choked cry, her fingers digging into the stone. I bit down hard on my lip, tasting blood, trying not to scream again.
But Darian—he was shaking now, trembling with restraint, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white.
“You can end it,” Xyliria cooed. “Just say a name.”
Darian snarled, breathing heavily.
And he laughed. Low, dark, humourless.
“Kill me,” he said. “I don’t fucking care. But I won’t be a pawn in your sick little games.”
Xyliria sighed, flicking invisible dust from her fingers.
Then, she turned her head, her smile widening. “Husband.”
I caught the flinch that crossed Ashterion’s face before his shadows struck.
Darian let out a guttural roar, his body slamming to the floor as tendrils of pure darkness wrapped around him, pinning him in place as they sank into flesh and muscle.
Shaelith screamed his name. I lunged toward him, but the guards grabbed me, yanking me back.
Darian thrashed violently, his body arching as if he were being ripped apart.
“STOP.” I screamed, fighting against the iron grip of the guards.
Shaelith struggled wildly, tears streaking her face as she yelled, “Please—please, stop!”
Ashterion’s expression was blank, his attention fixed somewhere above us. But I saw the way his fingers curled into fists, the way his shoulders tensed.
Xyliria watched him for a moment.
“Better.” She nodded. “Much better.”
With a simple flick of her wrist, Xyliria commanded Ashterion to halt. The shadows vanished instantly.
Darian collapsed to the floor, his body trembling violently, a raw, ragged groan tearing from his lips. Blood pooled beneath him, dark and glistening, the remnants of the shadows’ torment carved into his skin.
Xyliria descended the dais with effortless grace, her features lit with sadistic delight as she twirled a slender blade between her fingers. The edge caught the light, glinting with promise.
Her boots clicked against the marble as she closed the space between us.
“You need a reminder,” she purred, crouching in front of us. “A lesson. One that’s permanent. So Darian doesn’t forget the cost of his defiance.”
Darian let out a weak growl, his body too wrecked from the attack to do anything more than lift his head. “Go to hell.”
Xyliria chuckled, reaching out with unnerving tenderness, brushing a hand down my cheek.
Shaelith’s breath came rough, pained, but her voice remained steady when she spoke. “What do you want?”
Xyliria’s gaze flicked upward to where Ashterion stood motionless. “Shield the others.”
I blinked. Shield?
Before I could even piece it together, Shaelith let out a furious, wordless snarl. And then they vanished.
Shaelith and Darian disappeared behind a sudden wall of shadow—smooth and impenetrable, cutting them off completely from view. I lunged again, panic surging, but there was nothing to reach for. Nothing to fight.
Just me.
Me and Xyliria.
She turned her attention back to me with all the slow, poisonous focus of a viper curling for the strike.
“What I want,” she said sweetly, crouching in front of me again. “Is simple. Your friends. Even your precious High Lord. They can walk free at any time.”
My chest rose and fell in ragged gasps. Blood pounded in my ears. I didn’t dare speak, didn’t trust myself not to scream.
“You stay,” she continued. “You serve me. You bend that fire to my will—and they all go free.”
I stared at her. A flicker of disbelief passed through me. Then fury. “Bullshit,” I spat. “You don’t just want me. You want control of Luceren.”
“I said they’ll be allowed to leave,” she replied. “I never said they’d have peace. But freedom? A chance at it?” She tilted her head. “Not much of one. But better than nothing, right?”
My hands curled into fists, nails biting into my palms.
“No,” I said, each syllable carved in steel. “You’ll have to do better than that.”
Xyliria’s smile didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened. “I thought so,” she murmured, straightening to her full height. “I’ll ask again soon.”
I spat at her feet. “Fuck you. You and your pathetic, leashed little lord.”
A dangerous shadow passed over Ashterion’s features, but he didn’t react.
Xyliria, however, smiled as she slashed.
Fire erupted across my face, a searing line from my cheekbone to my jaw. The force of the strike whipped my head to the side, my vision bursting white with pain.
A slow trickle of warm blood dripped from the wound, sliding down my neck. I swayed, refusing to make a sound.
Xyliria examined her work, lips curving with satisfaction.
“Oh, that will scar,” she said, pleased. “How fitting.”
The moment she stepped away from me, the wall of shadows dissipated.
Shaelith and Darian snapped back into view.
Shaelith was on her knees, her arm thrown across Darian’s trembling body as if she could shield him from something she couldn’t see.
Her eyes darted wildly until they locked on me.
Relief warred with fury in her expression.
Darian was conscious, barely. Blood slicked his arms, his back, pooling beneath him in dark, gleaming smears. He twitched once, a raw sound escaping his throat, but he was alive.
Ashterion finally spoke, with a smooth, silken drawl. “I do love watching you work.” His midnight gaze drifted lazily over Xyliria, his expression one of almost indulgent amusement.
