Page 25

Bryony crouched without stepping between my knees. Sensible. Her coat brushed the stone, and her red hair fell forwards over one shoulder.

“Hand flat,” she said. “Keep it there after the cuff opens.”

I placed my palm against the floor. “I won’t move.”

She fitted the key into the iron.

The lock resisted her first turn. I felt Harrowmere testing the choice, waiting for an order or another drop of her blood. Bryony gave it neither. She tightened her grip and turned the key because she’d decided to do it.

The cuff opened.

Iron fell away from my wrist and struck the dais. Pain left so quickly that relief travelled through the bond in a hard rush.

Bryony rocked back on her heels. I kept my hand exactly where I’d put it.

A red mark remained around my wrist, but it wasn’t another restraint. The skin underneath was raw, split and stained with old blood.

She looked at it for one second too long. “Can you heal that now?”

“The flask will start it. More blood would make it faster, but faster isn’t worth bringing you closer.”

Her eyes lifted to mine. “Good answer.”

She stood and backed beyond my reach before I moved my arm. Trust warmed the bond. It was small, cautious and far more dangerous to me than hunger.

I flexed my fingers. After more than a century in fucking iron, the simple movement felt obscene.

Bryony noticed my expression. “Enjoying yourself?”

“More than a man should enjoy moving his own wrist. The other five chains should prevent me getting carried away.”

Her mouth curved before she turned towards the base of the throne. The tension eased, but neither of us mistook that for safety.

The raven seal waited near the floor, half-hidden by the carved stone. I could reach it now. The chain at my waist still held me against the dais, and my left wrist and both ankles remained fixed.

“Use the old key when I touch the raven,” I said. “If the service door opens, stay behind me until we see what’s on the other side.”

“You can’t stand in front of me from there.”

“Then stay out of the doorway. I’m working with limited options.”

She took the old key from the case and positioned herself beside the throne, close enough for our shoulders to touch if either of us leaned in.

I pressed my palm to the raven.

The tattoos across my back burned. The court recognised its king, then reached for the human authority beside me. Bryony fitted Edith’s key into a narrow slot above my hand.

“Together?” she asked. “Turn it.”

She did.

Stone shifted behind the dais. A narrow door opened on a passage lit by low red lamps. Warm air moved through it, carrying clean water, woodsmoke and the faint scent of the warded garden.

Relief hit Bryony first. It reached me through the bond before she let it show on her face.

“Does that lead upstairs?”

“Eventually. It crosses the royal rooms and joins the old service stair beyond the lower court.” I tested the chain at my waist. It stopped me before the threshold. “You can take the case and go. Keep away from the Crown, and don’t let Adrian convince you that freeing me requires wearing it.”