CHAPTER 24
TOWERS AND CHAINS
All persons detained pending trial shall be treated with dignity regardless of the nature of their alleged offence.
– Vallennan Detention Code, Article III
It had been more than a day of travelling when Sebastian felt the carriage cross the final bridge into Thorne Keep.
They hadn’t stopped, hadn’t let him out once.
Through the iron bars he could see the tower he knew so well – it loomed above him – all dark stone and faceless windows.
The crimson and black banners of Thorne streamed from the battlements, the dagger wrapped in thorns stark against the red.
Not long ago, when he’d returned home from the Isles, he’d felt pride when he looked at them. Now they mocked him.
Sebastian had stayed on his knees, but his body was in agony. His bound wrists were throbbing. Pain seared through his shoulder where he’d slammed it into the door, over and over. He’d known it wouldn’t break before he did. But he couldn’t stop.
Voices sounded from outside.
“Lord Thorne said the tower,” one said.
“He deserves the dungeon. That’s what she’ll be getting.”
Kara.
The voices drew closer. He braced – ready to attack. When the doors swung open, he surged forward, his muscles screaming, blood roaring in his ears. Four soldiers were on him in an instant.
“Don’t–” he snarled, twisting away, but the ropes bit deeper into his wrists, and a knee drove into his ribs. Agony ripped through his side. He choked back a cry.
“Get him out.”
They hauled him bodily from the carriage, his knees scraping against the rough stone courtyard.
“Walk,” one of the guards barked.
Sebastian didn’t.
Fuck you.
Instead, he threw all his weight into one shoulder, forcing a soldier off balance. For one second, he was free – until a crimson-lit fist caught him across the face. Pain exploded as blood streamed from his nose.
Doesn’t matter. Keep fighting.
But before he could recover, they struck him again, another knee to the gut. He dropped. He couldn’t breathe; bile rose in his throat and he coughed hard.
“This is how House Thorne treats its own?” he spat venomously.
“You’re not one of ours anymore, traitor,” one snapped. There were hands on his shoulders, his elbows – dragging him upright.
“Careful,” another cautioned, “the captain wouldn’t approve – he’s still the Lord’s son.”
“That stopped mattering the second he spilled Thorne blood,” the soldier on his left retorted.
Even through Sebastian’s anger, the words jolted inside him.
I killed my own men.
He couldn’t think about that right now. Guilt could come later. With a shove, they marched him towards the main doors.
I’m not going to make it fucking easy for you.
Sebastian dropped his weight, dug his feet into the ground, twisted and writhed.
But without his magic, he was weak. Weaker than the men holding him, their crimson flaring.
The heat of their magic flared against his arms, and their grip became steel.
They passed the main hall. Servants averted their eyes.
A steward flinched when he caught him staring – shame, maybe. Or fear.
This had been his home. Now it was his prison.
He was panting by the time they reached the tower stairs. Every breath sent a stabbing pain through his side. They’d broken his ribs, he was sure of it. But he still made them work and struggle for every step.
“Stop fighting, Thorne,” one of them huffed as they climbed.
Never. Not whilst you have Kara.
He saw it then – the oak door of the tower cell, the metal bolts that would imprison him – and something in him snapped.
He hurled himself sideways. No plan, just pure fury.
Sebastian crashed hard into one of the guards and they fell together into the stone wall.
The impact reverberated through his whole body.
But another guard tackled him from the side–
No, fuck–
He collided with the opposite wall; another elbowed him in the face and stars exploded across his vision.
He didn’t stop.
Even as they shoved him to his knees, Sebastian kept fighting.
Even as the door creaked open.
Even as they dragged him inside and threw him to the ground.
His cheek struck the stone floor. Blood dripped from his lip. He tried to rise – just in time to see the door slam behind him.
The bolt thundered shut.
He looked around the stone room – a bare bed, chamber pot, and a table with a water jug. Cold air blew through the open window. Only one thought screamed through his mind.
I have to get out. Get to Kara.
Somehow.
The next day, Kara saw the gates of Vallenna City rise tall and pale against the clear autumn sky, the sun lowering as the afternoon wore on – the flags of the High Houses fluttering in the wind.
The City lights shimmered just beyond them.
When had she last made this ride? Four weeks ago? Not even? For the Arcalon.
It seemed like a lifetime ago.
