Page 70 of Forged By Heart and Claws
Briar’s hand brushed mine, and she linked,He hasn’t lied the entire time, and it would save us time.
I nodded. “As long as we’re sure the people you send can be trusted.”
“I want to speak with them.” Briar released my hand and turned toward the door.I’ll make sure none of them are lying.
Finbar hesitated then inclined his head. “I vouch for my men with my life. But if my queen wishes to confirm their loyalty herself, I welcome it.”
“Then see it done,” I said.
Finbar opened the door. While he gave orders and discussed logistics with me, Briar stepped forward to conduct her assessments, silent but sharp-eyed. I watched her, pride stirring low in my chest. She was a true leader and warrior, because even injured and exhausted, she did what was best for us and the others. And she didn’t flinch from what had to be done.
I followed her, watching her move among the soldiers. Pride bloomed within me even more, watching her stop and assess people without showing even a hint of how horrible she felt. After each encounter, she’d link with me and fill me in. So far, everyone had cleared.
But a few looked her way and lingered too long. A low growl curled in my throat, enough to remind them she was claimed. One step out of line, and not even Fate could shield them from me.
When she returned to my side, her brow was furrowed. Concern rippled through our link, the sensations fading in and out, which had never happened before at this strength. It was getting worse.
I reached out for her elbow, my claws grazing her flesh. “What troubles you, my love?”
“It’s working, but…I feel even more distant from my wolf. And…it’s all fainter.” She pressed her lips into a line, trying to hide her discomfort.
My jaw clenched. “Is she in pain?”
“She’s restless. Whimpering. I can’t reach her properly. It’s like trying to grasp fog.” Her voice thinned, frustration bleeding through her expression.
I took her wrists gently and examined both tattoos. The veins around them pulsed dark and slow, the marks looking more like brands than ink. Why had the guardian done this to her?
“We’ll find the answer.” I pressed a kiss to her temple. Her scent of cinnamon and ginger was a balm to my fury. “Do you want to stay here? You don’t have to face Kaylen.”
Her spine straightened. “I don’t fear Kaylen. You bet your sexy ass, I’m going.”
Finbar approached with supplies. He handed Briar a pair of boots that were a little too large but better than her going barefoot, and a long black tunic that hung off her frame but hid the worst of the grime. She pulled them on without comment. He brought me a clawed sword and a reinforced belt, but no armor. Still, it was better than nothing. For Briar, he had another belt with a light sword attached, appropriate for her height.
Once I’d issued final instructions and supplies were en route to the vesting chamber, Briar and I set out.
We moved fast, our steps echoing softly through winding tunnels. The air grew colder as we descended toward the eastern dungeon. At each intersection, I paused, scenting the air and listening, but there was nothing but stone and silence. Briar stayed close behind me, her boots whispering against the floor, discomfort pulsing from her wrists and the distant ache of her wolf’s absence anchoring our bond.
Then came the cries. They were soft at first, then rose like a chorus of the void from women, men, and children. My stomach twisted. Rage simmered low and hard. I felt Briar flinch, her hand brushing mine before she masked her heartbreak.
The final passage narrowed to a cleft just wide enough to slip through sideways. I pressed my shoulder into it and squeezedforward until we reached a slanted pocket door. I pushed it open a fraction.
Empty.
No patrols. No posted guards.
Only corridors lined with cells, dim lamps guttering against stone slick with moisture. The reek of sweat, filth, and despair hit hard. I swallowed against it, teeth grinding. The cells were not meant to hold so many, and my father had sealed these halls decades ago. At least, it wasn't claustrophobic. The halls themselves were wide enough for two men to walk while hauling a coffin between them with ease.
The cells were little more than chiseled tombs: no windows, no beds, only bare rock and holes for waste. Water dripped from small pipes. It was deliberate suffering, meant to keep a guilty prisoner in darkness and isolation until either madness or starvation claimed them.
Briar’s breath hitched, and our bond stuttered with her raw need to help these people. Her hand caught mine as the low wails and murmurs of the imprisoned reached us through narrow viewing slits.The best way we can help them is to take back the palace,I reminded her through the bond.
I know… It’s just—she started.
A piercing voice echoed, bouncing off the stones. “No, guard! Is there someone out there? Wait! Don’t walk away! Let me out! I don’t deserve to be here!”
Briar and I exchanged a look and crept forward silently. Two corridors passed before we turned right, following the echo of the voice.
This corridor stretched longer, the stench of piss and feces choking now. Each cell was identical and empty, and there were no guards in sight, just as Finbar had said.
