A Bond of Hate

Chapter 2

I press my fingers to my eye sockets, trying to stem the pounding in my head. A ragged breath escapes my lips. “You’re joking. Tell me you’re joking.”

“My sense of humour is better than that.”

I let out an exasperated laugh, a sound full of frustration rather than amusement. “You want me to steal something for you, yet you refuse to tell me what?”

“Of course I’ll tell you,” he says, leaning back against the cold stone wall. “When you agree to help.”

I can’t help but laugh again, this time louder, harsher. It echoes off the walls of the dungeon, reverberating in the small space. “You’re breaking at least a dozen ethical codes, do you know that?” I say, puffing out a breath of irritation. “It’s called informed consent. I refuse to get into a bargain with you blind.”

His eyes darken, and his voice drops to a threatening murmur. “Then let me help you out. You will agree, or I will charge you on accounts of grand larceny, breaking and entering, and vandalism—and that’s only for the crimes we know of. I’m sure there’s a dozen more hiding under your belt, and we both know I have the means of uncovering them all.”

His words send a chill down my spine. “I’ll make sure the next time you see the sun,” he continues, his voice low and dangerous, “it will be on the day we finally drag your lifeless body out of here to bury you with all the other criminals.”

A slight tremor runs through me, but I force a smile. “All that for breaking your heart?”

He steps closer, his presence overwhelming in the tight space, his power radiating off him like heat from a fire. I can feel it, the weight of his authority, the way it bears down on me, suffocating and inescapable. “Oh baby,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl, “we don’t have enough days in the year for me to even begin punishing you for that.”

The words hang in the air between us, thick with the tension of our shared history. Memories of whispered promises and stolen kisses flash through my mind, but I shove them aside, refusing to let them weaken me. I meet his gaze, refusing to back down.

“So will you cooperate, or am I just wasting my time?”

I laugh, the sound sharp and mirthless, reverberating throughout the quiet dungeon, promising dangerous things. “I must admit, you always knew just the right words to get me hot,” I grit out, looking up at him through my lashes, giving him a dark, scathing look. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

He holds my gaze for a moment longer, as if searching for something in my eyes before he nods curtly and turns on his heel, leaving the cell without another word. I watch him go, my heart pounding in my chest, the gravity of what I’ve just agreed to sinking in.

Hours pass, maybe even minutes—I couldn’t possibly tell—and the oppressive silence of the dungeon presses down on me. My thoughts swirl with questions—what does he want me to steal? Why does he need me for this job? And what will happen now that I’ve accepted his proposal? But no answers come, only the sound of my own breathing, echoing in the darkness.

Finally, a group of guards arrives, opening the gate to my cell. “Follow us,” one of them orders, his voice devoid of emotion.

“Where are you taking me?” I ask, my voice tinged with wariness.

The guard doesn’t answer, simply repeats, “Follow us.”

I hesitate, then relent, knowing I have little choice. I follow them through the twisting corridors of the castle, taking in everything. Nothing’s changed, really. It’s still the same place I left five years ago. As we walked, several eyes from servants and guards followed us. I even made out some of what they were saying.

“Is she a criminal?”

“Wait, she looks familiar...”

“Is that... the King’s ex-lover?”

“You think?”

“What was her name again?”

Finally, they led me to a room in the East Wing, and I nearly laughed. The East Wing is where the King entertains his guests, and it’s far from the King’s quarters in the West Wing. I can’t help but note the distance he’s put between us, even now.

The room is no bigger than a closet, a small cot fit for a child, a tiny writing desk and a single square window facing the forest above the bed, which is how I know it was Caspen who selected this room for me. Mocking me by cutting off my view of the castle grounds in case I get any ideas of escape. It’s nothing more than a servant’s room, plain and unadorned and far-cry from my old room beside his. Smiling I close the window, shaking my head. “Touché, Caspian. Touché.”

As I’m looking around, I feel a shift in the air—a familiar, unsettling sensation. Instinct kicks in, and I draw my dagger with lightning-quick speed, sending it sailing toward the intruder.

The blade embeds itself in the doorframe, just inches from the man’s eyes.

Recognition flares in my chest as I meet his gaze. Lyle, Caspian’s high advisor, stands in the doorway, his expression a mix of irritation and amusement. He pulls the dagger from the wood, examining it with a critical eye.

“You’ve gotten rusty,” he says, his voice tinged with disappointment.

“That was a warning shot,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest.

He tilts his head, regarding me with a look that borders on pity. “Caspian did say you were back. I can’t say I wasn’t hoping he’d been hallucinating. But I guess you’re real enough.”

I roll my eyes, leaning back against the wall. “It’s good to see you too, Lyle.”

“There’s nothing good about you traipsing back into Caspian’s life again, Farryn.” His words hit me like a slap, and my jaw clenches in response.

“I never asked to be here,” I snap, my voice tight with anger.

“But you’re certainly not in any hurry to leave, are you?” Lyle’s tone is cold, cutting. “Do us all a favour, would you, Farryn? Finish what you came here for and then disappear. Away from this kingdom and, away from the King. He’s only just gotten over not flinching every time he hears your name.”

His words cut deeper than I’d like to admit. I look down, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat.

“But know this,” he says, his voice low and deadly serious, “if you leave here with his bleeding heart, I will hunt you down, Farryn, and not even Caspian could save you from my wrath.”

I lift my head, meeting his gaze with as much steel as I can muster. “I’m not here to hurt him, Lyle.”

“Good,” he replies, slipping the dagger I'd stolen from one of his men back into its sheath and turning to leave. “You wouldn’t still be here if you did.”