The rattle of keys came first, followed by the heavy stomp of boots. Rey's head lifted just as Iver appeared at the end of the corridor, flanked by two guards. His smile was as bright as it was poisonous.
"I see you two have gotten acquainted," he drawled, eyes flicking between Rey and Erik.
The air shifted. Rey didn't miss the way Erik's relaxed posture turned rigid, nor the steel in his glare aimed at Iver. One thing became clear — she wasn't the only one who despised the bastard.
But now that she knew Beau wasn't here in the West Wing, the reality gnawed at her: she'd have to leave the castle entirely to find him. The question was... how?
"Bring her," Iver ordered, his tone dipped in false casualness. "We've a punishment to attend to."
Cold metal clamped around her wrists, and they
