Page 7 of Claim Me

I sit up in the four-poster bed, my surroundings immediately familiar, as I’ve spent the last thirteen months living in this single space.

It’s not the worst prison cell imaginable. I have a balcony that opens to a courtyard below—not that I’m allowed to go explore it. But at least I can step outside for fresh air. That’s a few steps above being buried alive for days or weeks on end.

Rubbing my hand over my face, I try to force myself into wakefulness.Issy?

Finally,she mutters back at me.I’ve been trying to wake you up for over an hour.

Hmm,I hum back at her, not at all surprised by her comment. The last few years have felt like one long nightmare, only the scenery keeps changing.

I reach over to my nightstand for my water—something I put out last night because I knew I would need it now—and drink the entire cup in a few big gulps.

Most of my “dreams” of late have been about waking up in a grave and inhaling dirt for hours—or days.

That was only one of the ways Klas chose to punish me, but something about it made it the most memorable. And I always woke up from those dreams with a dry throat, as though I were underground again all night.

Slipping out from the silky sheets, I wander over to the en-suite bathroom to refill my water.

Fallon,my sister whispers.

I’m still awake,I reply.

I know. But… but today…She trails off, her uncertainty rolling through my mind as I study myself in the oversized mirror.

My green eyes no longer glow. My blonde hair looks darker now, lacking its former shine. And my skin seems paler somehow.Like death.

Appropriate, given my abilities. Or perhaps it’s a warning of what’s to come.

They’re going to execute him,I say to Issy.Today is just a formality. But I know that’s their plan.

Did one of the phantoms tell you that?she asks, referring to my proverbial prison guards.

They didn’t need to tell me anything. It’s just what has to be done.Klas tried to kill a reigning monarch. It doesn’t matter that the monarch in question is no longer in charge; his successor can’t allow the culprit to live.

An image of said successor fills my mind, his dark hair and matching eyes so similar to Klas’s. And yet the two men look nothing alike.

Klas is all cruel angles and sharp edges.

While King Kaspian is… soulful. Deep. Undeniably handsome.And so incredibly off-limits.

He’s only skimmed the surface of my powers. If I allow him to get closer, he’ll learn things about me that’ll have me sharing a death sentence with Klas.

Which is why I need today to happen.

The sooner Klas is sentenced and executed, the sooner I may be allowed to leave. Unless I die as a result of his death, of course.

I suppose I’ll be free either way, though.Maybe.

King Kaspian and his guards have monitored me for thirteen very long months now. They’ve questioned me repeatedly on what I can do, requested brief demonstrations, and drilled me about my past.

I gave them the truth where I could and lied where I needed to.

“I’m an orphan,” I told them. “I don’t know much about my family history.” It was the story Klas gave them after mating me, saying he found me on one of his mercenary missions.

Fortunately, he hasn’t spoken the truth about our origins while in captivity.

Likely because he’s protecting himself.

If Klas betrays the O’Neely Clan in any way, he’ll be punished long into the afterlife.