Chapter 36 #2
“Kiran has called a parley,” Imani ground out. “Every faction is above us right now—Essenheim, Niflheim, all of them. He’s holding you here while he plays king in front of them.”
Saevel froze. “Above us?”
Meira stayed near, embracing him tightly. She breathed against his neck, her nose brushing his skin in a comforting gesture. He visibly shivered despite his restraints.
“Yes, we’re in Zorah right now,” Imani continued.
“And if we’re not back before it begins, Kiran will know something’s wrong.
We had less than an hour when we came down here.
” She glanced toward the exit. “That gives us roughly twenty minutes to break these chains, get back through the vaults, and put you in that Throne room before the parley starts.”
As the truth sank in, his expression transformed from disbelief to understanding. His hand didn’t leave Meira, fingers moving against her back in a slow rhythm, as if he could anchor himself through her, as if he could hold on to her even as everything else shifted.
A groan built in his throat, teeth gritted as he pulled against the chains.
The metal strained as his muscles surged against it, magic reacting in errant bursts around him as his anger rose with it.
Meira moved with him instantly, her body instinctively responding, staying near and not letting go.
“Let it out,” she whispered, her hand pressing firmer on his jaw. “I’m right here. I feel it with you.”
“He put me here,” Saevel nearly screamed. His head turned slightly as he took in the throne beneath him. “On this throne.”
Imani looked at the chains again, then to the marks they had left across his body. “How long have you been down here?”
Saevel rattled the chains as he repositioned himself on the throne. “Since Kiran attacked the palace.”
Her stomach turned. “Months?”
“Months.” His hand flexed against the restraint around his wrist. The repeated tracks outside the palace made sense now. Those guards had worn the same route into the dust twice a day for months.
Imani looked over the throne, the chains, and the empty chamber around him with growing disgust. “How are you even alive?”
“Guards come twice a day,” Saevel said. “They bring food and water. They clean me, deal with whatever else needs dealing with, check the restraints, then leave.” His eyes hardened. “Kiran wanted me imprisoned, not dead. A corpse would have been easier.”
Fury overtook the tenderness on Meira’s face moments earlier. Her hand closed tighter around Saevel’s arm.
Saevel pressed his forehead to Meira’s, as though he needed the touch to keep his rage from consuming him.
With a screech, the chains strained under his pull, his magic signature exploding outward as their bodies slammed against the restraints.
“I’m not afraid of him,” Meira whispered.
“Not when I have you. Not when you’re mine. ”
Her hands gripped his face and jaw, preventing him from looking away as Meira contained his rage. He breathed laboriously and irregularly while his body strained against the chains.
“Stay with me,” she said, her finger trailing down his bearded cheeks.
“I’m here. You don’t lose to him like this down here.
Not now.” The fury in his eyes remained as he looked at her, but her touch tamed it, redirecting it into something manageable instead of something that might explode.
His hand moved to her wrist, careful despite the urgency, seeming to ground himself.
“I’ve got you,” she added, louder now. “We do this together.”
“You shouldn’t be this close, sweetheart,” he rasped, his voice breaking as his hand slid from her wrist to her cheek, his thumb brushing over her skin with care.
“You’re too beautiful for this. Too good for what I plan to do once I’m free.
” He swallowed hard, his breath still uneven as he held her there. “I don’t deserve you.”
She didn’t pull away.
“I choose you,” she said, brows furrowing in determination.
At that, something inside him changed again, and his grip relaxed slightly as he leaned into her touch, finding a bit of control in her nearness. “Stay with me,” he murmured, softer now, their foreheads still pressed together.
Meira pulled back just enough to move, her wand already in hand as she turned toward the chains, her attention snapping to the restraints with new purpose. Saevel followed instantly, his posture tensing, ready to act the second he was free.
Imani had allowed Meira to carry a wand again before they entered Zorah, though the decision had nothing to do with trust. They were walking into hostile territory where an unarmed witch would become a liability to everyone around her.
The wand restored Meira’s ability to defend herself and contribute ordinary magic without returning the power Imani feared most.
She had also made the terms clear. Meira could carry it while they hunted Saevel and confronted Kiran. If she turned that wand against Imani, Esa, Lore, or anyone under Essenheim’s protection, she would lose it again before she could regret the choice.
Meira had accepted without argument.
Looking around the room, Imani estimated the time again. They had already spent several more minutes talking and assessing the restraints. At best, less than twenty minutes remained, and the climb back through Zorah would consume most of them. She motioned for everyone to take care of the chains.
The rest of the group lifted their wands and began murmuring incantations to break the warded chains wrapped tight around Saevel’s arms, legs, waist, and neck.
Magic pressed into the chains and locks, and Saevel grunted as he struggled against their tight hold, his form flickering between man and bear as he fought the metal.
One by one, the iron began to rip apart, cracking under the pressure until the last lock finally broke under their combined force, metal splitting with a sharp crack that cut through the chamber. The echoing screech filled the cavernous space.
A roar tore out of Saevel the instant he began to release himself, deep and consuming, raising the hair along Imani’s neck as the sound carried through stone and bone alike.
A tangible wave of magic began to burst from his signature, revitalizing him and anchoring him as he straightened, the restraints falling away with a loud clang.
The instant the final restraint fell, Saevel’s magic changed.
An angry haze that had churned around him for months compressed toward his body, then burst outward in a concentrated wave.
Pressure struck Imani across the chest and sent cold air racing over her skin as the chamber air thickened around him.
His signature no longer leaked from him in uneven bursts or battered uselessly against the chains.
Dust lifted from the stone, Meira’s hair stirred away from her face, and the remnants of broken iron trembled where they had fallen.
He rose to his feet, testing the ground and rolling his shoulders as his strength returned, no longer bound to the carved, imposing throne behind him. As he stood panting and stretching his muscles, Imani knew Saevel would have been a king with or without a throne.
In the next breath, Saevel rounded on Imani and forced her back against the wall.
“You’re his,” Saevel snarled. “You’re Kiran’s heartmate.”
His hatred cast a heavy silence between them, but Imani glared back, chin lifted. She wouldn’t be ashamed to be Kiran’s heartmate. They certainly belonged to each other, black hearts and all.
“I am. Yet I’m here now with you and not with him. So do with that knowledge what you will.”
Saevel balled his fists. As he looked toward the throne room doors, Imani let out a small sigh of relief, sensing him bending to her desperate desire.
“Fine,” he muttered. “Take me to my fucking brother.”