The aroma of frost greets me before I reach the cage.
Not real frost of course. Not here in the Below. But the echo of it. His scent.
Winter magic rotting in the heat. I breathe it in like it’s perfume.
I would know his smell in my grave.
Cryptgarden is quiet today. It’s as if the fae feel my approach and retreat into the shadows. For the best. I want to see him without an audience.
Later, there will be time for spectacle.
But now… Now, I want to savor this.
My boots are silent against the cracked cobblestones of the menagerie. I feel his magic long before I get close, that unbridled blessing pulsing with power.
Even caged, he’s perfect.
He’s sitting with his back to me, chained and shirtless. Filthy white hair hangs over his spine.
I step closer, dragging the shadows with me. My precious gift for him dangles in my hand.
“Kel,” I say, tasting the name like wine.
He stiffens, a subtle tightening of his shoulders.
I smile.
“You know, I thought you’d appear more broken by now.” I continue pacing in front of the cage. “But you’re still so regal, even in ruin.”
His eyes lift to meet mine, glinting with hatred and something else he won’t name.
Desperation maybe. Memory. Love?
I’ll burn all that out of him soon enough.
“You took your time,” he says.
“And you’re still speaking.” I smile. “How disappointing.”
He shifts, just enough for the chains to rattle. “I figured you’d prefer to hear me scream before you paraded me in front of your little monsters.”
I laugh, low and sharp. Gods, he still has claws. Good. It’s better when they make me bleed back.
“No, no.” I crouch in front of him. “Tonight isn’t about screaming. Not yet. Tonight is about presentation.”
His jaw tightens. “You think humiliating me will win your war?”
“No,” I murmur, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “I think collaring you will remind the realms who holds the leash.”
His eyes flash, full of fury and the kind of fear that makes my blood sing.
I pick the lock with a slim thorn, step inside the cell, and hold up the collar before him. It unfurls like a serpent, woven thorns and black ice.
Kel’s breath hitches.
“Don’t,” he says. “Whip me, beat me, but don’t put that thing on me.”
“But I made it just for you,” I say softly.
