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It hits me then, knocking the air from my lungs.

The rune rages.

I collapse to the floor, bones colliding with marble.

Voices shout.

I don’t know what they’re saying. Can no longer hear them over the drum beating a single word over and over into my mind, my body, my soul.

Mate, mate, mate, mate.

There’s no denying it now.

Gwyn’s my mate.

And she’s been taken from me.

Chapter 37

GWYN

I gasp awake, sucking in a lungful of air.

Iron bars rise up around me, cold and unyielding, set into damp stone walls. It’s dark, the air heavy with mildew and rot. The only light trickles in from a single barred window high above me. I push to my feet, wincing as pain ricochets through my skull, and reach for it. Too high.

My hands tremble as I spin in a slow circle, taking in the space.

Small, empty. Nothing but shadows and iron and stone.

Then—a sound. A faint keening, drifting through the bars to my left.

Another cell.

I squint, trying to make out the shape curled in the corner.

The keening turns into a sniffle.

“Who’s there?” I ask softly. No response. “Are you hurt?”

Again, nothing.

Hesitantly, I approach the bars.

It doesn’t help. The shadows cling too tightly to reveal who—or what—is in there.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I promise, crouching. “I’m Gwyn. Will you come where I can see you?”

There’s a long pause, a shuffle, and then movement.

I jolt back, landing hard on my rear as a female crawls into the sliver of light—blonde hair dirty and matted to her scalp, arms bruised and bloody, legs a strange mix of flesh and scale.

She lifts her face, blue eyes dark as any tide.

“Lyrielle?” I cry, reaching for her through the bars. “Lyrielle!”

Confusion flashes across her face. “How do you know my name?”

What did they do to her to make her forget?