Chapter 24

Jace

The heavy iron cuffs had rubbed my wrists raw. Deep cuts circled my arms, and every beat of my heart made them sting, but I barely noticed the pain. All I could feel was the fear twisting hard inside my stomach.

Archduke Holden had kept his word.

Just an hour ago, General Vane had unlocked the rusty chains holding me to the dungeon wall. He kicked me into the hallway with a cruel laugh.

“You’re free to go, Commander. But you might want to hurry to the lower sectors. The Empress sent your precious little Beta prince into the Iron Sinks. He’s probably been torn apart across the coal grates by now.”

I didn’t wait for the lift.

I climbed down the emergency iron rungs inside the main ventilation shaft instead. My boots kept slipping on the wet, sulfur covered metal as I climbed deeper and deeper into the boiling, poisonous underbelly of the capital.

Now I stood at the bottom of the central refinery crossing. Thick white steam burned my throat, making it hard to breathe. Far in the distance, the furnaces cast an orange glow over the area.

It looked like a slaughterhouse.

“Elian,” I whispered.

His name came out of my mouth like a broken plea. I pulled out my two short swords and stepped into the blood soaked area. Ash covered the stone floor, but most of it was already dark with blood. Bodies lay scattered beneath the huge steel arches.

I crouched beside the first body.

My training took over.

The man’s leather armor had been ripped open from his collarbone all the way down to his stomach. It was a powerful strike, one that would have needed a strong arm and a heavy weapon.

Stirling Vance.

The Crown Duke had been here. And from the damage around me, he had fought like a man who had nothing left to lose. I moved through the steam, following the marks left by heavy boots and the trails of blood. Three imperial guards were dead.

All three had suffered deep wounds from what looked like Stirling’s broadsword. But they weren’t the bodies that made my blood run cold. It was the men dressed in black leather. The Empress’s personal assassins.

They had been sent here to kill a sick and helpless prince who couldn’t even defend himself.

My heart started pounding. For the first time, fear threatened to break through my military training. If they had found Elian in all this steam, he wouldn’t have survived. He could barely hold a training sword without becoming short of breath.

I pushed farther into the thick steam, moving away from the main area. Then I saw a dark shape lying beside a rusty pressure valve. I dropped to my knees, keeping my swords ready. The man was already dead.

I grabbed his shoulder and turned him onto his back. Then I pulled the dark cloth away from his face. My eyes immediately went to his neck. I was looking for the wound that had killed him.

Then I froze.

I couldn’t breathe.

His throat had been cut. But this wasn’t the kind of wound left by someone desperately fighting for their life.

The cut was clean.

Precise.

The blade had slipped underneath the leather armor around his neck and gone straight between the plates, cutting the artery perfectly. Whoever had done this knew exactly what they were doing.

It would have taken incredible control, a steady hand, and a complete understanding of where to strike. Stirling Vance didn’t fight like that. Stirling fought with force. Like a battering ram. This was different.

This was careful. Calculated. Almost silent. The work of someone who knew exactly how to kill. I stared at the wound, trying to convince myself that I was wrong. But the angle of the cut told me everything.

Someone had killed this assassin with terrifying confidence. There was only one person missing from this area. I looked down at the ash-covered floor. A footprint was clearly pressed into the dust beside the body. It wasn’t the wide, heavy print of an imperial guard.

It was small.

Narrow.

A prince’s boot. The size matched Prince Elian’s perfectly. “No,” I whispered. The word barely left my mouth. My fragile, sickly prince. The boy who trembled whenever Archduke Holden raised his voice. The boy with the soft, bruised skin and frightened eyes.

The boy who had kept my Alpha instincts awake at night because all I wanted was to protect him. He hadn’t been hiding. He had killed this assassin and he had done it silently. Before the man could even react, Prince Elian wasn’t helpless. He wasn’t weak. He was a highly trained killer. I slowly stood up.

The world seemed to spin around me as the truth finally hit. Every weak cough. Every shaky step. Every time he allowed Callan to push him down. It had all been an act. A very convincing one.

But why?

What was Elian hiding beneath all those layers of linen?

Before I could think of an answer, I heard metal scrape against stone somewhere in the dark tunnel to my left. I spun around and raised both swords. A figure slowly appeared through the thick steam But it wasn’t Elian.

It was Stirling Vance. He was covered in blood. His broadsword hung loosely from one hand And over his left shoulder was someone. Someone completely unconscious.

The Prince.

My grip tightened around my swords until my knuckles turned white But it wasn’t the sight of Stirling covered in blood that frightened me. It wasn’t even the fact that he was carrying Elian. It was the smell.

Strong.

Sweet.

Impossible to mistake. Wild honey and rain. The scent was coming from Elian’s unconscious body And suddenly, I knew that whatever I thought I knew about my fragile little prince…

I had been completely wrong.