Page 11 of Wings of Ash & Flame
Dreams and nightmares merged into an unending cycle. Memories of smoke blurring the stars and the relentless crackling sound as the world burned around her—a reminder of what had been taken, of what she had so desperately lost.
Each day, she clung to her defiance. But that, too, felt like it was slipping away piece by piece, just like her.
Alaire sat against the rough stone of her cell, waiting patiently for the one hour a week when she didn’t feel like the walls wereclosing in on her, when the weight that had pressed so tightly over her chest eased a fraction.
For all she’d survived, she’d never anticipated feeling the bite of the wind or sunshine warming her cheeks to be a luxury. But it was. One she craved.
Multiple sets of footsteps approached—more than usual.
Her cell door screeched open. Captain Verran filled the doorway, two guards flanking him. His uniform was immaculate as always, but his shoulders were rigid.
Alaire shackled her fear. It didn’t serve her here; it only made her vulnerable.
Grimstone was meant not only to cage but to strip away every aspect of what made its prisoners people, until nothing was left except submission. But rage—rage endured. She fed it like a starving flame, nursed it through the endless nights.
Instead, she wielded the only weapon she had left: words.
“On your feet,” he ordered.
She didn’t move. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Captain?”
Alaire refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her anger. Not after all he’d done. It was something his perverse mind would thrive on.
What the captain didn’t realize was that the night he took Elodie’s life, he lost any bargaining chip he would ever have over her.
Alaire remained seated, cataloging every detail. The guards’ hands hovered over their weapons. The captain’s left eye twitched. Not one of his usual tells.
Her lip curled in a snarl, but she quickly masked it. His presence made bile rise in her throat. She lifted her eyes to his.
“Personal escort to the yard? I’m touched,” she drawled, pushing herself up from the filthy ground. Her joints cracked with the motion.
Alaire caught the flicker of irritation in his eyes, tinged with something darker and hungrier.
“Does it look like I’m here to fucking escort you to the yard?”
“Why else would you be here? Can you really not find any purpose in your life unless you’re terrorizing those who can’t fight back?”
He took another step forward, trying to back her against the wall. Alaire didn’t move an inch. If he wanted to step on her feet, that would be fine; a few broken bones wouldn’t be the end of the world. Letting him see how little power he had over her was worth the price.
She had offered him what he wanted once, begging for Elodie’s life so long ago, and he’d refused it. She wouldn’t participate in whatever power games he intended to play now.
“You’ve been summoned,” Verran said.
“By whom?”
His silence was answer enough. Another power play. Whatever it was had Captain Verran on edge, and for that reason alone, she was intrigued.
The guards stepped forward with shackles. She didn’t resist. The iron bit into her wrists, cold and familiar.
Alaire was led down a maze of twisting hallways. She counted each turn, memorizing the path. The damp air reeked of mildew, the floor uneven and rough beneath her bare feet.
Finally, the long corridor ended at a set of massive iron doors.
“Scared, Captain?”Alaire asked, noting how his hand never strayed far from his weapon.
He spun, slamming her into the wall. “Shut that mouth of yours, or I’ll take immense pleasure in gagging it.”
Alaire grinned at him. She couldn’t help it. After all this time, she’d never seen him this on edge.
