Page 115 of A Shattered Kingdom of Steel

“She’s safe.” Viridian’s words are clipped. “No thanks to you.”

Narrowing his amber eyes, he ascends to his full height. “Tell me,” he says, taking a step forward. “Are you responsible for the attack at Nemos’s pass?”

“Nemos’s pass?” I repeat, cocking my head. In an attempt to sway his suspicion, I ask, “Now, why would you ask me about that?”

“You’d be interested to know her carriage was recovered. When my guards arrived, they told me they’d stepped into the wake of a bloodbath. Then, the next time I see her, she’s with you, unconscious.” Viridian comes even closer now, hard lines forming at his jaw. “I won’t ask you again. Are you responsible for the attack?”

Hardening my expression, I tilt my head back and puff out my chest to the extent that I can, not once tearing my eyes from his.

Since fae can’t lie, there’s only one way to answer that question.

So I opt to say nothing instead.

Viridian’s eyes flare, electricity snapping between his fingertips. “I see.”

He steps back, and his lightning fizzles until there’s none of it left. Turning his face from mine slightly, he clears his throat. “Guards. Take him.”

Violently, the doors swing open.

I clench my teeth, keeping my arms pressed to my sides. Staring at Viridian, who stands before me the entire time, I let the guards restrain me, their grip on my arms iron-tight.

“As I told you before,” I seethe, my voice dripping with malice, “I will give you anything.” I pause, taking a breath before I continue. “As long as you give my mate the help she needs.”

Shock stuns Viridian’s angular features, and his mouth parts. “Lymseia is your mate?”

“Yes,” I growl, possessiveness lacing my words. “My mate.”

Viridian recovers quicker than I thought he would, leveling his expression. “Lymseia is with the royal healers. They’re doing everything they can for her.”

“Good,” I tell him.

Then I let his guards take me away.

Time passes differently in the royal dungeons. With no windows, or any other glimpses into the outside world, it’s difficult to say how long I’ve been held. It could be hours, or it could be days, and I wouldn’t know.

My body is too weak to stand, still depleted from the massive amount of energy I spent to conjure the portal. Even at full strength, the reinforced steel bars caging me would be a formidable foe—one I don’t think I’d be able to defeat.

All I can do is wait.

And worry.

Gods, I worry so much.

I worry that Lymseia will never wake up. I worry that I’ll lose her.

I worry that I already have.

No, I tell myself. I would know if I’d lost her. I would feel it—the pain of her absence, weighing down on me like an executioner’s blade. Losing her would be a fate far worse than death.

She’s still there, in my mind. Faint, but there. Whatever magic has her under its thrall, it’s keeping her soul locked away from mine.

But my mate is a fighter. She won’t give into anything without a fight. I can feel it—feel her fighting for her life. She’s tired, but still, she’s relentless.

“Good,” I muse into the empty space. “Fight, my fearless Bladesinger. And don’t you dare stop fighting.”

The sound of the door scraping stone has me hoisting myself to my feet. If there’s one thing my worthless excuse for a father taught me, it’s to always look a stronger male in the eyes.

I expect footsteps to follow, but only voices travel down the dungeon steps.

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