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GAVIN
Gavin woke to a high-pitched sound ringing inside his ears. Besides the intense headache, the whole room wobbled underneath his body as dizziness wrecked him. He groaned, inching his hands over the hard, cold ground, only to stop when he met resistance around his wrists.
The ropes were tight enough that they bruised his skin, and while he could move his arms, he was clearly bound to the wall behind him. These weren’t just the regular, twisted hemp cords, but the ones the army used—imbued with a spell to repress magic.
At least the room was dark. Tucked in the far corner, a light flickered, away from his sensitive eyes. His breathing sped up as he probed the back of his head with a tentative touch. The pain pulsed to his jaw, like shards of glass embedding themselves in the bone. He sucked a breath through gritted teeth and his fingers touched the sticky texture of blood that matted his hair to his skull.
His symptoms could only mean he had a concussion. But to know how bad it truly was, he needed a rational mind and his magic. His chest hollowed out with a sorrow unlike any he had felt before. The memories of what had happened were within reach, but foggy.
He must be in an underground prison somewhere in Scoria, though there was a possibility they’d brought him to another town in the Obsidian mountains. On their way back to the Iron City—
As soon as that thought entered his mind, he pushed it aside.
They weren’t taking him back to the city. He was going to get killed here.
The six-foot-wide cell was encased by rusty black bars, and a bucket stood in the corner, still caked with waste from the previous occupant.
Gavin studied the dark gray walls, looking for a sharp edge he could use to cut through the ropes. He spotted white scratches running along the stone, some vertical, some crisscrossing in a pattern. Frowning, he leaned closer and discovered remnants of darkened blood smeared over the white streaks. Claw marks, left behind by the poor soul that had been here before.
The rotten scent that clogged the air could only mean one thing. That person had died in here and then been decomposing for a while.
Gavin jolted up onto wobbly feet, and for a split second his vision blackened as the room spun around him. When everything steadied once more, he opened his eyes and met the unnatural golden gaze of the neighboring prisoner. He had a beard so thick it covered most of his features and wore black clothes that blended into the background.
Gavin jumped back with a shout. He slipped over a suspiciously wet patch on the ground and landed on his side with a grunt.
“Are you all right in there?” The deep voice bounced around the room.
Gavin rolled onto his back and swallowed the heavy nausea that surged through his body. He tried to ignore the intensity of his headache, but panic kept rising to the forefront of his mind, making it increasingly hard to do so.
“Just great.” He struggled with the bindings around his wrists, and his magic leached away further, becoming a distant drum beneath his skin. They spelled these chains to subdue a magic-wielder’s power, not too different from the ropes used by the army when they captured enemies.
He stared at the cave-like ceiling above him. The perk of presenting with the healer’s gift was that his body was incredibly efficient at healing itself. It was increasingly difficult to deal with his now dormant power, especially when he needed it most.
The images of what had happened earlier came to him in flashes. Much though it hurt, he couldn’t deny it any longer—Julius’ true nature was out in the open. His betrayal spoke for itself. Gavin’s friend and mentor for the past six years had turned out to be a monster. How could he have got it so wrong?
But amidst all that, the memory of Violet’s lips eased the bitterness that snaked through his gut. Where was she now? Had she made it out all right?
He wondered what lie Julius would spin to his parents when he returned and announced Gavin was dead. Maybe he would blame Violet for it all.
“You’ve been unconscious for a couple of hours,” the man with the golden eyes said, filling the silence. “Looks like you had a nasty blow to the head. Are you well?”
“Well is a stretch. But it won’t be the thing that kills me.”
No wonder Violet acted the way she did. After this betrayal, Gavin wasn’t sure he’d ever be the same. He sat once again, draping his arms over his knees. “How long have you been here? I hope not long enough to have seen the person who was in my cell decompose.”
“Oh, I saw him, all right. They removed the body right before they tossed you in.”
“Great. My day keeps getting better and better.” So the wet spot was unfortunately what he’d thought it might be. He scrunched his nose and pulled himself as far away from it as the ropes would allow.
“Same. The commander dragged me in here with his pawns a night ago and—” He paused, and the distinct sound of metal scraping over stone bounced off the walls. Shackles? Maybe this prisoner wasn’t a magic-wielder? “—actually, I guess I don’t know if it was that long ago. I’ve been in and out of consciousness for a while.”
“What does the commander want from you?”
“He didn’t tell me when he poisoned my drink.” The growl that rolled from him was definitely not human. A shifter.
At the beginning of the day, Gavin wouldn’t have dreamt of finding Julius in Scoria. Now here he was—with Julius poisoning shifters. Every moment seemed to reveal another hidden layer of the man he’d thought he knew so well.
Gavin sat back, staring wide-eyed at the large shape of the man. His unnatural irises made sense now. “Are you from the shifter colony nearby?”
