Page 11 of A Bond of Ice and Glass (Crowned By Wings #2)

T he dungeon smell hits me first. And then the groaning.

The endless whimpering of those trapped inside.

I thought I knew suffering. But the slums were nothing compared to this. At least there the smell had somewhere to go. Down here, even at the entrance, the air hangs heavy and unmoving, like the stench has been frozen in it.

If suffering had a scent, then this would be it.

I don’t hold my breath or cover my nose, though I want to. I refuse to be the only one to do it. Even Nymala appears immune to the stench as we follow Noble down the narrow passageway, his blue cloak billowing behind him.

Lochlan greets us at the dungeon gate. He holds a single torch that flickers when he steps forward. The guards manning the gate each stand beneath similar torches wedged into the wall. Grime coats the stone, glistening black under the firelight. The groans grow even louder.

I keep my hands clenched at my sides. I’m already regretting this. But Loch said I might be able to help him, and after everything he’s done for me, the least I can do is try. I need to stay strong.

I smile when our eyes meet. Even in the dim light, he reads me. That familiar line etches between his brows when he steps closer.

“You don’t have to do this. If you’re not ready, we can come back and?—”

“I’m fine,” I say, sharper than I meant. “I want to help. I mean, I can’t promise I’ll be able to control this… magic, curse, gift, whatever it is… but I want to try.”

Noble leans against the wall beside me, one foot tucked under him, his arms crossed. “Thought you said our ice princess was made of strong stuff?”

I frown at the nickname, but he only grins.

“She is,” Loch growls. “I just don’t want her in a room with murderers and ra?—”

He cuts off, but I catch what he meant. Murderers and rapists.

The worst kind of criminals. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared.

According to Lochlan, these were soldiers who had committed unspeakable war crimes.

Crimes he couldn’t even talk about without anger choking him.

I understand why he’s hesitant. But I need to prove I’m more than a burden.

“Loch, I’ll be fine.” I offer another smile. “Besides, we have a powerful witch to protect us.”

Both men glare over my shoulder to where Nymala stands in my shadow.

“Hey, it’s a bit early for compliments,” she replies dryly, “but I’ll accept them nonetheless, thank you.”

Her words make me smile a little. Lochlan and Noble continue glaring at her.

The tension thickens, hanging over us like a blade about to drop. Why can’t Lochlan just trust me? I’ve never doubted him, not once, but he always seems to doubt me. Does he truly think I’m that weak?

“Just trust me, Loch. I trust you.”

He gives in with a nod, but the slight hesitation when he turns betrays his doubt. His doubt just makes me want to prove him wrong even more.

He turns on his heel and nods to a guard.

The rusted iron gate slowly creaks open.

Lochlan steps through first, followed by Noble, who winks at me in passing.

He’s so different from his brother. The way they carry themselves, you’d think Noble was the bastard-born.

Even the guards snap to Lochlan’s orders.

They unlock several gates until we reach the far end of the prison.

The light grows less and less with every step. The moans and chains scrape even louder. My stomach turns. I focus on breathing through my mouth and doing arithmetic in my head as a distraction. Anything to avoid the clawed hands that reach through the bars for help.

The smell I can just about ignore.

It’s the sound of suffering I can’t drown out.

Not like Nymala, who hums beside me, or the brothers, who speak low and casually to each other.

As if we’re anywhere but here.

They must come often. Probably immune to the smell. I don’t think I could ever get used to this. Even my parents’ dungeon had been more humane. The one time I visited.

I glance at the guards patrolling the cells. All heavily armoured, faces obscured behind spiked black helmets. Their weapons gleam in what little light there is. The air, despite the space, is still thick. Still rancid.

As we pass the final cells, one of the guards scrapes his spear along the bars and barks a warning at the inmates. He kicks through the bars and strikes something. A clawed hand pulls back. A woman inside screams. I freeze.

Begging. Screaming. Pleading for mercy.

Nobody ever listened to me either. In fact, the sisters enjoyed it, so I stayed quiet in the end. The woman behind the bars wails, and I jump.

“We’re almost there,” Lochlan says, gently touching my arm. “You sure you still want to do this?”

I nod. He studies me for a moment, then nods back.

He takes my hand and leads me forward, down a corridor where the light thins to nothing.

We step into a wide-open chamber with two cells at the end, flanked by guards on either side.

