Page 134 of Dark Fate

The second the cell locks, Rhyland is on me, his mouth crashing into mine as his fingers tangle in my hair. I return his fevered kisses, pouring all my love, devotion, and empathy for his suffering into it.

He went through hell at Amara's hands—twice! Simply ending her sadistic life would be too merciful. No, she needs to endure every ounce of anguish she inflicted on him and then some. I deepen our kiss, a silent promise that we will make her pay in the most excruciating ways imaginable.

He pulls back, locking his gaze with mine, intensity burning in his eyes, "Fuck, I am so proud of you for not getting sucked into her bullshit trap—for not going to a dark place I'd have dived into without a second thought. You kept your dignity and held onto your honor."

I gaze into Rhyland's mesmerizing blue eyes, dark and churning like a storm at sea. "Amara's earned a fate worse than death," I say firmly. "I can't give in to blind vengeance. My purpose is greater—to unite the realms and heal the divisions."

I caress his cheek, steeling my voice with resolve. "We'll make Amara suffer for what she's done in ways she can't even fathom. But we'll do it right—paving the path to justice."

Rhyland's forehead meets mine, his embrace firm, "Damn right—"

Footsteps sound to our left, "I have to admit, that bitch doesn't deserve your pity. But it sure warms my heart to see her rotting in a cell. Been wanting her behind bars for ages but couldn't do squat with her deal with Moretemis."

Rhyland and I jerk around at the voice echoing down the dim passage.

"Sorry for the fright, I'm—"

"King Alinar Cimmerian," Rhyland interjects.

I pause, caught off guard by his words. Amara's husband? This revelation leaves me momentarily bewildered.

"I'm sorry—a deal with Moretemis?" I finally ask, unable to contain my curiosity. "I don't understand—?"

I search Rhyland's eyes questioningly. This changes everything—I need to know more about Amara's connection to our sworn enemy. What sinister arrangement does she have with the Demon of Shadows? My mind races with the implications of this unexpected twist.

Alinar peers through the bars and then pivots to face us. "Amara's been in cahoots with that Shadow Bastard for ages. She's let him corrupt this kingdom—this entire realm—scheming together, feeding him souls through her twisted games and vile perversions."

"Alinar, you fool! Cease this madness at once! He's going to hunt you down—and when he's finished with you, he'll come for me!" Amara spits venomously from behind the bars of her cell.

Disregarding Amara's jeers, Alinar continues, "That's the root of the split between our kind, the war, the division. I've been playing along with her charade, waiting for the prophesied savior to come and redeem us all." His gaze locks on mine, determination burning in his eyes. "You."

Rhyland closes the distance, his presence commanding, "I had my suspicions, but you stood out like a sore thumb that day in her chambers. Now, it all makes fucking sense."

"Indeed, my sincerest apologies for the display. I recognized the righteousness of your intent, yet I had to uphold appearances. I trust you understand," Alinar explains.

Rhyland shrugs.

"Wait, so her compulsion doesn't work on you?" I quickly ask.

"It did, but I've found a way to repel her compulsion," Alinar explains.

"So, Amara's been dancing with Moretemis this entire time?" It's like discovering the quiet librarian secretly runs a dragon fight club—scandalous yet oddly fitting.

"Since the realm was cut off," Alinar confirms.

Rhyland folds his arms across his chest, deep in thought.

As if a light bulb goes off in my head, I recall seeing Amara wearing something that triggered my thoughts. "Hold up—" Unlocking the door—I kick it open and strut back inside.

"Danica, wait—" Rhyland calls out, his voice tinged with concern and caution, but I'm already storming into the cell with determination, my focus narrowed to a laser-sharp point on the task at hand.

Amara is sobbing, her hands covering her blood-soaked face in a futile attempt to hide her tears and her shame. But with a flick of my wrist, I blast a ball of light into the cell, illuminating the space with a blinding brilliance that cuts through the gloom and the despair.

She looks up at me, her eyes wide and wild with fear and desperation, and sure enough, there's a black stone in a damn necklace, a tiny thing no bigger than a pea but pulsing with malevolent energy that sets my teeth on edge and my skin crawling with unease.

Without hesitation, I snatch it from her neck, my fingers closing around the cold, hard stone with a sense of grim satisfaction.

Amara screams like a banshee, her voice high and shrill with panic and despair. "No, no, no! Give that back, you bitch!" she wails, her hands scrabbling at her throat as if she's been robbed of her very lifeblood.

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