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CHAPTER TWELVE

K heir had shovelled horse shit in his early days in the V’haivan army, starting at the bottom of the ranks because even a Sin Rizian wasn’t allowed special treatment. He’d been in shitholes and trenches and rescued kidnapped women from caves that stank of foul, decomposing animals. He’d been locked in the dank prison of the Delakore Palace, only liberated by his mate. And he’d rather go back to shovelling shit and wading through muck than stay in this place.

“How long do they expect to keep us locked up here?” he mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest as he stood at the ornate double-doors that opened onto a crumbling balcony. He’d tried climbing down it, but the violent waterfall that crashed over the side of the building from far above made escape impossible. He’d have washed away and wound up dead if it wasn’t for Ark.

“I can feel it again,” the guard-turned-rebel-general said from where he sat stiffly in the tattered brocade armchair across the suite, his short gold hair mussed. The fabrics were fine, and so were the columns, the moulding on the walls, and the gild edges, but everything was worn and faded and falling apart. Luxury left to ruin. “Here.” Ark knocked a fist against his breastbone.

Kheir turned from the window and tried to sense what Ark did. He hadn’t felt it the last few times, either. He could barely sense his mate, her soul faint and far from him. Wherever she was being kept, it wasn’t nearby, and that fact made Kheir want to trash this entire room. He stalked away from the balcony window and threw himself down on the edge of the bed. The soft green sheets were dusty and old, the gold thread unravelled from its pattern. It wasn’t any craftsmanship Kheir recognised.

His wings itched where he’d hidden them within his skin, the foreign sensation unnatural after so many years showing them proudly. But he couldn’t risk the saints getting hold of his vulnerability.

“Describe it,” he asked Ark, meeting the guard’s solemn eyes. He kept sensing something from Maia, a deep, gnawing pain, and just the suggestion that someone was hurting her made Kheir want to scream. His wings itched under his skin, tucked away because no way in the dark chasm was he letting the saints get their hands on his weakness. But they already had his biggest weakness, his mate. His bright burning star. Had they already dimmed her light? She was still alive—he would have felt it if they’d killed her. It was the only thing that kept him sane.

Ark sighed, rubbing that spot on his chest. “I can feel her here, like a dull pain scraping through my chest right over my heart. If it’s like last time, it will last an hour or two. It’s not agony but it’s deep and undeniably pain.”

“What the fuck are they doing to her?” Kheir hissed, dropping his head into his hands. Hopelessness threatened to drown him. The room was locked, and neither of their attempts to smash the damn door open had worked. They were trapped in here, separated from Maia, and that pain Ark felt said she needed them. She needed Kheir, and he couldn’t go to her, and it fucking killed him. He massaged a pain in his own chest, his heart clenched tight.

“When he comes back,” Ark began quietly, because they didn’t know if the saints were listening, “we’ll try to overpower him.”

“Again,” Kheir muttered, shifting his weight and ignoring the sharp flash that went up his ribs. Courtesy of Vawn. Kheir wished they’d left the bastard in the saints' circle instead of trying to save him. He was stronger than Ark and Kheir put together, as proven by their last attempt at getting out of this room. The saints had done something to him; he was too strong, too fast.

“We fucked up by trying to fight him,” Ark said with that clarity of his. The wisdom he’d been granted because he was the Lady Justice reincarnated. And Kheir? The Archer, saint of love in all kinds. He failed to see how having the power of love would help him escape.

Well, that wasn’t true. He had one idea, he just hated it.

Ark met his eyes, met the agony squeezing Kheir’s chest. “We need to take a different approach.”

“I have something but it’s… repulsive.”

Ark watched him closely, leaned forward in the chair with his arms resting on his knees. They’d both been given clean clothes, allowed access to water even if it wasn’t particularly clear, and provided with food even if it was tasteless and cold. They’d been treated well, not strung up and interrogated like he’d expected, or turned into some mindless beast like Vawn, who seemed to leap at the saints’ every command.

“Tell me,” Ark said quietly, intensely.

“I’m the saint of love reborn,” Kheir murmured, so his voice only carried to Ark. “What if that’s not just a title? What if it’s magic? I could…” He forced the words out. “Seduce Vawn. Make him love me, then use him to get us out. He must know where they’re keeping Maia and the others.”