She remembered wishing she wouldn’t be put on Sebastian’s team. What a foolish worry that seemed now.
The valmare’s hooves clattered on stone as they crossed into the capital.
Her wrists had started to bleed and she was stiff and sore – Cade hadn’t let her move an inch.
He hadn’t let up during the two endless days of riding.
Despite his captain’s orders, he’d kept needling, tormenting, laughing at her.
It had been hell. They’d stopped once – for the valmares, not her.
Cade had shoved Kara down at the base of a tree, far away from the fire and the other soldiers.
“Can’t have you getting free in the night, can we?” he’d sneered, tying her chest to its trunk tighter than necessary.
Although she’d been left alone, she hadn’t slept. How could she? Her thoughts spiralled as she sat there, trembling with cold, until Captain Markus had appeared without a word and draped a blanket over her shoulders. A small mercy.
As the valmare slowed beside the Hall of Justice, Kara felt a tiny glimmer of relief. The cell awaiting her would be an improvement. The pressure of Cade’s arms would be gone. His breath. His words. He couldn’t follow her into her trial.
Markus barked an order from the front.
“Sergeant Sarren. Take the prisoner below.”
“Gladly,” Cade’s voice came from behind her.
Kara’s heart sank.
No, please, anyone but him.
He dismounted, smirking, and untied the rope that bound her to the saddle so it hung down from her wrists.
He seized her by the waist and pulled her roughly from the valmare, fingers biting into her skin.
She thought he’d take her arm. But no. He took the rope that trailed from her wrists and yanked it so hard that Kara stumbled, her ankle twisting underneath her.
She gasped in pain, but didn’t cry out. She wouldn’t give him that.
“Come along, Healer,” he said smoothly, grinning. “Make sure you keep up.”
He turned and strode ahead, dragging her casually behind him.
Faces turned as they passed. People pointed, whispered.
Kara’s face burned red-hot, and she dropped her gaze to the floor.
The stairs that led to the cells were off the courtyard of the Hall of Justice.
Past the platform where the pyres were built.
Her body shook at the sight of it. The condemned never had far to walk.
Cade just looked back at her and smiled.
When they reached the dungeon corridor, a blast of ice-cold air hit her.
She shivered violently. He jerked the rope hard, forcing her into a half-run, which made her ankle throb.
They stopped outside the last cell on the right – it was completely empty.
No bed. Only barred windows and stone walls.
So this is where I’m spending my last few days.
He dragged her towards an iron rung fastened halfway up the wall.
“On your knees,” he ordered.
Absolutely not.
She didn’t move. Just stared at him. Her defiance was all she had left.
“You’ll learn to do what I say,” he said conversationally. “I’m going to make it more uncomfortable now. Make sure the lesson sinks in.”
He pushed her to the floor, knees hitting the cold stone with another jolt of pain. He wrenched her arms mercilessly over her head. Pulled them so tight her shoulders screamed.
Don’t let him see. Don’t give him anything.
He watched her face with interest as he tied the rope to the rung. He was deliberate. Careful. He pulled the last knot tight with a satisfied smile – stepping back to admire his handiwork.
“Oh, Healer, you do look good like this.” He grinned. “Maybe I’ll pay you a visit before they burn you.”
The look in his eyes scared her more than any pyre.
“He was,” she said suddenly.
The gleeful look on his face slid to confusion. The smirk faltered.
“What?” he sneered.
“Worth it. Sebastian was worth it,” she said shakily.
He laughed as he left the cell, slamming the door shut behind him.
Hours later, well after nightfall, footsteps sounded in the corridor.
Kara’s eyes opened – she hadn’t expected anyone until morning – least of all him.
Alaric Hale stood outside the bars, his cloak pulled tightly around him, torchlight flickering over his face.
He was paler than usual, the lines around his face deeper, more pronounced.
He looked much older than he had a week ago.
The guard unlocked the door; her father stepped inside. “Five minutes,” the man muttered before retreating to the far wall.
“I’ll take as long as I–” her father began, but then he took in the scene, the nightshade, the extra rope pinning her arms above her.
“What the hell is this?” he yelled to the guard. The Thorne soldier looked at him, puzzled. “Why is my daughter tied to the damn wall?”
The soldier stuttered incoherently. “Untie her. Now,” Alaric ordered. “She is a lady of House Hale, not yet tried. You will show her respect.”