“You’re an ass, Hector,” says the redheaded soldier before looking over his shoulder at me. “These are our council chambers.”
“Alaric,” Hector hisses.
“Relax,” Alaric says. “The man is in chains, and he’s been in a cell for days. He’s broken and weak. The information will not help him—he is not going anywhere.”
Before Hector can protest further, the doors open, and I’m dragged inside.
Like my cell and the tunnels, there are no windows in this room. Torches burn around the cavernous space, and a largerblaze sits in a sunken firepit in the middle of the floor. The flames are several feet tall, providing adequate lighting and heat.
Hushed murmurs come from around me as the soldiers and I stand in the doorway, but all I can see, all I can focus on, is the beautiful woman sitting near the roaring fire.
“Wren,” I whisper hoarsely.
The longest moment seems to pass before she turns her head. Her lovely violet eyes widen, landing on me, and I swear that relief flickers through them.
“Gabriel,” she breathes.
Suns, I have never heard a better sound. Everything I endured no longer matters. My injuries are inconsequential. I could be bleeding out, but it would all be okay if I could hear her say my name again.
And then her gaze shifts. It slides down my face, to where I’m cradling my arm in front of my chest, to the chains. Wren’s face hardens, and her Mark flares a brilliant blue. Sapphires could only dream of achieving such a luminescent color.
She stands, and my spine stiffens. Manacles circle her wrists, a length of rope lies at the foot of the chair she’d been occupying, and a piece of cloth is on the ground beside her. My eyes narrow, focusing on the dried flakes of blood on her wrists.
Blood, because theyhurther.
A wildfire ignites in me. Fury is a brisk wind, shoving aside the panic and agony from earlier, fanning the flames of my anger.
It was one thing for these people to be cruel to me. I’d always known that was a possibility. I’ve done too much, and I’m too closely connected to the Ruby Crown to think that they wouldn’t care when I entered their lands.
But this.
Wren.
My gods-blessed.
How fuckingdarethey?
I thought I’d known rage the day I found Wren cornered by sailors in Saltwater, but that has nothing on the way I feel now.
Anger is sharp and bitter at the back of my mouth. For the first time in my life, I am glad I am my father’s son. The fury rushing through my veins and the revenge in my heart are my birthright.
I will find those who hurt Wren, and I will make them pay. They will feel the pain of what they’ve done to her a hundred times over before I put them out of their misery. I may lack my father’s magic, but I am not powerless. I will not rest until every person who drew Wren’s blood regrets the day they hurt her.
A growl rumbles through the room, and it takes a moment for me to realize it’s coming from my chest.
A sharp yank on my chains has me jerking up my head.
“Unless you want them to kill you where you stand, Hunter, you will collect yourself.” Alaric is staring straight ahead, but tension radiates off him. He is holding the chains with his right hand, and his left rests on his sword in warning. I swallow, the threat clear.
Alaric is right, I can’t lose control right now. Not when Wren needs me. Clearly, she isn’t as safe here as I originally thought.
Swallowing, I unfurl my fist, laying my hand flat at my side. Rage still simmers inside me, but it’s not as powerful as it was.
For Wren, I will keep it in check. I will do anything for her.
Once I’m calmer, I look away, taking in the rest of our surroundings for the first time. Armed men and women with grim expressions and hatred-filled eyes line the walls. They’re all staring at me—several having drawn their weapons.
The air is heavy with the threat of violence. My fingers twitch, and I mourn the lack of my own weapon. If I were armed and my bond with Mist weren’t muted, this situation would be different.
