Page 3 of Claimed By Shadow and Blood
One of the guards chuckled. “If you don’t share everything, your future will be you crying and screaming like the others.”
I swallowed hard, realizing what was going on.
Torture.
What sort of sick hell was this place?
A sour taste filled my mouth. “I’ll tell you everything I know. Someone stabbed the king. It wasn’t me?—”
“Silence.” The guard on my left struck the back of my neck with what I thought was the flat of his palm. “We have no time to waste on lies.”
The edges of my vision darkened, and acid burned the back of my throat. I wanted to say more, but I wasn’t stupid. They viewed me as guilty, and I couldn’t blame them. Someone had staged me perfectly, like a puppet with strings. I’d done exactly what they’d wanted.
We reached a heavy iron gate that groaned on its hinges as it opened. I stumbled again, my knees buckling, but the guards jerked me upright and threw me into the center of the chamber.
I fell onto my knees, blinding pain shooting through my limbs. I swallowed a whimper, not wanting to give these assholes any pleasure in what they’d done. Instead, I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to focus my attention away from my neck, feet, and knees, and forced myself to stand upright.
Two more guards with wings extended strode out of the shadows as if they’d been waiting for me.
“You can leave,” the taller of the new guards commanded.
The first two turned to depart, and I had a sudden, urgent thought. I yelled, “Rhielle! She’s injured. Someone should check on her.”
One of them looked over his shoulder at me, and the tall new guard spat, “Leave. Now.”
These new guards wore dark gray armor instead of black and hoods that obscured their faces entirely, not even showing the light of their eyes. Their heavy armor was identical metal over leather, except for the crests at the center of their chests and the emblems on the backs of their gloves. One had a shadow wolf, a sword, and a three-pronged rune. The other had a dragon, a mace, and a circle around a triangle.
The guards who’d brought me here hurried off, leaving me alone with these two, who screamed small-dick energy. Still, they had to care about the king. Surely.
“Please, whoever killed the king might try to hurt Prince Vad. I swear it wasn’t me. You have to catch whoever it was, or else?—”
The guard directly in front of me struck me across the face. My head jerked to the side, and my jaw throbbed as my lips stung. Tears burned my eyes, but I blinked them back.
“You don’t speak unless you’re spoken to.” His voice, low and harsh, grated on my ears. He spat and then wiped the back of his glove on my ruined dress.
My blood slicked the wolf, sword, and rune on the back of his glove, which glistened like it had been stamped with deep crimson ink. I swallowed more blood and bit back another sob as my wolf growled within me. I touched my lips and winced at the wetness seeping into my mouth.
They shoved me against the nearest wall and groped me roughly, searching for weapons. I gritted my teeth and took a ragged breath. I couldn’t show weakness in front of them, but I also had to acknowledge that they were certain I’d killed their king. Once I explained, I hoped to Fate they’d listen.
I held in a laugh. I must be in a desperate situation to be calling on Fate to help me.
An image of the dying king flashed into my mind, and the little bit of humor died.
Vad thought I’d killed his father. Worse, the king was dead, or near it. It had been a perfect setup. When I closed my eyes, Vad’s gaze burned into my soul. That rage. That hate. My chest tightened in response, and I wanted to scream…as if I needed more of that. Fate had already decided to fuck with me. Now I’d been framed for murder. Was I ever going to return home to my sister, Ember?
Who would do this?
Was it Kaylen? My fingers dug into porous stone, and a growl rose in my throat just from thinking of my fellow bride candidate’s smug face. It had to have been her.
The guards finished searching me and jerked me into a single chair sitting in the center of the cell. They bound me with coarse rope that burned and itched as soon as it touched my flesh. The flaming tattoo on my upper right hand flared beneath the fibers, writhing and pulsing as if it were trying to fly away.
If only I could fly.
The guards snapped the ropes extra tight, securing loops to my ankles and wrists and the legs of the chair. Then they fell back, stepping out of my line of sight. More screams echoed in the distance, along with pleas for mercy. A shudder coursed through me, and sickening dread pooled in my stomach. I glanced around the cell.
In one corner, there were cupboards and a table that almost blended into the darkness. From this angle, I caught the glint of metal implements and polished stone on its surface. My gut twisted.
I was facing a wall. The door was probably behind me, and I guessed that was where the guards had gone to stand. Havingmy back to them made me snarl. Every twitch and breath and even the absence of any sound made the dread stronger. They could do anything to me, and I wouldn’t know until it happened.
