Page 74

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The chisel smashed into the adamant wall, sending fractures in every direction.

Areanel stood in front of the mirror, and as the numbing, empty, and hopeless feeling began to claw at her, she gripped the counter so hard she almost cracked the porcelain.

Measuring her breaths, she tried to contain her rising emotions.

Inhale. Exhale.

Inhale. Exhale.

Areanel forced her mind to calm, and once again built her mental wall. Patching up the cracks and fractures, she cemented it until there were no visible cracks.

With one final, heavy sigh—and a quick glance at her dull eyes—Areanel widened her smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes and exited the bathroom, ready to face the next task.

Boots slammed against aged stone steps.

Areanel made her way down the spiralling staircase to the deepest parts of the castle. She had been given an order: gather information from the prisoner by whatever means necessary. Still, she had her own motivations: she needed to uncover what the Chieftain of Vennedove had been providing the rebels. How had he, specifically, helped them—and why?

Did he know where their base was? If he was now in hiding, Areanel suspected he knew far more than they had originally found.

She would go to any length to find him… even if her father forbade it.

As Areanel descended deeper into the mountain palace, her heart hammered. The further she went, the more unadorned her surroundings became. From decorated white marble walls and floors with beams of natural light to the dark, claustrophobic stone, identifiable with The Pit. No, this wasn’t Areanel’s home at all.

Areanel had already met with Ryyen, her spymaster, and instructed them to have the prisoner brought to the interrogation room. She worried that Ryyen wouldn’t enjoy this part of the questioning and had asked them to leave after the transfer was complete, so she was surprised to find them leaning against the iron door marking the interrogation chamber. It was a vice to her heart. Would they really stay for her?

Though they were known to many as The Skin-Walker and were an integral part of Areanel’s personal cadre, composed of a small group of close combatants, Ryyen was more than that to Areanel. They were her closest confidant—friends since childhood, ever since they first met in the barracks. Areanel shouldn’t have been surprised that they had stayed.

The firelight glinted off the blade Ryyen used to pick their nails, and boredom was the only expression clear on their face as Areanel drew closer. Typical, yet the corner of Areanel’s lips jerked up into a half-smile.

As a shapeshifter, Ryyen did not identify with a specific gender—and it made them excellent at their job. Constantly switching forms came as naturally to Ryyen as breathing. Still, over the years, Areanel had noticed that they had a preferred look outside of missions. This is the appearance that greeted Areanel.

Raising her chin high and pushing her shoulders back, Areanel locked the niggling anxiety she always had when venturing down to The Pit away and prayed her racing heart had stopped hammering.

Striding towards Ryyen, who kicked off the wall and sheathed their dagger at their hip upon seeing her, Areanel focused on the swish of their shoulder-length hair. The dark hue has a glossy sheen, and Areanel found herself wondering how they always seemed to be so polished and composed. They often reminded her of Nymlaris.

‘Took you long enough,’ Ryyen said, drawing her attention. Their voice overlapped, as though several spoke at once. Areanel had gotten used to hearing Ryyen’s unique tone, and it didn’t bother her, but she realised how effective it was when interrogating someone. It unnerved many, inducing horror and dread. Highly useful when needed.

‘I thought you enjoyed quiet time alone?’ Areanel found herself joking. It wasn’t often Ryyen and Areanel could spend any more than a few minutes in each other’s company, both always so busy.

The crow’s feet at the corner of Ryyen’s upturned eyes crinkled with silent amusement. Their natural eyes would forever be noticeable—completely black, deep voids with no pupils or visible sclera. It was often hard to know their true reaction, but Areanel had learned to read them over the years.

‘Ha! Very funny! If you wanted some more time alone with that handsome husband of yours, you could have just asked,’ Ryyen deadpanned.

They were trying to lighten the mood, and Areanel was glad. The Pit, just feet away, was sending her nerves into overdrive. Sweat already began to bead along her temple. Ryyen understood how Areanel dreaded coming down here, even if she wasn’t going to enter the damned prison.

‘Shall we, General?’ Ryyen gave a mock bow, their unnaturally dark hair falling in front of their face as they gestured to the iron door behind them.

Areanel stopped for a split second. This isn’t the entrance to The Pit. It just looks the same. This is just a room. Areanel fortified her mind, reassuring herself. Still, she took a long, deep, steadying breath before twisting the handle.

The iron door screeched open on its hinges, scraping along the dirt-ridden floor, making the hairs at the back of her neck stand on edge. The sound formed a purpose—to overstimulate the prisoner who had been kept waiting, alone, in the dark and quiet for too long.

With their anxiety high, Areanel would hopefully pry information from them quickly, with ease. With any luck, by the end of the interrogation, she would know who was hiding the chieftain and what the rebels planned next.

Ryyen settled on a shorter height, slipping their dancer’s body—lean but fit—through the small gap, letting the door shut with a slam behind them. Their steps were agile and lithe. Silent against the worn stone so as not to let the prisoner know they were there at all, keeping to the dark shadows.

The frigid room was designed to replicate the cells within The Pit, intended to disconcert and unsettle prisoners. The only difference was that, in this room, a metal table waited at its centre. There was no light besides the torch Ryyen had lit and placed in the sconce beside the door, and it cast an eerie, orange glow, making the shadows dance ominously.