Page 67 of The Kingdom's Crown

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"I tookthe liberty of moving them into…better accommodations, Your Highness," Head Guard Amos said, leading the way into the dungeons.

Bryony's hand was in mine, Cresswell on her other side, his eyes carefully scanning the hall, ever the guard.

"Have they seen doctors?" Bryony asked.

Amos nodded, "With great improvement, for the most part. Their bodies are healing, at least."

Bryony's fingers tightened around mine at what was unspoken. Not unlike Sam, I suspected that Camellia's former Chosen were a long way from healing their own minds.

"Is it safe for you to speak to them?" I asked Bryony, and Cresswell stood straighter at her side.

"You'll take every precaution," Cresswell said.

Bryony nodded. "I will. Owen will you…be able to tell from outside the door?"

"I think so."

"He can go in with Amos," Cresswell said, and Bryony's lips pursed with her own unspoken objection.

I raised her hand to my lips, kissing her knuckles to hide my smile. She wouldn't like me taking any risks she too wasn't allowed to take.

"As I am not a small, fierce, blonde princess, I think it will be safe for me," I said and grinned as she rolled her eyes.

Bryony leaned around me and Cress as we arrived in a brighter, more open hall. "This is where Lily was held."

"Yes, Your Highness. These were originally intended for nobility. I would've kept the Goddards here if they hadn't fled the country."

Our steps slowed as we approached a door, Bryony rising to her toes briefly to glance inside the grate. She grimaced and turned away quickly, looking at me.

"Igor. Do you get anything?"

I released her hand and stepped closer. The man inside—who was pleasuring himself in a way that seemed a bit bored and compulsive—was familiar. He'd been one of the ones Camellia had brought with her to the Winter Palace. His head turned, eyes skimming aimlessly over mine as his hips began to buck.

I leaned away, frowning and shaking my head. "Just a man as far as I can tell. Is he…okay?"

"He does that a lot," Amos said flatly, glancing at Bryony. "I wouldn't recommend we alert him to your presence."

She nodded and swallowed, staying intentionally quiet as we passed. "I always thought Igor suited Camellia. He was a bit aggressive. What crime did he commit?"

"Tried to kill another Chosen. It was the dowager who sentenced him here," Amos answered.

Bryony paled and glanced back at the door, where faint snarling sounds were filtering through. "Is it the Hunger doing this to them?" Bryony whispered, more to herself than us. Her brow furrowed with concern, and her shoulders drew up a little higher. "Amos, do you know if there is any…pattern of aggression rising amongst Chosen who have been serving for a long time?"

"Bryony, you don't think—" Cresswell started, reaching for her, even as she held herself tighter.

But I knew my mistress, and if there was a way for her to worry over others, she would find it.

"No pattern, Your Highness," Amos said. "Just individuals."

"Bryony," I murmured, reaching slowly for her chin, turning her gently toward me and bending down so I could whisper only to her. "You're not corrupting us."

"But—"

"If the Hunger is corrupting your sister or her Chosen, it is because there is something in them that feeds that," I said, holding her gaze, seeing the hope catch in the colors until they warmed a little.

"Like after…when I felt so angry and ready to snap," she whispered back.

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