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Chapter Sixty-Four: Xander

The scent of mildew grows stronger the farther down into this hellscape I go. I hate it here in the dungeons, maybe even as much as the king does. It has been longer between visits than I meant for it to be, but His Majesty has kept me busy. I slip on some moss on the last step, cursing as I hit the cold stone wall and my stupid fucking golden armor clangs loudly. A few of the prisoners stir, their hands gripping around the iron bars as they begin to plead for help when they see that the king isn’t with me. I ignore them all as I walk down the dark corridor, my boots scuffing against the damp stone floors before I stop in front of the last cell. The other prisoners have hushed now, their hope of being set free diminished.

“It’s time for you to talk,” I say gruffly while reaching for the keys dangling on my belt loop.

The female hunched in the corner with her arms wrapped around her knees lifts her head to glower at me. “ Fuck. You, ” she snarls, her body wobbling as she stands.

I take in her more ragged appearance, and my heart skips a beat as I clench my jaw in regret. I waited too fucking long.

“You make this harder on yourself.” Finding the key to her cell, I unlock and slide the bars to the side, the ancient metal squealing in protest. She freezes as I enter, her eyes poring over me as if I’m going to attack at any moment. Gripping her arm firmly, I lead her out of the cell, her bare feet slapping on the freezing stone as we walk.

“I’m not going to tell you anything!” she screams.

I don’t reply, pulling her towards an adjacent hallway where a single door awaits—made mostly of wood but fortified with metal. She tenses in my hold though she already knows what to expect—or she should . I suppose that’s the thing with living on the edge of fear for weeks on end. Rationale and logic lose out to what-ifs and hypotheticals. When your mind is the only thing keeping you company, it’s easy to get lost in it.

I had assumed Rhea had fallen victim to hers, being all alone in that tower. Well, mostly alone. Her escape with the secret mage prince had taken up all of my free time. The prince. What a fucking shock that had been to learn. I was lucky that I had found something untrustworthy about a guard who worked his way so quickly up the ranks. I doubt him finding out what I had spent years building would have been anything other than disastrous.

Metal hinges creak as I throw the door open, releasing her when she steps past the threshold and out of sight of the other prisoners. Her arms hug her torso as she slowly looks around at the different torture devices filling the room. Swords, daggers, chains, and ropes. Whips and needles and blindfolds and any other thing a man might conjure up in his nightmares—or dreams, depending on how depraved the individual is—can be found. I lock the door after I shut it, ensuring we’ll be left alone, before turning to face her.

A single large flame gem is embedded in the ceiling above us, its light shining down on the crown of her head and illuminating her amber eyes. We keep the silence between us as I take a step towards her and reach out my hand. Her hesitation is expected, but it still sends a wave of panic through me when she lingers before finally placing her delicate fingers on my own. Together, we walk back to the corner of the room where an ancient arched door is stationed.

I’ve oiled its hinges well enough that they are silent when I open it and duck my head, leading us through an old corridor. I have no idea why there is an underground tunnel that connects a now unused wing of the castle to the dungeons; I’m only grateful that, on one of my secret explorations, I found it. The space is pitch black, its ceiling low enough that I have to bend at the waist as we shuffle down it.

I keep my hand wrapped firmly around one of hers. The fingers of her other hand drag across the stone above, creating a whisper of noise that lets me know she won’t accidentally hit her head. The smell of dust and mold mixing into the stagnant air is pungent, and when she coughs behind me, I pick up my pace, knowing her heightened senses are only growing more irritated the longer we are in this space. Finally, light frames the edges of another arched door a few feet ahead.

“Wait here,” I whisper before letting her hand go and carefully opening the door.

Though I don’t expect anyone to be here, I grip the hilt of the dagger strapped to my thigh and slide the thin blade free. Another set of well-oiled hinges keeps the door silent as I pull it open, the light of the flame gem I placed here pouring out into the dark tunnel. When I see that the room is empty of people, I sheathe my dagger, exhaling roughly.

“It’s all clear.”

“Thank the gods.” She steps into the room, and I quickly close the door behind her, locking it in place though we’ll only be here for a short time. “Please tell me that you have clean water for me to wash in?”

I snort and walk over to where a canvas cloth hangs from a rafter beam in the low ceiling, pulling it back to reveal a small basin tub I had filled with fresh water prior to retrieving her. “It’s not warm—”

“It’s perfect,” she interrupts, her golden skin flushing before she ducks her head. “Thank you.”

I bite back a smile, double checking that there is soap, shampoo, a towel, and a fresh change of clothes for her before crossing to the other side of the room. With my back to the tub, I unstrap the breast and back plates of my armor and set them on the ground before sitting on an overturned crate. Pulling a whetstone from my pocket, I unsheathe a second dagger. Water splashes behind me, and my grip on the stone tightens.

