Chapter 5

I lost track of time in the darkness, it could have been three days, or just one endless night. Iron cuffs shackled my wrists, and rings bound my ankles, a short chain linking them so I was forced to stoop like an animal. The darkness wasn’t just an absence of light; it had a weight that pressed down on me, gnawing at my sanity. Time seemed to stretch, punctuated only by the slow, steady drip of water that mimicked a heartbeat.

With nothing left to occupy my mind, I succumbed to a singular, consuming thought: I hated him. 

I dissected that hatred, piece by piece. I remembered the chilling calm of his voice when he ordered, “Chain her.” The ink that smeared down his jaw and the way he’d pinned me against that desk, examining me as if I were some unsightly stain to be scrubbed away. I built walls out of every insult I had been denied the chance to utter, bricks hewn from anger, all surrounding the one truth I dared not confront directly. 

When his forearm pressed against my collarbone, I felt more than just his weight. No, beneath that oppressive pressure was something far more unsettling—a raw, unfettered fury, mixed with an overwhelming sense of weariness and isolation that terrified me more than any blade could. 

I hadn’t imagined it. That realization cut deeper than the chains.

“It doesn't matter,” I whispered into the oppressive blackness. “Feel what you want, Prince. The moment I'm free, I will cut your throat.”

Then I heard the key turn in the lock, a sound echoing through the silence like a thunderclap past midnight.

Torchlight pierced the cell, and instinctively, I flinched, instinctively recoiling as if I were a mole dragged from the safety of my burrow. In the doorway stood Cassian, flanked by two guards, his face grey with the fatigue of a man who had long since abandoned sleep.

“Get up,” he commanded.

“I can’t. You’ve chained my ankles to my wrists,” I shot back.

Without a word, he crouched and worked on the lock, and soon the chain fell away, though the cuffs remained. Blood rushed back into my legs, and they nearly buckled beneath me. He caught my elbow, his grip efficient but devoid of any kindness.

“I’m not supposed to talk to you,” he said quietly. “The Prince's orders. So listen closely; I’ll say this only once.”

“Where are you taking me?” 

“The war room. We found the servant from the bridge.” His jaw tightened as he spoke. “He won’t talk to anyone but Lucian. Don’t get your hopes up, Miss Voss. Hope has a way of making people sloppy.”

“Then you have your proof.”

“That’s all we have,” Cassian said grimly. “A man who won’t stop shaking.”

The war room felt different since I had last stepped inside. Every torch blazed to life, casting wild, dancing shadows across the map table, and the atmosphere was thick with urgency, almost palpable. Lady Seraphina stood stark against the far wall, her mouth a tight line, while Prince Dorian lounged in a chair next to the throne, one boot crossed over his knee, the twinkle in his eye suggesting he already knew the outcome.

On the stone floor, a small man in servant’s grey knelt with wine-stained cuffs and a split lip; his entire body shook like a leaf in a storm. Lucian loomed over him, arms folded, a bruise darkening his temple where the inkwell had struck. He didn’t need to look at me; our connection sparked like a live wire the moment I stepped into the room, forcing his shoulders to tense as I could feel the recognition pulse between us.

“Bring her closer,” he commanded, his eyes still fixed on the trembling servant.

Cassian pushed me forward until I stood mere feet from the man. He lifted his head, eyes wide with fear and an unnameable emotion—recognition, as if he had been both dreading and anticipating my arrival.

“Tell them,” Lucian instructed softly, “every word you told me an hour ago.”

The servant swallowed hard; I could practically hear his throat click. “I was paid,” he whispered, “to take the page. Just the page. I didn’t know what it was, my lord, I swear on my mother’s grave.”

“By whom?” Seraphina pressed, her voice sharp and impatient.

“I never learned her name,” he stammered. “She wore a hood. But she was…” His gaze darted to me again, and the breath caught in my throat. “She was human, my lord. I could smell it—sweet, thin. She gave me silver and said the human scholar would reward me twice over when the work was done.”

A charged silence enveloped the room, one that sent a tremor through my teeth.

“Liar!” I shouted, my voice cracking as it echoed off the walls. “I’ve been in chains since the day I arrived. I’ve never left your sight except to be locked in the dark. I have never seen this man in my life!”

“Curious, then,” Dorian mused, his delight at our turmoil evident, “that he knows exactly who to point at.”

“Because someone taught him to!” I exploded, my fury burning through the weariness. “Anyone could see it, a  hood, a human scent, a title that fits me just too perfectly. Every detail screams deception. Ask him who else was there. Ask what she looked like.”

“I am asking,” Lucian finally turned his head, his golden eyes locking onto mine flat, cold, indifferent. “And I’m watching you as I do. You seem very eager to end this line of questioning.” 

The weight of the moment bore down on me, and I could feel the storm brewing, both inside me and raging beyond the four walls of that room

"Because it’s a trap, you arrogant fool...” the sentence hung in the air, thick with tension.

“Enough.” He glanced down at the servant, his gaze sharp as steel. “Name the woman. Name anyone who can back your words, and I’ll spare your life.”

The servant's entire demeanor crumpled, a wave of dreadful relief washing over him. His lips parted, trembling with anticipation. “There was a man,” he whispered. “In the shadows on the bridge. I never saw his face, but I recognized his voice, my lord. I’d have known it anywhere. It was…”

And with that, the torches flickered and went out.

All of them, snuffed out in an instant, as if a single breath had extinguished every flame, plunging us into darkness so dense it felt solid.

A shout erupted, followed by the shriek of steel leaving its scabbard. Chairs scraped and toppled, chaos erupted. I heard Seraphina’s terrified scream, Dorian’s laughter cut short, and Cassian’s furious roar demanding light. 

And amid the turmoil, piercing through the cacophony, I recognized a wet, choking gurgle emerging from the floor just inches from where I stood.

Warmth splattered across my face. 

I stumbled back, my vision consumed by darkness and my chained hands instinctively raised. My foot squashed down on something soft and heavy that shouldn’t have been there in the place where the servant had knelt. It was still twitching, and the metallic scent of copper filled my nostrils, making me gag.

“Cassian! Seal the doors!” Lucian’s voice crackled nearby, raw with fury. Then the tumult inside my skull began to roar, drowning out everything else with its urgency. His alarm surged through my mind, feral and frantic, like a wolf battering against the confines of a cage, and beneath that, a clear thought traveled unspoken but unmistakable: 

She was right there. If she’s dead, I’ll never get my answers.

Not a hint of fear for my own safety. No, just a man guarding a treasure chest that remained tightly locked. I almost found it amusing, almost.

I opened my mouth to scream.

But before I could let the sound escape, a cold, strong hand clamped over my mouth from behind, carrying the scent of smoke. A voice drifted against my ear, soft yet unnervingly calm. 

“Hello, little scholar. Don’t resist. We’re going to take a walk.” 

I felt the chilling edge of a blade press against my throat.