CHAPTER TEN
THE MANACLES AROUND MY WRISTS burn with every movement.
The iron is heavy and has rubbed them raw, but it’s worth it if it means keeping Rav and everyone else safe.
Who knows what my bastard father wanted me to do?
Would I go crawling back to him after completing his task?
Would I be swept fully under the magick of the stone?
If I killed her, I would most likely let myself.
I shake my head. No. I won’t let it come to that. I’ll stay chained up down here forever if I have to. I’d die first.
Ravina hasn’t been down here to see me since she arrived back here—I’m sure Killian is to thank for that—but I have received visits from the others, either keeping me company or updating me on minor things.
Things I know wouldn’t affect the outcome of the war if I managed to escape and make it back to my father.
Who knows what details I’d betray? I feel like an unwilling traitor, trapped in my own mind.
I’m glad for their companionship, but for now it would be best if they would just let me rot down here.
They’re wasting their precious time with me.
Especially now that things have changed—thankfully they haven’t mentioned what, because it isn’t safe for me to know no matter how my heart aches to; but I sense a difference in them, as if they’re more confident of late.
Whatever it is, it must be good, and they should be devoting all their time to it.
The sound of boots from the outer hall reaches my ears, echoing off the stone floor. “Fuck off! I’m not in the mood to see anyone,” I yell, but the marching continues.
“Seriously, fuck off. I’m not safe for anyone to be around me. I don’t want to see you, Aemon, Killian, whoever!”
The door opens and my heart races as reddish-brown loose curls and sapphire blue eyes enter my vision. My mate is in my cell. “Not even me?” she asks with a smirk.
“Especially you,” I growl, but it lacks my signature asshole-ish tone. It’s almost as if I want her close to me, even though heartbeats ago I wanted her as far away as possible.
No.
No.
No.
“GO AWAY!” I want to scream but it doesn’t leave my lips.
Instead I smirk. “I thought you were never going to come see me. I’ve missed you, Princess.
” Flashes of my hands around her throat, her gasping for air, her eyes turning red and swollen as she struggles to find air.
I’m screaming but no one can hear. Killian needs to get her out.
These urges were barely noticeable at first, but I suppose the longer I stay away, it builds and builds before… before—
“I can fix you,” she says, taking a step closer.
Killian growls. “This is a bad fucking idea. I have a bad feeling about this. We should sedate him or something.”
She shakes her head. “No, I need him awake. They made that very clear when they showed me how to do it the first time.”
Can she stop this? These thoughts of her death at my hands? Now that she’s in front of me, they’re no longer contained to my dreams. All I can see is the goal.
Kill.
Kill.
Kill.
Kill, and then go back home and ready myself for the next stage in his plans.
My chains scrape along the floor as I rise to my feet. “You can help me with anything you want. Why don’t you come a little closer. I feel like I haven’t seen my mate in ages.”
Her brows rise in disbelief and some part of me loves it, but this new part, this new me, wants to hurt her for that show of disobedience, to show my master that he can rely on me to follow orders.
Killian steps in front of her, his back toward me. “You expect me to let you into the arms of a male who’s only goal is to kill you?” he snaps.
“Yes. That’s exactly what I expect you to do.” Her voice holds no room for argument but that doesn’t stop him.
He leans down, still towering over her. “I can’t see you get hurt again. I won’t. You were already taken from me once. You were dead! This is just plain stupidity.”
She places her hand over his chest. “I have you, Aemon, Jesper and Nero here. Nothing will happen that you four can’t stop. Nero can heal anything small, and I only need a few moments to do this. Plus he won’t be able to put his hands on me, unless you and Aemon let go of his arms.”
Aemon steps out of the shadows. “We won’t let harm come to our mate. We can’t stop her from doing this either, and she has every right to save her mate. Compromise, brother. Talyn is one of us.”
He snarls, spinning toward me. “If you hurt her, oldest friend or not, I will tear you limb from limb,” he snaps before pinning both my arms behind my back.
I hiss as the chains pull, digging deeper into the damaged flesh. “She’s mine to end,” I murmur, my voice sounding much unlike my own.
His grip tightens and Aemon’s shadows bind themselves around my chest.
Even as my oldest friends contain me and I should be fighting, I can’t keep my eyes off the beauty in front of me. The beauty whose blood I will wash my hands with.
She eyes me, determined and ready for whatever she’s about to do. But she will fail—there’s nothing in this realm that can save my mind from deteriorating into chaos.
Nero nuzzles her cheek and soars off her shoulder to land on the ground away from the rest of us.
After a beat of silence she slowly walks towards me, each step with a purpose. Each step closer to my goal. I jerk my torso, testing the strength of their grip on me. It’s strong, but I’m sure I can break loose.
She slices her hand open and the splat, splat, splat of her blood hitting the stone is like a delicious taste of what’s to come.
“I can’t wait to spill your blood across the floor and make your mates watch as the light drains from your gorgeous eyes.
Too bad if you die, your precious bird won’t be able to add them as the crowning jewels of his sick little collection, because he will be dead too.
” I ramble on, spitting vile that makes my stomach burn and my heart ache, but it won’t stop.
And she doesn’t stop.
When she’s standing directly in front of me I lash out, fighting against the hold they have on me.
“Jesper, I need it now!” She yells to the male across the room who rushes towards her and hands her a necklace with a red stone inside. She slams it against my forehead before covering it with her bloodied palm.
She closes her eyes and the stone begins to heat up before my vision goes dark. Memories of my father and a much larger red stone—the Soul Stone—surface.
“He’s beginning to wake up,” my father snaps. “Get me the vial of blood now!”
I can’t see who he’s talking to, but whispers and hurried steps float in the background.
It’s a moment later that I’m struggling to open my eyes, and I feel an ice-cold stone resting on top of my forehead before a thick liquid runs down my face.
I try to move but I can’t. I’m shackled to the bed and my limbs are so heavy.
Have I been drugged? Is this just a bad dream?
The stone warms and I want to scream as it feels like acid is being poured into my veins. Unnatural. Unbalanced. Unjust. Something isn’t right.
My father’s lips brush my ear and he whispers so low I barely catch the words.
“Find the rider of the purple beast; befriend her. Get her to trust you and bring her to the mountains. If you betray me, your mind will become like all the others under my rule. You will be nothing but a disgrace, a mindless servant. You will kill all those that you love, starting with that bitch. You will learn what it’s like to be betrayed by your closest friends.
You will kill them all if you don’t do as I say.
You will remember everything as her blood coats your skin. ”
His words seep into me like a poison. Sitting, coiled, waiting to strike when the moment is right. The screams don’t stop as his poison seeps into every crevasse in my body.
But then, relief—the acid clears and is replaced with a soothing balm, repairing all the damage the acid has caused. Every second that passes is like a breath of fresh air, and I collapse but my body doesn’t hit the ground. The balm pulls away and the voices are gone.
And gone are the thoughts of her death.