Page 13 of Bound in Violet Ink

I’m busy biting the inside of my cheek when a scent hits me before Kane even enters. Dark spice. Bloodied steel. Something ancient and wild enough to sink teeth into my nerves.

For a moment, before I see him enter the room, I think I may have dreamed everything. That perhaps I read the room wrong and fell victim to Kane’s manipulation, that even his scent could be some trick, some slow, cruel way to unravel me.

When he enters the room, I don’t look at him. The more I think about it, the more positive I am that he is messing with me. Instead, I notice how Freya behaves with him like Lawrence did with Silas. It’s the only thing about Kane that feels familiar to me. That cold dominance. That unstated threat.

“Mockingbird is successful,” he states.

I’m on my feet faster than I’d like to have been. The habit of moving swiftly when a High Lord speaks is a hard one to break. Kane moves slowly toward me, grabbing my arm as he turns to Freya. “Follow closely.”

The touch of his hand sears through the fabric of my sleeve.

Having such little space between us is distracting, nearly pressing against such a muscled mass of capability.

Once we’re among more of his people, their vicious gazes hotly raking over me, I confirm to myself that no matter what, I’m far from achieving any ounce of safety.

“What’s happening?” I grind out, trying to claim some control here.

A few Unseelie look at me like I’ve just done something terrible for speaking to him in such a way. When their gazes flit up to Kane, they immediately face back ahead and focus on something else.

“We’re leaving,” Kane replies, voice pitched so low only I can hear it.

We don’t stop at the corridor opens wider, stone ceilings soaring up into a network of ancient archways.

“Why did they look at my like that? I ask once there’s enough distance between us.

“I mean, other than the obvious. I feel like I’m missing a social cue and would rather not stand out more than I already do. ”

“You asked me a question,” he says without pausing.

“Are people not allowed to ask you questions?”

“No. They ask Freya or Osman.”

“Why?” I ask, pursing my lips out of decorum now that I know this isn’t allowed. Old habits truly die hard. Not even Silas was this strict.

“It’s not how I desire to reign. Not right now, anyway. My presence should command without a single word. It works best among people who are starving for change.”

There’s something about that statement that hits me all at once.

He’s a real being, with desires, motives, and strategy.

And an ego. My mind immediately aligns him with all the others I met, all the Lords and those that the world reveres from the outside.

So many fail to realize they’re just mortals, even if they live longer than humans.

They obey their own desires like the rest of us.

I fell to that very enigma from Kane, like I’m a commoner.

Panic bubbles like a rolling pot of water that is about to burst in a blooping mess. The only thing to calm me down is knowing that I have to get over it. Silas was sending me to Faust next, so how is this worse?

Survival.

I must reorient my mind if I am to reign triumphant. Mating Kane is a victory compared to the alternative. Fated reasoning, or not.

My shoulders square as I allow him to guide me, holding my head tall. We enter into a vast rotunda, the ceiling stretching high above us into a dome of stained stone and black iron. Thousands of prisoners line the walls, stories upon stories, cages and cells stacked like a grotesque hive.

Kane stops in the center of it all. The ground seems to thrum under my boots.

Many of his people fan out, unlocking the cells in something that appears rehearsed.

The metallic shriek of opening doors fills the air, thickening it, electrifying it.

“A change is coming!” Kane bellows, voice booming through the chamber, commanding absolute, trembling silence.

Freed prisoners drift forward to the railings, clinging to the bars, clinging to hope.

“The Seelie will fall, and I will be standing among their ashes, wearing a new crown.” He turns slowly, allowing those words to soak into the marrow of every soul in the room.

“If your cell has been opened, you are free to follow my people. If you choose not to follow us and go your own path—know this: the duskborn are mine now. They will hunt down any betrayer. Give me no reason to hate you, and you’ll never see me again.

” He lifts his chin slightly, a sovereign accepting inevitable loyalty.

“The rest of you,” he says, voice dipping into pure ice, “will rot in your cages until your final breath.”

A beat of stunned silence—and then chaos. Screams. Metal slamming against stone. The air explodes into violent noises. Kane grabs my arm again, unbothered by the bedlam, and hauls me back through the crumbling hallways.

My mind spins the entire time, overanalyzing everything.

Get off this island. Get away from Silas. That’s all that matters.

I could plan an escape later, once we’re far enough away. The thought barely has time to root itself before I feel a sharp, burning prick at my neck. I turn, startled—the last thing I see are the metallic eyes of Kane as everything goes black.