Page 10

Wyvern.

Shit.

“We need to leave. Now.” I lock eyes with Kylo. “They’ve probably nested at the summit.”

He nods, and we set off, vanishing into the night—back to my castle in Umbrahdor, back to my life as a dark prince, and back to serving the crown that was once promised to me.

Goddesses above, what is that smell?I think as I scrub the greenish-brown muck from the washroom floor. How honored I feel to have one of my daily chores here in The Hollows be cleaning this wretched washroom.

I scrub harder when I hear footsteps approaching.

“I am almost done!” I call out, keeping my head down, focusing on the task.

I hear two sets of footsteps creeping closer and closer as I continue to scrub the dirty stone floor.

“You are done now,” an unfamiliar male voice says.

I look up to see two prisoners—a man and a woman, both in the same inmate gray—standing a few feet away. Devious grins twist their faces.

I leap to my feet, clutching the wet cloth. “What do you want?”

They don’t answer. Instead, they rush toward me. I try to dodge, but my bare feet slip on the wet floor, and I stumble. Panic like I never felt before starts to seize me, making a shiver snake up my spine like tiny spiders scurrying along as the man grabs me.

“Your death is a message for Elm,” the man growls as he slams me against the wall, his hand tightening around my throat. “I got the hole because of him.”

The woman snickers, glancing toward the entrance, keeping watch.

I want to scream, but I can’t. Fear blankets me, heavy and suffocating. I claw at his hand, but he’s too strong. The chipped stone digs into my back as his grip tightens. Panic surges through me, seizing my body like a vice. My pulse pounds in my ears, and the room begins to blur.

I’m going to pass out. No—I’m going to die.

“Hurry it up alre—” the woman starts to say, but a sharpthwackcuts her off, followed by a heavier thud. It sounds like a body hitting the ground, but maybe it’s my blood vessels popping in my head from lack of air.

“What the fuck?” the man gasps.

His grip loosens, and I collapse, gasping for air, sucking it down greedily like water on a scorching day. My chest burns with each breath, but I’m alive.

When I look up, Larah is behind my attacker, her palm blade pressed against his throat, pinching the skin.

“It’s okay, Reign. I’ve got you,” she says, her voice soft, but the wild look in her eyes tells me she’s anything but calm.

Tears blur my vision, the salt stinging my cheeks. My breathing steadies, and I finally regain control over my body.

“Go. Back to our cell. I’ll handle this,” Larah says, jerking her head toward the door. “They won’t bother you again.” She digs the blade deeper into the man’s neck, drawing a bead of blood. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” the man whispers, his eyes squeezed shut in fear.

Larah yanks his hair back, pressing the blade harder. “Say it louder.”

“Yes!” he yells, panic lacing his words.

Larah nods toward the exit. “Go on. I’ll clean up the mess.”

I stare at her, my eyes weary. She wouldn’t kill them for trying to harm me, would she? With trembling legs, I step over the unconscious woman by the entrance and make my way back to the cell.

* * *

Elm shows me a move again,his blue eyes calm and patient.