“No…”

Aviel left me on the cold floor, his magic disappearing from my wrists. The room spun dizzily, my breath coming in painful gasps as I weakly curled onto my side.

Too late, I attempted to bring my finger to my palm, my hands now close enough to do so. But my body was no longer working.

Aviel hauled me to my feet, the arm gripping me possessively around my waist the only thing holding me upright.

My thoughts slurred together.

The last thing I saw was the cruel twist of Aviel’s lips—the same ones I had let kiss me—before I succumbed to unconsciousness.

Chapter22

Eva

When I woke, my head was pounding so hard, I didn’t even try to open my eyes, welcoming the darkness. Every part of me hurt. I let out a hiss under my breath as Aviel’s betrayal and the horrified panic of my last waking moments flooded back all at once. When I tried to suck in a deep breath, a stabbing sensation in my ribs stopped me from making it a full one.

That thin metal collar was still clamped around my neck, constricting it slightly—too cold against the warmth of my skin.When I reached up to inspect it, I was startled by the sound of metal on metal, a heavy weight cinching my wrists.

My eyes flew open.Shackles.Iron bulbs surrounded my hands and extended down to my wrists. They attached to chains that hooked onto the dank stone wall of my cell.

In case the collar wasn’t enough to stop my magic? Or did Aviel know what the quill tattooed on my palm meant?

I closed my eyes against the terror that tore through me. Because I was chained in Morehaven’s dungeon, with no way to tell anyone. Alone in my cell, for now, but…trapped. I sucked in a sharp breath that sounded suspiciously close to a sob.

But I refused to cry. Refused to let them see me break. Not until I got myself out of this mess and had the luxury of letting myself do so.

I waited for white-hot rage to surge through me, the urge to destroy everyone and everything responsible for my situation, but it never came. Instead, a resolute acceptance settled in my stomach. Whatever Aviel had in store for me, I would fight him every step of the way.

There was a prickle on my palm, and I jolted. But with my hands completely covered in iron, I couldn’t see what Bash wrote, let alone write back. I forced down a scream of frustration, staring at the dull metal as if I could see his lanky scrawl straight through it.

Letting my hand drop, I made myself take in my surroundings—my dread taking a back seat to the awareness training my dad had ingrained upon Tobias and me at too young an age.

Always, always find your exits,I heard him say.

I noted how far the entrance to my cell was from the main entrance where a guard stood at attention. It appeared to be the only way out. Just one guard, though I was sure there were more behind the massive iron door, having seen four of them when Aviel walked me past this prison on our tour. There was a low weeping and the whisper of soft voices in the gloom that told me I wasn’t alone in here.

Quietly, I tested the shackles on my wrists, the bulbs, the joints where they were attached to the wall, but there was no give, no way out without a key. The chain had some slack, but I doubted it would let me get very far. Between the iron bars on the door to my cell and the guard eying me, I didn’t have the option to escape…yet.

I slumped against the wall. All there was left to do was wait, at least until I could find an opening to escape. Wait, and wallow in the misery of my own thoughts.

Because I couldn’t believe I had been so stupid. So unforgivablynaïve and stupid as to trust the fairytale prince when I should have known better. I had heard those warning bells from the beginning—an anxious feeling, a too carefully chosen word, that possessive gleam in his eye—and had still let myself be fooled.

There was a hollow pit in my stomach that felt like a living thing, the pain spreading until I worried it would consume me.

How could I have been so idiotic as to let down my guard? To blindly believe in what I had been told? To?—

Breathe.

I took a shuddering breath in for a slow four count, blowing out a little too hard, my lungs straining by the second count. But I did it again. And again. And again, until I could do so steadily.

There has to be a way out.

I tried yet again to reach out with my magic, but there was nothing but faint, insubstantial wisps of it, disappearing every time I tried to tighten my grip. The iron bulbs encircled my wrists too tightly to get a finger inside where they stretched to fully cover both hands. But from the tingle on my palm, I knew Bash had written to me again.

Would he think I was ignoring him? Or could he sense something was wrong like he had during dinner…

Help me, Bash. Help, help, help?—