A chill slithered down my spine. I had assumed he was her weapon, her pet, her monster on a leash. But now—I wasn’t sure.
Xyliria’s smirk deepened, unsurprised by his praise. And perhaps, it wasn’t praise, but an understanding.
Ashterion sighed as though even acknowledging me was beneath him. “You mistake my appreciation for a leash.”
Slow, quiet dread coiled in my chest.
“But if you wish for me to prove my capability for harm,” he was still calm, still terrifying, “I’m happy to oblige.”
I bared my teeth, ignoring the sting in my cheek. “You’re nothing but her dog.”
His expression shifted. Shadows slammed into me. Pain erupted like a thousand knives sinking into my skin. A strangled gasp escaped my lips as dark tendrils coiled around my limbs, my ribs, crushing, suffocating.
And then—a whisper.
Soft, curling beneath the pain, threading through the black tendrils constricting my throat. “Stop. She will kill them if you don’t.”
I stilled. My mind reeled, but my body froze instinctively, muscles locking beneath the weight of the shadows.
The words had been a breath against my ear. Not Xyliria’s.
His.
I forced myself to stay still, forced my jaw to unclench even as the pain pulsed beneath my skin.
Xyliria’s laughter rang out. “Oh, look at her squirm. Perhaps you’re not as tame as I thought, husband.”
Ashterion’s expression remained impassive, but the shadows loosened enough for me to draw a ragged breath.
“Shall I continue?” he asked, his voice a low purr.
Xyliria waved a hand dismissively. “No, I think that’s enough for now. We wouldn’t want to break our new toys too quickly.”
The shadows receded instantly, leaving me gasping and shaking on the marble floor. I knew Shaelith’s desperate gaze was on me, could hear Darian’s laboured breathing nearby, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at them.
“Take them back to their cell,” Xyliria commanded.
As the guards hauled us to our feet, I glanced up at Ashterion. His midnight eyes held mine long enough for the moment to tighten, and I saw a breath of something behind his mask. Regret? Determination? I had no fucking idea.
The guards dragged us back through the winding corridors, their grips bruising as they shoved us forward.
My leg screamed in protest with every step, the fresh cut on my face throbbing in time with my pulse.
Beside me, Shaelith stumbled, her breath coming in pained gasps.
Darian was barely conscious, his body limp between two guards, leaving a trail of blood in our wake.
When we reached the cell, the guards threw us inside, and I hit the cold stone hard. Varyth was on his feet in an instant, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he moved toward us. The guards tensed, hands going to their weapons, but Varyth ignored them.
“Isara,” he breathed, dropping to his knees beside me. His hands hovered over my body, afraid to touch me. “What did they do to you?”
I tried to speak, but my throat was raw from screaming. Instead, I shook my head, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill.
“I’ll kill them,” he snarled, low and dangerous. “I’ll tear them apart with my bare hands.”
“This is your fault,” one of the guards sneered, kicking Darian’s prone form. “Your defiance has consequences, High Lord.”
They slammed the cell door shut, leaving us in oppressive darkness once more. For a moment, the only sounds were our ragged breathing and the fading echo of metal on stone.
“Varyth,” Shaelith rasped from where she lay crumpled nearby. “Darian... he needs help.”
Varyth’s gaze darted between me and Darian’s motionless form. For a heartbeat, indecision flickered across his face. Then he moved, swift and purposeful, to Darian’s side.
“Brynelle,” he commanded, “help me turn him.”
Together, they rolled Darian onto his back. In the dim light filtering through the cell’s small window, I could see the extent of the damage.
Varyth’s eyes swept over Darian’s body, his jaw tight as he studied the jagged wounds that crisscrossed his chest, his arms, his ribs. Some were bleeding, red seeping into his already torn clothing, pooling onto the stone beneath him.
Fenric’s voice was shaky, uncertain. “Is he going to…?”
Varyth shook his head immediately. “No.” The word was firm, absolute. “They’re shallow. They won’t kill him.”
But he didn’t sound relieved.
His hands hovered over the wounds, his fingers twitching as if he could will his power back into existence, force the magic-suppressing collar to break, to mend what had been done.
Shaelith released a shaking breath, her grief and exhaustion visible in the way her shoulders slumped. “But without anything to treat them, with his magic suppressed…”
“He’s going to be in a lot of pain,” Varyth finished, rougher than stone.
A soft, ragged groan escaped Darian.
A sound like agreement.
There was nothing we could do. No bandages. No magic. No way to make it better. I swallowed hard, my throat raw, my mind reeling.
Without thinking, I reached for Darian’s hand, threading my fingers through his. His grip was weak, but when his thumb twitched against mine, I knew he was with us.