The only light comes from the lanterns beside the doors and the torch in Lochlan’s hand.

Its soft glow catches on the iron bars. And the pair of shackled hands that grip them.

“These ones are the worst,” Lochlan murmurs. “They led the attack on the Wyrmfrost Mountains. Burned the temples to the ground. Left no survivors.”

I swallow the bile clawing its way up my throat.

“They know where Erax next plans to attack,” Noble adds, walking beside me. “But none of them will speak. We’ve tried everything.”

“Not everything,” Lochlan counters. His eyes flash to me, and the side of his mouth tugs in a smile. “Don’t worry. We just need you to help loosen their tongues. I’ll handle the rest.”

I nod, but inside, my heart drops. Erax’s cruelty will never cease to horrify me. And I’m married to him. It still feels like I’m trapped in a nightmare.

Lochlan stops outside the chamber and lets go of my hand. I instinctively wrap my hands around myself, gripping tightly until I can feel my nails digging into my arms. What if I can’t use my power the way they need me to? I don’t even know how I came to have this power let alone harness it.

Ignoring the smell of rot and faeces, I peer into the cell.

Six warriors are slumped against the farthest wall.

Another rocks in the corner, while the one who grips the bars remains standing, his pale, gaunt face half-hidden in shadows.

All their black and gold uniforms are tattered and their eyes deeply hollow.

The one in the corner lifts his head at the sound of our arrival.

His face is so badly beaten he looks more like a beast than man.

He clutches his ribs, whimpering as he resumes his rocking. They all look so broken, and yet…

“I thought they’d look more?—”

“Like monsters?” Noble offers, moving beside me. “Not every monster has claws and fangs. Sometimes they just need orders and no conscience.”

A guard whacks the hands on the bars. The soldier yanks them back and drops to the floor, cowering from the gate.

“You,” Lochlan calls out to him. “What’s your name?”

The man lifts his chin but doesn’t answer.

“Aren’t you fed up in here?” Lochlan crouches by the bars, his tone of voice the same he used to comfort me. But his words are far from comforting. “Don’t you want to be free of this suffering?”

Something flickers in the man’s empty eyes. Hope, maybe?

“I bet you want nothing more than to wash off all this filth and eat a nice warm home-cooked meal. Probably sick of all this gruel, right?”

There’s a twitch, just the smallest twitch of the man’s face, and Lochlan smiles. He looks up at us.

“See? They’re still just men. Still craving the same comforts as us.” He turns back slowly to the prisoners. “But that doesn’t make them innocent. Does it?”

The one in the corner stops rocking.

They’re all watching and listening to him now. But still, none of them speak.

Noble shakes his head. “They’re not going to talk. We’re wasting time.”

Lochlan gives a frustrated sigh and stands up, wiping his knees. “Then we need to make them.” He turns to me, his voice lowering. “This is your chance. Just do what you did at the market. Touch the bars and let it flow through you. Don’t hold it back.”

I look at the prisoners again—at all their terrified, starved faces—my stomach heaving.

They said they wanted me to help get them answers, but what if I go too far?

I mean, I didn’t mean to freeze the market.

I didn’t even know I could do it. What if I can’t control my power? Lochlan touches my shoulder gently.

“You can do this, Lena. I know you can.”

I blink into soft brown eyes that always looked so warm in the light.

They don’t look warm anymore. Not down here. They look cold, hardened by whatever he’s gone through. Has he really changed so much since the convent?

“You can do this,” he adds in a whisper.

I nod and step forward, reaching for the nearest bar.

Even if nothing happens, I have to try…

If I could just help him, maybe it will bring back the Lochlan I remember.

I wrap my fingers around the metal and close my eyes.

The magic comes quickly, too quickly, like the metal is drinking in my fear.

The cold rushes down my arms into my hands, turning my fingertips numb again.

When I open my eyes, icy tendrils shoot across the bar like frosted spider webs, moving outward until they reach the ceiling and floor.

And then the frost spreads further, clawing its way to the prisoners.

They shrink back as far as they can, but my eyes are locked on the one who refused to give his name. If I can just get him to speak, maybe this will end, and I won’t need to hurt the others.

He stands still, his breath fogging with each exhale. His eyes widen as they lock with mine, and silent, choked-back sobs tear from his throat. His skin turns a deep blueish-grey. I want to pull back, to let go of the bar, but I can’t stop. I can’t even move, I’m?—