“Nowhere nearby,” Ark muttered, running a hand over his short beard. He looked more rugged than when they’d been dumped in this room, a little haggard, a little wild. Kheir wasn’t much better. He was a far cry from the refined prince he’d been when he arrived in Vassalaer. “We can try something else,” Ark said, catching Kheir’s eyes, so compassionate it made his chest hurt worse. “Leave your idea as a last resort.”

He suppressed a wince and nodded. He didn’t want to manipulate anyone that way, but if it got them out of here and back with their mate, he would do it. “What if—”

They both tensed when the rattle of a key in the lock came from the other side of the tarnished door. Kheir leapt to his feet at the same time Ark rose and reached for a sword that had been confiscated. Kheir’s weapons had been taken, too. When they woke up here, they were muddy, blood-stained, and unarmed in their gilded prison. Unlike the man who stepped through the door with a flat, empty expression and leathers that had seen much better days. His brown hair was tied up in a bun, making the carved features on his sun-gold face more severe.

The emptiness sent a claw of ice down Kheir’s spine, and as it always did when their eyes connected, a ripple went through him. Unease or panic or some deeper, baser warning.

Vawn kicked the door shut behind him—it locked with a solid thump of metal tumblers—and carried a silver tray with two plates to the table beside the window. Sunlight made him as gilded and tarnished as the room, warming his skin, bringing out threads of gold in his brown hair.

“Hello again, gents,” he greeted, the flat vacancy in his eyes clearing to reveal something haunted but defiant. “Dinner is served. It’s shocking as always, probably not up to your princely standards, but I reckon you’ve had worse, guard.”

Leaving the plates on the table, Vawn crossed the room to lean against the wall beside a tapestry aged and dust-covered. It depicted a parade of fae, but Kheir hadn’t been able to place their origin. It could have been Aether, could have been Vassal.

“What do you want today?” Ark asked, his hands loose at his sides and steady eyes watching Vawn.

Vawn’s mouth twitched. “Our glorious leaders would like Kheir to write a letter. Ark, you can eat.” The words were direct, the edge of his voice honed and deadly. Kheir hadn’t known the rebel possessed that magic when they stormed the palace to rescue Maia. He wondered if Azrail even knew Vawn’s magic could control a person’s mind. A blunter, indelicate echo of Maia’s snaresong. And he could never, ever discover Kheir’s ability to shield.

So Ark walked to the table by the window without complaint, sat, and ate the vaguely brown offering in the bowl Vawn had brought. Kheir watched Vawn warily, unable to keep the expression off his face even with years of political education. He’d done a better job of it in the Delakore Palace but a lot had happened since then. His mate had been taken fuck knows where, was being hurt right now. And Vawn was a cog in the machine that let that happen. Was the bastard they’d come to rescue.

“What kind of letter?” he asked freely, since Vawn hadn’t issued a command to him yet.

In response, Vawn reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a piece of thick paper, an envelope, a pen, wax, and a seal. It was the Sin Rivian seal that made Kheir stand straighter, taking a slow breath to manage his rage.

“Friends in high places,” Vawn said with the ghost of a smirk, answering Kheir’s unspoken question of how the fuck he’d got that. He passed the pen and paper to Kheir, who warily accepted them.

“I can’t believe we went to Venhaus to rescue you, you piece of shit,” Kheir snarled, canines bared as he clenched his hand around the pen. He wanted to use it to jab Vawn’s eyeball but he couldn’t fuck this up. They’d have one chance, one opening, and Kheir wouldn’t waste it on a rush of anger.

“Don’t blame me for your own shitty choices,” Vawn muttered, that haunted look in his eyes growing. After a moment, clarity and anger cut it, and he met Kheir’s eyes. “Punching me right now would be a shitty choice, by the way. It wouldn’t be me you pissed off, but the saints.”

“What makes you think I care about your masters?” Kheir asked, glaring the bastard dead in the eye. This was the third time he’d visited Ark and Kheir in their dusty, gilded prison and Kheir hated him more with every time. He’d thought the beastkind was worth saving, had thought there was good in him when Maia fought to save him, had believed they were rescuing an ally. But the bastard was in bed with the saints.