“You do know that it’s slightly unsettling that you’re sharpening a knife while I’m vulnerable in the bath, don’t you?” she asks, sloshing more water onto the wooden floors.

My lips twitch as I continue my movements. “First, if you hear the sound of the blade against the stone, you’ll know I’m not trying to sneak a glance at you.” She makes a noise that almost sounds like a laugh. “Second, of the two of us, you’re the least vulnerable. Last time I checked, I couldn’t shift into a large fox.” She scoffs at that but makes no further comment.

It is progress, though, from the first time I had tried talking to her. She had been brought directly from the border where they captured her to the dungeons, completely naked and with an arrow still sticking out of her thigh. A shifter , the guards that shot her had said . The second surprise related to Rhea’s escape. How the princess had managed to hide a fucking fox in her tower, especially with the king’s random visits, I will never know. Though it seems that she was always poised to hold secrets, to be a secret—something more myth than real if the king had his way.

I have made my own assumptions about her. Ones that I’m still unsure could be disproven, even with talking to the shifter female. Rhea is technically the rightful heir to the throne of the Mortal Kingdom, which makes things complicated. Still, shame coats the back of my throat, and I struggle to swallow it back down. I had made many tough choices over the past few years in my pursuit of something better for this kingdom and its people, for myself , and I know that I will have to make even more in the coming future. However, the one that still haunts my dreams, the one choice that may forever be irredeemable, is how I did nothing while Rhea was beaten by—

“I assume you brought something to eat?” Her voice is closer than before. I stop my use of the whetstone, placing it back in my pocket before sheathing the dagger.

“Are you decent?” I ask, hoping she doesn’t catch the roughness to my voice.

“I am.”

Waiting another few seconds before I turn around, I lift the large satchel from my body and walk over to our makeshift table. Two upended crates are set between two rickety chairs that I’m still not convinced won’t snap under our weight. They were left over from whatever this room was used for before it was forgotten.

She towel dries her hair while walking to the chair opposite my own, sitting in it more delicately than she had the first time we came here. The clothes I brought for her had been the head maid Tienne’s doing, and luckily, they fit her well. Maybe too well, as my eyes linger for an extra moment on her curves before I pull them away.

“I’m sorry that it took so long for me to come back again,” I tell her, taking out a parchment-wrapped sandwich for each of us, two canteens of water, and a few apples. I try to never go more than three days between our visits, but this time, I had nearly doubled that.

“Is everything alright?” she asks, working her snow-white hair into a braid.

I lift my eyes to meet her gaze, tucking a few rogue strands of my own shoulder-length black hair back behind my ear. It’s a nervous habit that I can’t quite seem to stop around her. “Since I know you’re asking for yourself—”

“And for her,” she interjects with an angry bite of her sandwich.

I take my seat carefully, holding my hands up in front of me. “Of course. On both accounts, yes, I believe things are fine. But the king has been working on something that he’s keeping close to the chest, and I haven’t been able to get him to tell me yet what it is.” Dolian was already paranoid, but Rhea’s escape had compounded that madness. He trusts me more than any of the other guards, but that doesn’t mean that I am privy to everything. A fact that frustrates me to no end, as it is pertinent that I know what he is planning at all times.

“You don’t think it’s related to getting her back?”

I shake my head though I’m not entirely sure. “It could be, but he’s been very vocal about his ideas for forcing Rhea to come back to this kingdom. He was convinced that the present he sent her would do the trick.” It hadn’t, and when days had gone by with no response from Rhea or the Mage Kingdom, Dolian had raged upon every person he could find, leaving a mess that I was forced to clean up.

“I will kill him,” she seethes, eyeing me as I take a bite of my own sandwich.

I nod again, but she’ll have to get in line.

The first time I had removed her from the cell to bring her here, she fought and screamed every step of the way, convinced that I was indeed going to torture her as the king had suggested from the beginning. Her fiery spirit, even wounded and in captivity, had surprised me. I brought in a healer I trust to clean and patch her wound, her shifter magic helping to at least keep it from reopening. She should be dead—not just from the wound she sustained but because she crossed over the Spell. She’s an anomaly, and my next swallow of food is tight in my throat as I study her.

It took weeks before she believed that I wasn’t going to harm her. More time, and a few secrets of my own, for her to open up the slightest bit about herself and Rhea, but I have no interest in forcing information from her. She has been through enough. They both have. My only goal regarding her now is to help her escape from this place—from the king.

