Page 12 of The Blood Traitor

He leaned forward, the movement slight and yet still ominous enough to fill Kiva with foreboding.

“Since he’s no longer here to feel my displeasure, I’ve decided that, now you’re feeling better, you’ll get to experience it on his behalf.”

Kiva’s foreboding grew as Rooke waved his hand and two of his personal guards appeared like smoke from around the side of the building.

“The Butcher is expecting you, N18K442,” Rooke said as the new guards latched on to Kiva’s arms.

It took a moment for his words to process, but when they did, her heart stopped.

Rooke’s lips stretched into a grin as he finished, “He’s got a special cell prepared, just for you.”

Chapter Three

Darkness.

That was all Kiva knew — all Kivawas.

Curled up in the corner of a pitch-black cell inside the Abyss, she tried to find the will to survive, her inner demons whispering that she should give up, that everyone hated her and no one would ever forgive her. That there was no reason to keep on living.

Such thoughts had plagued her ever since the angeldust had faded from her blood weeks earlier, but the unnatural darkness of the Abyss amplified them, leaving her slumped over herself and covering her ears, as if doing so might keep the damning voices at bay.

She was in her own personal hell — and it was a hell of her own making.

Kiva had felt the despair of being locked in an isolation cell only once before, right after Jaren had saved her from the Trial by Water. The sensory deprivation had nearly destroyed her, but thanks to Naari’s warning, Kiva had known she would be released for her final Ordeal.

This time, she had no guarantees. All she knew was that the Butcher’s ruddy face had lit with anticipation upon Rooke’s guards delivering her to the punishment block earlier that afternoon, his delight enough that, for one stomach-dropping moment, Kiva had feared he would drag her straight to the flogging post. She still had nightmares about his bloodied whip tearing Jaren’s flesh open. But the Butcher had spared her that cruelty, having other plans for her, other torments.

“Pain fades, but darkness lingers,” he’d said gleefully, dragging her to the Abyss and throwing her in, leaving her with no distractions from her own merciless thoughts.

Guilt, sorrow, shame — they were her constant companions as the seconds crawled by, then the minutes, then the hours. All the while, she saw the same faces over and over again: Jaren, Naari, Tipp, Caldon, Torell.

She heard Jaren’s final words to her:How... could... you?

She heard Caldon’s dead-sounding warning:You need to run.

She heard Tipp’s wobbling, tear-filled accusation:You’re aC-Corentine?

And then she saw her sister’s smug face, her moon-pale skin and honey-gold eyes laughing as her damning words repeated endlessly in Kiva’s mind:Well done, sister. I couldn’t have done this without you.

If Rooke had wanted to torture Kiva, he couldn’t have picked a better punishment than to lock her in with her own demons. The darkness only made them grow.

“I can’t do this,” Kiva whispered, trembling and rocking in place. “I can’t survive this.”

She didn’twantto survive it. What was the point, when she’d lost so much? There was nothing left for her — nothing, and no one.

She wanted the darkness to take her.

Wanted it to be over.

Wanted it toend.

But then there was a crack of light, momentary and blinding, followed by the groan of another human as they were thrown into the cell with Kiva, their body crashing onto the hard stone as the door slammed shut behind them.

“Sonofabitch,” hissed a familiar voice, weak with pain, near Kiva’s feet.

Kiva wondered if she was dreaming. Or if she was already dead. “Cresta?”

A grunt of confirmation. “Who the hell else?”

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