Page 121 of A City of Flames

I avoid each beg from the prisoners, each second they insult one another across cells and I take a long breath. It’s only once I slow down and look to my left that I see the looming hallway I saw last time, leading down somewhere, deeper than I already am.

Shaking my head at the itch of curiosity, I continue, each minute bringing me closer to where Darius is. Clatters and distant echoes sound from one of the passages, making me freeze but the noise fades and I figure they’ve gone another way.

Blowing a breath, I dart my gaze around. A deathly cough resonates through the cells before I make my way to the steel gates and place both palms flat on it. I graze my fingers along it, cold crust rasps against my skin as I count to three hoping this works. I’ve had the confidence for anything prior to coming to Emberwell, I don’t want to lose it now.

I look to the side where the lever is and check again for any venators. Not a single soul—for now. Once I pull on the lever, the gates rise and I stumble into the cave-like cell. It doesn’t take me long to find Darius in the middle and I hold back my gasp at what I see. Chains hang from above, clasped on each of his wrists, his body sags and his head tilts to the side like he’s been in this position, unconscious for hours, days.

I peel my hood back and rush in front of him. “Darius.” Resting my hands on his face, I plead for him to awaken. He grunts and I close my eyes for a few seconds, letting out a small sound of relief before opening them.

He lifts his head, his voice hoarse as he realizes it’s me. “What are you doing here?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” My whisper is loud enough to sound like a hiss as I glance behind me briefly. “I’m getting you out that’s what I’m doing.”

He shakes his head and his eyes slit as he tries to stay conscious. “You need to leave; they’ll know it’s you—”

“I’m not leaving.” I glance at the chains and walls, hoping there’s something to pull them down but there is nothing.

“Listen to me—”

I will not. “First of all, you should know by now I hate listening to you.” I huff. “And second, be quiet while I take these chains off.”

“So heroic.” He chuckles but it’s not the same, not the kind he always gives me where it’s followed by a teasing remark. It’s feeble, raspy, not a Darius laugh.

The word sorry wants to come out but that doesn’t feel like it is enough, not for what he’s endured during his capture.

I turn my focus to the shackle around his right wrist, and I can feel him looking at me the whole time. It makes my nerves spike, so I send a small glare over at him and his lip tilts up, but it falls too quick, I almost miss it. The reminder of our last encounter right before his capture hangs thick in the air, but he does not say a word. Inhaling deeply, I study both chains this time, the dents and blood dripping to his elbows.

Just like the shifter I’d seen wearing these before, it is clearly some sort of steel spike or knives piercing their wrists. Attempting to yank these off won’t work, it might do more harm than good. I sigh, I need a set of keys to unlock the sides of them, no blade I have will fit to pick at the lock.

I decide to walk around him to see if there is anything else I can do, when up close I see fresh lashes across his back. Blood clots over wounds, others such deep cuts, it makes me ache. I know they will heal until not even a scratch shows, but with the Neoma blood weakening him, it might not.

My hand trembles a little as I reach for one in the center of his back. He tenses as I do, and then I suck in a small breath. As I trace my index finger over the wound… it begins to heal within seconds. I take my hand off like I’ve been burned, but Darius doesn’t seem to notice.

I stare down at my fingers, wriggling them.

It healed?

Thinking I’ve gone mad, I attempt to touch another wound, one by his shoulder. It closes upon my contact and my brows crinkle until he suddenly starts whispering, “Naralía Ambrose.” It’s more like he’s talking to himself as he repeats my name a few times like a sacred prayer from his lips, and a speck of liveliness seems to return to him. “Do you have a middle name?”

My fingers still, forgetting for a moment how he’s healing. I’ve not been asked that in a while, and I should know Darius of all people would be one to end that streak. “It’s um—it’s Brielle,” I say it quietly enough that I doubt he can hear me. “It means strength. My mother gave the four of us middle names she believed we’d have within ourselves.”

A pause of silence like he’s soaking up my answer. “And your brothers?”

I smile and another of his wounds heals as I brush my hand against it. “Idris Callan, protector.” And he is true to that middle name. Idris always makes sure to protect us even when I give him a hard time. Walking back around to face Darius, I glide my hands along his torso and then say, “Illias Cedric... kindness, and finally Iker Alexander, nobility.” I stare up at Darius, he stares down at me, my blue gaze reflecting off the dark gold gleam of his. He doesn’t respond, I don’t even think there is a way to respond to it, but he does smile. It’s affectionate, maybe even a sense of appreciation that makes my breath shake out of me. I quickly move my hand to touch what I can reach of his wrists, and he grimaces. “Sorry.” My fingers recoil and I too grimace. “I won’t be able to take these shackles off without hurting you.”

His eyes train on me, on everything I say. “It’s fine,” he whispers before letting out a breathless chuckle. “I’m sure you’re secretly enjoying this.”

I glower. Months ago, I could have easily said yes but... “Well, if it was the other way around, I’m sure you would too.”

His expression hardens. He didn’t like my comment. The knuckles of his hands turn white as he clutches the chains, and tilts his head away.

He doesn’t want to say something back and I don’t know if I want to hear it.

“Darius?” I clear my throat, but it does nothing to the croakiness in my voice.

His gaze jumps to me in a heartbeat and the anger in his eyes cools to a warmth of gold.

“About your capture,” I say, avoiding his stare and my heart stammers. “I know you think I had something to do with it but—”

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