“When?” she asks in a whisper, holding my attention hostage. I lower my half-eaten sandwich to the parchment paper wrinkled on the table, brushing my hands off on my thighs.

“Soon. The last piece of the plan is nearly in place. Once we have that, I will be able to get you on a ship, and the king will never suspect anything beyond an inexperienced guard getting bested by a fierce female.”

She grins at my compliment, the expression so rare that I can’t help but stare at her full lips, my stomach tightening as I do. But the smile falters, and my gaze draws back up to her eyes—her irises wrapped in gold. “He cannot have her again.”

“I know. He won’t. He can’t cross the Spell. He can’t make anyone turn her over from the Mage Kingdom. As long as she stays there, she will be safe.” If the princess ever steps foot in this kingdom again, she’ll never leave. He’ll make sure of it. It’s better for my cause and better for her life if she stays where she is. “We’ll have to go back soon.”

She nods, finishing her meal and then pocketing the rest of the food I brought in her trousers. “Thank you.”

“It won’t be much longer; I give you my word.” I pause, forcing a shaky smile as I stand from the chair. “For whatever that’s worth.” I imagine it can’t be much, considering I had helped the king murder Alexi and had done nothing while he brutalized Rhea.

“It is worth more now than before,” she answers quietly, extending her hand out to me. I take it without hesitation, and we make our return back through the tunnel and into the torture room.

“Don’t forget to put on a show again; you’re very convincing when you do.”

She chuckles, giving my hand a barely perceptible squeeze before dropping it. “I look forward to your next visit, Xander.”

I wrap my fingers gently around her upper arm, her warmth radiating through more than just my skin as I unlock the door, my eyes still honed in on hers. “As do I, Siyala.”

I keep my body rigid where I stand guard in front of the throne room. Though familiar faces pass me, none of them look my way. I don’t acknowledge them either. It’s the number one rule of those who have joined the cause—in daylight, we are nothing but guards, servants, cooks, and workers of Vitour. But when the sun goes down and the castle falls quiet, those ready for something new, something better , gather in secret beneath it. Traversing those underground tunnels and utilizing the forgotten wings, we plot how we will take down not only Dolian but his advisors. The men who are letting this kingdom rot away from the Cruel Death.

King Dolian’s voice carries through the slender gap in the middle of the double doors, and I take a small step in its direction to try and hear what he’s saying.

“Are you sure that is what it means?” he asks.

There is a slight pause before a distorted voice answers, its lilt smooth. “If what you said about the shifter female is true, then yes. Do you know nothing of their kingdom, Your Majesty?”

Siyala. They must be talking about her.

King Dolian grunts, the sound of his boots tapping on the floor drowning out his response. I force myself to take a steadying breath, my heart still pounding in my ears as I lean in a little closer. “Fine. We’ll do it your way. I’ll ready the ship and—”

“Eavesdropping, are we, Commander?” My eyes snap to the owner of the oily voice as I grit my teeth together and glare at perhaps the most vile man I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing, including the king.

“Of course not, Simon. Merely stretching.” I keep all emotion from my face, something easily done with the many years of practice I’ve had.

“Good. We wouldn’t want His Majesty to regret promoting you so soon or for others to begin to question it, now would we?”

I stare into his soulless eyes, the evil that I know lurks within him tamed for now. But his threat is pointless. Simon is the only person who knows the true connection between the king and I, and Dolian would sooner kill him than have anyone else find out about his secret shame .

The doors open behind me, hazel eyes meeting my darker ones briefly as he strides from the room. No one follows him out, his conversation happening within the Mirror, then.

“Xander, when was the last time you spoke with our prisoner?” He doesn’t need to specify which one.

“Two days ago,” I lie, resuming my position behind him and Simon as we walk down the white painted hallway with floors lined in deep red and gold rugs. Servants and other workers stop and pivot to go in the other direction as they avoid our entourage. “She still hasn’t said anything of value, despite my attempts to break her.”

Simon snorts, his hands coming behind him as he looks at me over his shoulder. “It doesn’t take much to break someone who is already as weak as she is. I’d be happy to use my talents on her if His Majesty is so inclined.”

Nausea burns my throat and curdles my stomach, but I force my expression to remain blank. Simon’s reputation precedes him when it comes to those talents . I’d sooner kill him and then myself before I’d let him anywhere near Siyala.

“That won’t be necessary. Her usefulness is nearing its end.” The simmering rage in my blood morphs into icy fear at the king’s words. “Instruct the other guards to keep her starved for the next few days. I want her weakened for the next part of my plan.”

The looming door to the council chambers comes into view, the sigil of the Mortal Kingdom carved into it forcefully drawing my eye as I will myself not to react to his words— his threat . