Page 58 of A Queen and HER Bad Boy
He’d make sure that they’d found the right culprit, and not some political enemy that posed some inconvenience to his father-in-law’s power. Collecting war prizes wouldn’t keep Bris safe. He reached the iron-barred entrance where torches once flickered against stone walls that had probably witnessed centuries of human suffering. Now bare bulbs hung from crude fixtures, their sickly light creating dancing shadows that made the ancient stonework seem alive.
He glanced at the burly security chief whose keys jangled like chains. “Take me to O Skia.”
“Your Royal Highness shouldn’t be in this place,” the guard muttered nervously, though his protest died when Phoenix’s sharp glare silenced him.
“I will personally escort him.” Apparently the threat of removing Bris from the country was sufficient motivation to change Phoenix’s tune.
Saluting with remembered duty, the guard followed the order, though Achilles couldn’t help noticing that Phoenix was at the root of it.
Peder stayed behind to monitor the entrance while the chancellor shadowed Achilles’s every step. The security chief led them to a thick metal door with multiple deadbolts and a sliding security panel. A single bare bulb swayed slightly overhead, casting shifting shadows over their prisoner.
So this was the fearful Shadow?
Achilles’s stomach knotted when he noticed the man chained to the stone wall like a medieval torture victim. Shackles? Were they truly trapped in the dark ages? This world was a bizarre contradiction—modern steel doors with electronic locks, yet here were iron manacles biting cruelly into their prisoner’s wrists, the metal darkened with age and—he didn’t want to think about what else.
Broad shoulders strained against the cruel restraints. O Skia was unmistakably Tirrojan—dark hair streaked with premature silver framed a weathered face carved by suffering and pure grit. But it was his eyes that arrested him: they burned with banked fires of rage and loss, holding an intensity that spoke of a man who’d seen too much and lost everything.
Yet the imposing Shadow seemed to steel himself at the sight of Achilles, as if preparing for battle. Was it because he was guilty of the crimes they’d accused him of?
Achilles turned sharply to Phoenix, his voice cutting through the dungeon’s oppressive atmosphere. “Leave us alone. Now.”
Phoenix’s nostrils flared, his careful composure cracking for the first time tonight. “I hardly think that’s advisable—”
Achilles’s voice dropped to a lethal whisper. “Get out.”
Instead of his usual smugness, the chancellor’s jaw worked silently before he managed to force out: “I’ll be stationed outside if you require assistance.”
With his ear pressed to the door, no doubt.Achilles slammed the heavy metal door shut behind him, the sound echoing ominously through stone corridors that had imprisonedcountless souls over the centuries. His gaze found the prisoner again, taking in every detail of the man’s defiant posture. “They call you O Skia?”
The man’s lips twisted into a bitter smile, his penetrating eyes studying Achilles so intently that a chill shot down his spine. This was exactly how he’d imagined someone who was behind the political chaos would appear—dangerous, intelligent, utterly unbreakable. “Ah, they’ve sent the queen’s lapdog to intimidate me into confession?”
Achilles wasn’t in the mood to be insulted. “Did you order the attack on my wife?”
The older man’s laughter echoed harshly off the stone walls, mocking and contemptuous. “She’s nothing but a puppet. Why would I waste resources on her?”
Clearly, rumors spread like wildfire. “And that makes you angry?” He’d get real answers out of this rebel. “Angry enough to send assassins after her?”
Once again, the Shadow’s dark eyes flashed with pure contempt. “I won’t waste my time with that child.”
That was a pretty importantchild.“Yet you continue fighting against Chises Mnon’s authority.”
“Until my dying breath,” O Skia paused, his penetrating gaze studying Achilles with unnerving intensity—that look again, as if he could see straight through to his soul. “He will never sink his greedy claws into Aeaea, and neither will his Myrdon allies!”
Achilles stiffened in genuine surprise. Of course, the Shadow must have been briefed about his past involvement with those rebels, before Achilles had discovered their cause was just as hollow as everyone else’s. “I was told you work with Myrdons.”
“You think if I worked with those parasites there’d be anything left of that island worth protecting? I’d never be so stupid,” the man’s conviction carried a weight that made Achilles’s chesttighten, before he fixed on him a judgmental glare. “Your father would never recognize the man his son has become.”
The scathing words nearly knocked Achilles off his feet, and he clenched his fists until his knuckles went white. Insults should mean nothing coming from a terrorist, yet his ears burned with what he’d just told him: “You knew my father?”
“Knew him?” The Shadow’s laughter was dark and bitter. “Ah, young wolf!” The odd nickname sounded strangely like a term of endearment the way he said it. “What exactly do you want from me? You want me to tell you how your father betrayed his closest friend, his family, his own wife?”
Would Achilles stand here and allow this terrorist to destroy his father’s reputation further? Everything they discussed was under surveillance, but he no longer cared. His father had been betrayed by Chises Mnon—his mother had been taken captive because of that man’s negligence. How could that possibly mean his father had betrayed them? The logic made no sense, yet doubt crept into his thoughts like poison. He shook his head violently to clear away these dangerous suspicions. “What are you implying?”
“I told you already—I don’t waste my breath on puppets.”
Achilles stepped closer, studying the prisoner’s scarred hands, the way he held his head with unbroken pride despite the chains. The same madness that had driven this man to guard his island from all outside threats had also made him menacing in a different way. He held in him secrets. No wonder the High Consortium had him locked away from all outside contact.
“Tell me about the Earl of Alexopoulos,” Achilles demanded. “What’s his connection to all this?”
