I stopped in front of a large, iron door. The small opening we used to peer into his room was closed, so I slid the panel open and looked inside.
Damien sat at his desk, a book open in front of him as he skimmed the pages. I’d spoken to Eva about the guards having denied Damien his meals. She had seen him before I had arrived, and knew how horrid he had looked. Despite his condition, it was difficult convincing her and Matthew that he should have the privilege of upgraded accommodations. I understood their desire to see him punished, but in the end, I won out.
We’d transported Damien to the top of the tower where he was given a fully furnished, albeit basic, room equipped with a bathing chamber. I thanked the gods for that because while the man was admittedly handsome, he had smelt like a pig who’d rolled in his own shit.
The tower was secure. There was no possibility of escape without bypassing numerous guards and enchantments, or jumping from the window. Either way was a sure death, and though Damien hated himself, it seemed he hated being unhelpful even more.
He was deeply engrossed in whatever book he was reading. He’d asked to help with the research in finding a cure for the hex. Ciena and I agreed to lend him some books to pore over. Most of them Ciena and I had already been through, but we hoped that a fresh set of eyes would be the key to finding a cure.
I placed a large key inside the lock and turned, the door groaning as I pushed it open. Damien hardly stirred, only pausing for a moment before turning back to his book.
“Did you find anything new?” I asked, dumping my satchel beside him.
Damien did not look up. “Good morning to you, Renai. I slept well, thank you for asking.”
I rolled my eyes. “Good morning, Damien,” I said, sugary sweet. Though he still did not look up from his book, I saw him smile. “So…Haveyou found anything new?”
He sighed and closed the book before rubbing his temples. “Unfortunately not. At least, not that I can tell despite the extensive notes you and Ciena have both provided. Other than having the witch release me herself, it only talks briefly about a rare potion which could break the hex. Though, of course, there is no mention of what ingredients are needed.”
“There must be something,” I said, tapping my fingers against the wooden desk. “Do you know where any more texts may be held?”
Damien shook his head. “Most of the old witch books were destroyed in the war. The fae feared them getting into the wrong hands.” He picked up the book and examined the leather binding. “The only reason we have these is because Helia upheld a positive relationship with the witches who lived near the base of the mountains before they fled. There was rumor of a book of spells and potions, but it is long gone.”
“Ciena claims to have read it before, but that was centuries ago. The book has long been lost.” I sighed and dropped into a chair nearby. There was another discussion we needed to have—one I was not ready for, but that I needed to get out of the way. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”
He looked up at me, his blue eyes shining. I turned to rummage in my satchel, pulling out a loaf of fresh bread and a small container of butter. Briar had already sliced it. Weapons weren’t allowed in Damien’s rooms, per Alric’s orders.
“Well?” he drawled, picking up two pieces and taking a spoon to spread butter across the bread. He passed one to me, biting into the other.
I took a deep breath. “Eva has taken the throne. She is now queen.”
He paused, the bread halfway to his mouth before he set it down. His brows furrowed, and I knew he was as utterly confused about the revelation as most had been when they heard for the first time. He placed the bread on the table in front of him and closed his eyes, worry evident on his face.
“What happened to the king? Is he alright?” He paused, looking at me. “Is Eva alright? How did she take the news?”
I played with the small ring on my finger, the one made with luminescent pearls brought from the depths of the ocean off of Druiston. It’d been a present from my mother, a reminder of who I was and where I’d come from. “The king is fine. Or as much as he can be given the situation. As for Eva…” I paused, watching the pearls shimmer in the light. “Well, she put up quite a fight from what I hear, though in the end she acquiesced to her father’s wishes. It’s not as if she had a choice.”
I hadn’t seen her since last night. She and Matthew had been spending days alone together, holing themselves up in their rooms while Briar came and went frequently. Silence stretched between us. Damien finally picked up the bread and took a bite. “Why did he pass the crown?” he asked.
I pulled a stoppered carafe out of the small satchel and poured Damien a cup of coffee. His eyes rolled back as he inhaled the sweet aroma. “Gods, that smells divine. I’d almost forgotten how wonderful it can be. It’s my favorite.”
“I know,” I said, smiling as I pulled one more cup from my satchel, pouring my drink next. “Briar told me. I figured you might enjoy it before we begin our training for the day.”
He drank deeply, finishing his drink quickly. After he was done, he sat back in his chair, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “Training?” he quipped, looking me over. “Is that what we are calling it these days?”
I stood, shrugging out of my jacket and rolling up my sleeves slowly. Damien watched me, monitoring each movement with interest. I couldn’t help but smirk. “Well, training for me, perhaps. For you. it is just torture.”
“At least you’re honest,” he said, rolling his eyes before pausing. “You never answered my question—the one about the king?”
Pulling a bundle of rope free of my satchel, I sat it down on the table and leaned against the dark wood. “You’re right. I did not.” He stared at me expectantly, but still I did not answer. Kalen and I had discussed the merits of telling Damien. He’d argued against it, in case Lachlan still had a link to his mind, but I argued he needed to be shown a measure of trust. Regardless of his crimes, Damien had been forthcoming. He was doing anything he could to assist us, often to his own detriment. “I’ll make you a deal—One hour of training for a grand total of five questions. Does that sound fair?”
“Not entirely,” he said, grumbling. “But I suppose I don’t have a choice?” I shook my head. “Of course not. Fine. I accept.” He held out his hand, and I gripped it.
I flashed him a smile. “That wasn’t so difficult. Look at us getting along.” He stuffed the last bite of bread in his mouth, grumbling under his breath about something I couldn’t hear. “Ready to go?” I asked, flexing my fingers in front of me.
Damien nodded and stood, dragging his chair to the center of the room and taking a seat. He watched me closely as I made quick work of tying him to the chair, ensuring the knots were as tight as they could be without completely cutting off his circulation. His gaze was electric, those blue eyes never straying. He grunted as I pulled on the rope one last time. I fought the urge to smile, and his eyes caught mine.
“What’s so funny?” He asked as he sagged against the back of the chair. His legs were spread, tied to the bottom of the chair in a way that showcased how tight his trousers were against his body. It was impossible not to gawk at the way his muscles rippled beneath them. Damien was a good-looking man. He was born and bred to be a soldier; years and years of training had sculpted him so that he looked like a god.