Vawn lunged forward a step, then arrested the motion, his nostrils flaring as he composed himself. “Sit the fuck down and write,” he commanded, his voice as sharp as an arrow’s edge.

Kheir had no choice but to obey, even if he gnashed his teeth and glared murder at the asshole. “Write what, exactly?”

“Write to your parents,” Vawn went on with that slice of compulsion on his tongue. “Tell them to pull back the army you requested, that your mate is now safe and the Vassal Empire is secure once more.”

Fuck! Kheir clenched his jaw, a scream starting in his head, but he had no choice. The army his parents had sent when he requested aid back when Maia was locked in the palace was his secret weapon. The last hope he’d had. Its commander was a smart woman, and if she arrived in Vassalaer to find Kheir missing, she’d mount a mission to locate him. He’d been betting on those warriors hunting him down. Had nurtured a secret hope that one of his sisters might scour the continent for him. If anyone could get him out of here it was Ali and Mya.

He dragged his tongue over his fang and set the pen to the paper. The last thing he wanted was to call off an army that could liberate them, but if he didn’t, Vawn would know his compulsion didn’t work on Kheir. So he wrote.

“What would happen if I didn’t?” he asked, flicking a glare up at Vawn between sentences, the room quiet except for the scrape of Ark’s spoon across the bottom of a bowl.

“Karmen will kill Maia Delakore,” Vawn said in a hard voice.

Kheir tried not to flinch but he couldn’t help it. His hand fisted around the pen until the wood creaked. He forced his hand to relax, fraction by fraction.

“Let’s see what you have so far.” Vawn neared, bringing with him a stench of coppery blood and citrus fruit. He murmured as he read the words Kheir had written and shrugged. “Not bad. Are you really so impersonal with your parents? Your Majesties? Not mother and father? Truly?”

“Do you even have a mother and father?” Kheir snapped. He regretted the words when Vawn let out a joyless laugh and moved back, something almost… real in the expression that crossed his face.

“I do not,” he replied with a flippant air Kheir didn’t buy. “A little harsh of you to brag about not being an orphan, Kheir Rizian.”

“Sin Rizian,” Kheir corrected, whatever regret he’d felt sharpened to hatred again.

Vawn waved a hand, returning to his spot on the wall to lean there with an insouciance that seemed faked. “What’s the difference?”

“It’s like calling you Vawn Nor,” Kheir snarled, pretending to look at the words he’d written while he cast a questioning look at Ark. He sat in the chair, listening, forgotten by Vawn.

“Karynor.”

“You see my point,” Kheir muttered, finishing the letter that made him feel physically sick. Maia needed those soldiers to keep marching on Vassal, needed them to find Kheir so he could find her. How long did they have left before this place killed their spirits? How long before it killed them full stop? Weeks? Or did they not have even that?

Kheir dragged a canine over his bottom lip and forced his hand to move. “Give me the wax,” he said with more growl than he’d planned.

Vawn raised an eyebrow. “Who are you to make commands of me?”

“The crown prince of V’haiv,” Kheir bit out, wanting to rise from the bed and pummel his face just to let out some of his anger. Kheir would have been a lot more sympathetic if Vawn was forced to be here, but he spoke freely, moved freely, and fucked with their minds of his own volition.

“The captive crown prince of V’haiv,” Vawn corrected with a little smirk that made Kheir’s hands curl into fists, crumpling the paper. When Vawn strode over and handed the wax and seal, Kheir snatched them.

“You can use the table,” Vawn commanded magnanimously.

“Thank you,” Kheir simpered, his voice acidic. He stormed across the room to the table, briefly brushing his hand over Ark’s shoulder. They exchanged a quick glance. This was going to shit. They needed some piece of information, needed a way to unlock the door, needed to gain something from this. They couldn’t waste another fucking day locked up while Maia was being harmed. Ark’s eyes flicked to the spoon.

“What’s in this for you?” Ark asked, tilting his head towards Vawn. The command he’d been given would have expired with the food he finished. But Kheir still tensed. “Power? Money? A throne?”

Kheir heard the sharp smile in Vawn’s reply but he didn’t turn to see him, slowly pocketing the spoon Ark had set on the table. “The same as you.”

