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And then, softer, as though convincing to himself, "That wasn't her."

Sulien stood there watching as the moon slowly surrendered her grip and Blaidd fell into blackness…

***

Maxen came later.

Sulien, who had never understood how Blaidd could treat Fae like this, stood guard over Blaidd, waiting for answers.

Because as he slept, sobs shook his body as Blaidd cried himself empty.

And still, when dawn finally came, and he slowly came awake, he did not beg for release—only whispered her name into the rough stone floor as though it were the last thing keeping him alive.

Fae.

Chapter 14

Maxen followed Sulien into the holding cell with cautious steps, as if confronting a feral wolf.

They needn't have.

Blaidd lay sprawled naked on the rough stone floor, unconscious, chains slack only because his body had finally given up resisting them. His breathing was shallow but steady, the rise and fall of his chest barely perceptible beneath skin drawn too tight over bone.

His weight loss was alarming considering only three days had passed in starvation and isolation

.

Muscle that had once filled out his frame was gone, burned away by hunger, fever, and relentless strain. His clothes had given up the fight, shredded remnants clinging to a body that looked as though it had been flayed by vengeful claws. Streaks of blood had dried over his arms, legs, and chest, evidence of the torment of the night past.

Sulien stepped closer, heart thudding with fear until he noticed the slight rise and fall of his chest.

Blaidd's hair had grown out over the last month, no longer shaved close to the scalp. Dark strands clung damply to his temples. His beard was overgrown, shadowing a face gaunt from exhaustion. Deep circles bruised the skin beneath his eyes, stark against the pallor of his cheeks.

His arms were stretched above his head, wrists locked in enchanted iron. Dried blood darkened the stone beneath him where the collar and shackles had bitten into his skin, again and again.

Maxen knelt and shook his shoulder gently. "Blaidd."

A groan rasped out of his ruined throat. He slowly turned onto his side with visible effort, muscles trembling on the verge of giving way.

"I'm…awake," Blaidd muttered thickly, though his swollen eyes barely opened.

Maxen's hand moved instinctively to Blaidd's right arm—checking wounds, tracing half-healed punctures where the spikes had torn him open—

And he froze.

His fingers stopped short as he rubbed the bloodstains on his arm.

The skin there was bare.

Maxen's breath caught. "The rune," he whispered. "The rune… Where is it?"

Blaidd's eyes flew open.

He sucked in a sharp breath and pushed himself upright with a low, pained sound, chains clattering as he strained upward. The spikes drove deeper into his wrists and neck, fresh blood seeping through the iron, but he did not seem to notice.

He twisted his arm, craning awkwardly to look at the underside where the mark had once been etched into his flesh.

For a heartbeat, he blinked with unbelieving eyes.