The chill of the dungeon corridors bit at Ariana’s skin as she stepped carefully along the stone path, the torches flickering shadows across the damp walls. She had been ordered to deliver supplies—food, blankets, and a small pouch of herbs—to the prisoners held below Kael’s quarters. It was routine, but something about the corridors always made her uneasy.
The air smelled of iron and old stone, and each echo of her footsteps seemed to grow louder, more threatening in the oppressive silence. The mate bond still throbbed faintly, a subtle pull reminding her that Kael was nearby, yet not physically present. She shivered, pressing the bundle of supplies closer to her chest.
As she reached the far end of the corridor, she approached the iron bars of the cell that had caught her curiosity for
