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“Who?” I hissed.
King Ganglin grabbed a handful of stone, crumbling it to dust as he crushed it inside his palm. “My son.”
“Son?” The word caught in my throat.
King Ganglin only glared with those stunning, deadly green eyes.
“Shouldn’t you be in the Acture Court?” I asked, feeling the blood draining from my face. The godless Fae didn’t deserve to have that sort of control over my emotions, but the angry bite of fear inside me begged to differ.
“Shouldn’t you be dead?” King Ganglin snarled, crouching low to the ground. “Now, don’t make me ask again,” he added. “Where is Randsin?”
Had King Ganglin always viewed his head guard as his own child?
I knew their story, if only vaguely. A tale of Randsin being found, scared and hiding, on the castle grounds. King Ganglin, if only that one time, had taken pity on him, raising him and offering Randsin a title.
There was no noise outside of the sound of blood rushing in my ears. No alarms, or screams of resentful Nymphs seeking revenge on the Heathern Court King. This wasn’t his castle anymore, it was ours. Yet, somehow King Ganglin had made it past their steady watch and patrols. He had found his way inside the castle and didn’t bother to use the front door.
Daethian didn’t watch me, nor did he keep an eye on King Ganglin. Instead, his attention remained fixed on the now-available escape route. I tried not to watch him too closely, worried what King Ganglin would do if I took my eyes off of him.
“Randsin isn’t here,” I finally answered.
“Then where is he?” King Ganglin asked, his tone surprisingly even. Shaggy black hair was messily brushed from his face and his eyes pleaded for an answer. I knew better than to trust the vulnerable look in his gaze.
A small pebble rolled between King Ganglin’s feet. It drew my attention up to where Daethian’s feet were perched on the edge of the broken stone wall. He looked at King Ganglin and then at me. His pupils were dilated, the black bleeding clean through to his iris.
“If you want him, then I won't tell you where he is.” I pursed my lips, stubborn as could be.
“Fine,” King Ganglin growled. “Then I guess I can make you.”
Boots ground into the dirt. He twisted. When his back was turned to me, I sat up and gripped the wood beams. Sharp splinters of wood dug into my palms. Air hissed between my teeth. I pushed.
Someone grunted, more rocks scattered. With my legs free, I pulled myself up, only to find King Ganglin's hand held out and fisted. Daethian slid down the wall, clutching his throat as he tried to gasp for air.
“You’ve always been so...empathetic.” King Ganglin spat.
Daethian’s face bloomed red, his large brown eyes growing bigger as he strained for air. They were brown again.
“Let him go.” Careful not to make any sudden movements, I stood. King Ganglin could kill him if he wanted. He could kill him so easily.
King Ganglin squeezed his fist tighter. A small, pain-filled squeak wheezed out of Daethian’s open mouth.
“Tell me. Now.” It wasn’t a command, but a promise of death if I didn’t answer. It flared in his daring eyes.
“The Acture Court, headed to the castle.” I hurried the words out of my mouth. “Now let him go.”
King Ganglin dropped his hand. His eyebrows furrowed into a deep V that still didn’t wrinkle his smooth skin. Daethian slid to the floor outside of the cell and King Ganglin pushed by him eagerly. The Fae didn’t bother with another look, not as he climbed out of the hole he had created. As his dusty boots disappeared, I scampered over to Daethian.
“Oh, thank the mother. You’re alive. You’re fine.” My hands held his cheeks as he looked back up at me.
Daethian scowled, still wheezing. “But you’re not.” His hand rose, a rock clamped tightly in his fingers collided against my skull.
The room spun, my body folding underneath me.
“I can’t be trapped here anymore,” he breathed.
My vision had gone black and his fading steps could only be heard by some distant part of my mind.
Chapter3
