Chapter 8
1433 Words
-SELENE-
My breath caught. The air in the dungeons felt heavier somehow, like the walls were pressing in.
"What do you mean by that? How are the priestesses under the queen’s thumb?" I asked, but my voice came out thin, brittle.
Eerik scooted closer to the wall dividing our cells, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. "The Head Priestess is Queen Maeve’s sister. She claims she’s neutral, says she serves only the gods, but come on, everyone knows that’s crap. The ‘gods’ seem to hate anyone the queen doesn’t like. Especially witches."
I dropped my head into my hands, elbows braced on my knees. "This is bad. So, so bad. What’s her deal with witches anyway? Yeah, some of them can be nasty, but you can’t just lump them all together. That’s straight-up racism."
Eerik let out a puff of air, half disbelief, half agreement. "Yeah. That’s the queen." He leaned closer to the bars, careful not to draw attention. "Years ago, she had a feud with a witch who lived out on the plains. Since then, it’s been downhill for sorcerers in Tharval."
"I knew it! Crazy, vengeful b***h," I muttered. "What happened?"
"I don’t know the whole story," he said, voice low. "Queen Maeve was supposed to marry King Järva. But he shocked everyone when he broke off the engagement. Rumor was, he fell for a witch. I don’t remember her name. Maeve lost it. Claimed the witch had enchanted him. She was sentenced to death, and her body was buried in the forest somewhere. Maeve married Järva anyway."
I pressed my back against the cold metal bars, anger simmering. "And how did the ice queen prove the witch actually cast a spell? Sounds like one of her usual lies."
"Just like she’s trying to do with you now," Mona whispered in my head. Her voice was stronger. I guess the anger was speeding up her healing.
Eerik didn’t answer right away. He just looked at me through the bars, eyes shadowed and tired. "That’s the mystery. But the priestess swore she was guilty."
"Shit." I closed my eyes and took a breath.
"It gets worse, Selene." Eerik’s hand gripped the bar, thick fingers curling around the iron. "Kadi, one of the priestesses, used to date the First Prince. Their families wanted them to marry. But Prince Verelohe broke it off before crossing the portal to your world. She was heartbroken. Joined the priestess order soon after."
Double s**t. "And she’s probably the one they’ll send to ‘attest my innocence,’" I said, making air quotes when I added the last part.
"You think justice matters here?" he murmured. "It doesn’t. Not when the queen’s running a personal vendetta."
My shoulders sagged. I ran a hand through my tangled hair.
"What about King Mart?" I asked, grasping for something—anything. "He seemed decent. And he cared about Lohe. He wouldn’t want to frame his brother’s mate, right?"
When Mart saw Lohe collapse, he looked torn. His brother was sick, and he wasn’t sure if I was involved. He did send me to the dungeons, but he didn’t condemn me outright like his mother did.
"The king’s head is wrapped up in the conflict with the north," Eerik said. "They’re fighting over the mines. They produce Tharva’s steel, the hardest metal in the world. It’s what they used to make these bars, to arm the soldiers. It’s the only thing that can pierce a dragon’s hide."
I glanced at the metal surrounding me. So that’s the weird alloy these bars are made of. It looked solid as hell, and I was glad it didn’t mess with my wolf the way silver did.
"The mines have been ours for thousands of years," Eerik continued. "But the king of Zarvia claims some ancient document proves the land is theirs. Ever since, things have been tense."
"But this all started when his dad was still king, right?" I asked, remembering how Lohe had left his kingdom to rally warriors.
His father hadn’t wanted him to go. They fought hard. I could still see the pain in Lohe’s eyes when he talked about it. That last conversation must’ve been brutal. Pride, duty, anger. And now his father was gone. No chance to fix things. No chance to say what mattered.
Lohe would carry that weight forever. And I might never get the chance to lift it with him.
"Yes, and King Mart’s doing everything he can to avoid war with Zarvia," Eerik said. "But things have gotten ugly, and he’s neck-deep in that mess. So Queen Maeve is free to handle everything else with her perfectly manicured fingers." His mouth tightened. "People think King Mart rules Tharval. But if you look close enough, you’ll see where the crown really shines."
I let out a desperate laugh. "I’m so screwed. And worse, I actually thought I’d be out of here soon. My mate’s sick, and these lunatics don’t believe a word I say."
Eerik’s brow furrowed. "You said he’s got a cold fever?"
"That’s what the healer told us. He couldn’t figure out exactly what happened, just that it was magic. I think it was the chalice we used to cross the portal. Thank the Goddess that thing’s finally drained of its power."
And of course, the ice queen saw me trying to heal Lohe and jumped straight to accusing me of witchcraft.
"I don’t want to pile more on you," Eerik said, voice low, "but cold fever can be lethal to dragon shifters. If they don’t figure out how to reverse the magic soon…"
He didn’t finish. My throat tightened, a cold, invisible hand squeezing it. When I spoke, my voice barely made it out. "But the magic came from the chalice, and it’s gone. They won’t figure this out."
Eerik ran a hand through his thick red beard. "Oh, Selene."
"I need to get out of here!" I said, panic rising as I stood up. "I need to see him. He’s my mate! Being near me could help him heal faster!"
It was probably late afternoon. I’d lost all sense of time, buried under layers and layers of stone and silence.
"Can you feel your healing powers coming back?" Eerik asked. "You said the silver baton messed with them. They use it on anyone they suspect might be a shifter, but the effects usually wear off after a day." His eyes flicked toward the corridor, where guards moved in the distance. "Strange, they haven’t given you a second dose. They usually do with shifters. Maybe they don’t know you’re a wolf."
"I’m feeling better. Still can’t shift, though," Mona said in my head.
"I never told them," I admitted. "They were already in full ‘burn the witch’ mode. I figured telling them I’m a wolf would just throw more fuel on the fire."
Eerik nodded grimly.
"I need to find a way out of this hellhole before Lohe gets worse."
I looked around. No windows. Solid bars. Stone walls. The only way out was through the prison door I’d come in.
Eerik let out a sharp breath and sprang to his feet. "If you get out of the dungeons, could you find Prince Verelohe’s room?"
"I guess. My wolf can scent him from a mile away," I said. "But that doesn’t matter if I can’t get out."
"I’ve got an idea. Tell your wolf to be ready, Selene." Eerik winked, and before I could ask what he meant, he shouted, “Hey! I’m thirsty! I’m dying in here! Just a cup of water, please! I’m a big guy—I sweat like a pig! I’m drying out!"
He kept yelling until the same guard from earlier stomped down the corridor, another one trailing behind.
"Pavar, I warned you. Shut your mouth!" the first guard barked. The second stayed back, silent, watching.
"No! You gotta do something! I’m dying!" Eerik backed up a few steps and raised his voice even louder. "This king’s a sick f**k who tortures his prisoners with hunger and thirst!"
"Shut the f**k up!" the guard snapped, drawing his sword. He pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked Eerik’s cell. "No one insults my king on my watch."
He barely stepped inside before Eerik lunged. They crashed into each other, grunts and curses echoing through the dungeon. The smaller guard rushed in behind, dagger drawn.
Eerik ripped something from the first guard, taking blows from the second like they were mosquito bites. Then—
Clunk.
Something hit the floor in front of my cell.
The keys.
- Writer
