Page 103 of Bound By Darkness

“Is it true, though? A High Fae prince is working with you?”

Naexi grumbled, ale still clutching onto her words. “Yes. Kaydn is one of Iyanna’s informants.”

“Was he at the Hideaway?”

“No,” Naexi answered. “He was on the same mission in Laias.”

“Wait, Laias? He’s the informant with the caster?”

Naexi pursed her lips together, a muscle ticking in her jaw. “If you repeat this to anyone, my hand won’t hesitate to release the blades at my disposal.”

“We have to go back,” I blurted. “I have to be there for her.”

“Her?” She slowly lifted herself onto her elbows, her head propped against the pillow. “The caster? You know her?”

“Classified information,” I mocked.

“I let it slip Kaydn is workingwith us. You owe me.”

“I owe you nothing.”

Naexi rubbed a sore spot along her shoulder. “You owe me a beer, at least. Let alone the date I missed tonight due to your insistent holier-than-thou attitude.”

“You brought it upon yourself.”

Thunder rolled in the background as rain splattered against the window, pelting the wood and glass.

“Indulge me once, Moria. There is nowhere I can go, and I desperately need a story. I fear I may turn green again if I leave this bed.”

Indeed, her cheeks puffed—green returning to her complexion.

Wind rattled the shutters as rain poured from the heavens, covering the land in its winter blessing.

I drew a long breath before my lips pressed together. Maybe the rain or the ale coursing through my blood had me talking.

Lightning cracked in the distance, its light bleeding around the room as I told her of the hardships we’d endured in the prison.

Naexi swore, low and filthy once I finished. “Fae pigs. Did they at least die?”

“I don’t know.” It was the truth. “I… I still remember every touch, every lingering gaze, every unholy word said about me in that prison, but in a world as cruel as this, forgetting is a luxury I’ll never have the opportunity to have.” I’d spoken too much as thunder shook the room, brilliant shatters of light flashing.

I’d never forget the horrors I’d endured in those cells. Never forget the stench of men in those guest chambers—of the vile things they made me do for scraps of food.

Whether ale or sleep loosened her tongue, Naexi spoke bright and true as she said, “If one of those guards crosses the path of my fate, I’ll stain it with their blood.”

The shutters banged in reply. Itreflected in her eyes—hatred. Hatred toward the guards who had defiled me in darkness. Stinging pricked my eyes as I shifted my gaze toward the peeling ceiling.

Clearing my throat, I rubbed my eyes, a few silver droplets staining the bed. “What of you, Naexi? What story of yours brought you to Iyanna?” I needed a change in topic—anything to minimize the attention.

“It’s nothing as gloriously depressing as yours,” she said. “Orphaned by the war, I spent much of my time flitting through cities and towns looking for work as a teenager. I worked most of my life as a barkeep until early womanhood when Iyanna stumbled into it. She made me a proposition I couldn’t refuse. A warm bed, a place to eat, and a place to seek revenge.”

I stayed silent for a moment. “You were an orphan?”

Naexi huffed. “Everyone lingers on it, but yes, I was an orphan.”

“What happened to your parents?”

“Not sure. I don’t have fond memories of them. Either they died during the rebellions, or they abandoned me. I don’t care.”

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