Ark turned, assessing Vawn, hopefully using that quick mind and wisdom of his. “I’m here because I was overpowered and taken hostage. The same happened to you in the palace.”

“Ding ding ding,” Vawn confirmed, laughing bitterly.

“Being their captive doesn’t mean you have to be their bitch,” Kheir muttered. “And I need a flame for this wax.”

“No, you don’t. But I almost forgot, you need a trigger.”

What…?

“Ark, take this, drive it into Kheir’s shoulder.”

Kheir whipped around and jolted at the knife in Vawn’s hand, slender and made of the same metal as the cuffs, as Jaromir’s collar. He shot Ark a look, pleading, and knew Vawn would see him pleading not to do this. Ark read his true plea, took the dagger from Vawn, and buried it in Kheir’s shoulder.

“That should do the trick,” Vawn remarked, but not with glee. With something like resignation. “Your power’s blocked, I’m sure you’ve noticed, but you can use it as long as you’re stabbed with this metal. Fuck knows how. It’s something the saints brought with them.”

Kheir ground his teeth, panting through the pain. He would have missed the sudden clarity in Ark’s eyes if he hadn’t been looking at the ex-guard. He’d figured something out. Or… had Vawn told them? Kheir was in too much pain to figure out which was true.

“How does that help with a flame?” Ark demanded.

Vawn reached for the dagger’s handle and twisted it, shouldering Ark aside when he leapt to intervene. “There’s fire in you, Archer. The flame of devotion and desire, the burning wrath of scorned lovers. Use it to melt the wax.”

Kheir gasped as pain tore through his shoulder, his hands shooting up to grab Vawn’s wrists, tearing them away but—he felt it. Like a spark, a failed attempt to light a campfire. Sputtering and temporary. But Kheir never felt that before. Not once. He hadn’t even known it was there.

“Again,” Vawn commanded, but Kheir didn’t need mind control to try another attempt. He was already reaching for that spark, cupping it in his hands, encouraging it to an ember, then a flame. Vawn’s voice was low when he said, “Don’t fight or force it; let it flow and call it to your hand.”

Kheir took a slow breath, ignoring their eyes on him as he focused on that ember, encouraging its rush and flow until heat pooled in his hand. It was black at its core and glowed unnatural pink at the edges. Kheir grabbed the wax and held it over the envelope, his heart hammering so hard it rattled his ribcage.

“Good.” Vawn squeezed his uninjured shoulder, thumb sliding against the old silk and bringing a frown to Kheir’s face that only deepened when he let go. “Don’t make it obvious, prince.”

Kheir’s breath caved in; he shot the smirking, haunted-eyed man a stunned look as he backed up, ripping the knife from Kheir’s shoulder and ignoring the grunt he couldn’t hold back.

“Get away from him,” Ark warned, shouldering Vawn away from Kheir as he slammed a hand to his bleeding shoulder, unable to hide his pain.

“I’m going,” Vawn said, shaking his head in something like amusement. He snatched up the finished letter and tucked it away. “Enjoy your meal, prince.”

Kheir stayed very still until Vawn left, using the key from a chain around his neck to unlock the door. Was there a chance Kheir and Ark could overpower him and get it from around his neck? He wanted to try, and clearly so did Ark because he tensed, ready to strike. Kheir held out his hand in a subtle gesture, halting him.

“Next time,” Vawn said with what was probably the most genuine amusement Kheir had seen him wear since he entered. It vanished like a slate wiped clean a moment before he opened the door, leaving Kheir more to ponder than he’d expected.

“We could have at least tried to get that key,” Ark growled under his breath the second Vawn was gone. “Why did you stop me?”

“The saint power in me,” Kheir said quietly, barely more than a whisper. “Did you hear what he said? The room blocks all our power, but the metal in that dagger gives me the ability to use it.”

“How does that help us?” Ark sighed, dropping onto the end of the bed and glancing at the door like he was contemplating running through the wood.

Kheir reached up to his uninjured shoulder and felt for what Vawn had slid into the silk. He pulled out a long needle and met Ark’s eyes.

“I don’t think I need to seduce him,” Kheir whispered.

Vawn wasn’t a traitor, wasn’t in bed with the saints at all. He was helping Kheir and Ark. And he’d just given Kheir a way to access his power.