The dungeons beneath Mooncrest were cold and dark, carved from the mountain rock long before Rowan's grandfather had built the fortress above. They had not been used in years, since the last rogue incursion. But today, they were occupied.
Three rogues had survived the battle. Three had been dragged from the c*****e of the eastern wall and thrown into separate cells. The rest, the dozens who had breached the perimeter, who had scaled the walls, who had surrounded Aria with murder in their eyes, were all dead.
Rowan stood outside the first cell, his arms crossed. Lois was beside him. Inside, the rogue was shackled to a chair, his face a mask of dried blood and defiance. They captured varyn, the one in charge of the the operation.
"Who sent you?" Rowan asked. His voice was dangerously calm
