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25
DAGEN
Dagen could hear the roar of the battle. It set his teeth on edge. At any moment, these stone walls could crash down around him, and there was nothing he could do but cower beneath the force of it. He’d never felt more powerless in his life.
He was Lord Dagen. As King Midas’s closest confidante, he’d always enjoyed the privileges of power. He always had a say in everything that happened in court, even in the realm beyond. Queen Norah did not know who she was dealing with, and he could not wait to show her that he was not someone who could be trifled with.
He’d cut her down if he had to.
First, of course, he had to get out of this cell.
There must be a way, even if it seemed impossible. These cells had been crafted specifically to prevent a fae from escaping, regardless of the power running through their veins. But there was always a way.
He thought of Bree, and the way she’d looked at him when she’d realized he would never back down against a false king. Taveon did not deserve to rule, and neither did Norah. Lord Dagen was the only one with any claim to that throne. Certainly, he had not put forth a champion when Midas had died, but he’d hoped then that Taveon could be a strong ruler.
How wrong he’d been.
The dark fae deserved better than a demon king.
They certainly deserved better than a light fae queen, too. Norah knew next to nothing about Underworld. Hell, she barely knew anything about Otherworld, and she was ruling that realm because of some sort of misplaced loyalty the fae had to her mother. Besides, he thought with a frown, she was a woman.
Women did not know how to rule.
No. It was Dagen and Dagen alone. No one else was good enough to rule this court. The rest of the dark fae would agree, if they were given the chance to express their feelings on the matter. Instead, Norah had seized control of this world while everyone else was distracted by the terrible threat that was now on their doorstep.
But Lord Dagen was not someone who could be trifled with. He would get out of this dungeon, and he would make them pay for this. Even Bree.
Hinges creaked from down the passageway. Dagen jumped up from the minuscule cot and pressed himself up against the bars to peer down into the shadowy gloom. Boots clacked against the stone as a thin figure approached him. Dagen pressed his lips together when he spotted the silhouette. He’d recognize that figure anywhere.
“Fillan,” Dagen said dryly. “Fancy seeing you in this godforsaken hellhole.”
“I couldn’t very well leave my favorite dark fae trapped behind bars, now could I?” Fillan asked as he breezed into view. He was cloaked and masked, like always, the dark material sweeping around his black shoes. With a chuckle, he came to a stop just outside of Dagen’s cell, lifted up a ring of rusted keys, and jingled them in Dagen’s face. “This wasn’t part of our agreement.”
“Indeed.” Dagen gave him a level stare. “I thought you were working on Bree. She’s acted...”
“Feisty?” Fillan chuckled again. “Yes, it seems she’s not thrilled with being manipulated, least of all by someone she thought she could trust.”
Dagen folded his arms. “Are you referring to me or to yourself?”
“She never trusted me, even though she followed my cues beautifully.”
Dagen knew all about Fillan’s cues. He’d helped Bree win the champion battle so that Taveon would become king, just so he could tear the halfbreed down at precisely the right moment. At first, Fillan had only suspected the truth about Taveon’s heritage. He’d used Bree for that, too. She’d never confirmed it to him, of course, but he’d asked enough questions and made enough hints that her eyes had given the truth away.
Bree never had been good at keeping a poker face.
As Fillan moved to unlock the cell, Dagen just had one question for the strange man. “I have to ask. What are you trying to accomplish with this? You never told me.”
“Do you share all your secrets, Lord Dagen?”
“If I’m going to give you more gold and sit on that throne because of your machinations, then I daresay I deserve to know your motivations here, Fillan.”
The lock clicked, and the cell door swung wide, hinges creaking in the eerie silence. For a moment, Dagen assumed that Fillan would refuse to answer, just as he always had. He did not let anyone see his face or know his mind, though Dagen knew he’d exposed the former to Bree. Whatever he wanted, the truth would likely die with him.
“I want your gold, so that I can buy my freedom.” Fillan’s voice went sharp. “King Midas owned me when he was alive, and he forced me to do his every bidding. I killed for him, not because I wanted to but because I had no other choice.”
Dagen gaped at the strange fae as he shuffled out of the dungeon cell. “I don’t understand. Midas is dead.”
“Midas put a stipulation in my contract.” Fillan sighed and folded his arms. “You see, my contract was to be passed down to his son, and I was to ensure Taveon sat on the throne.”
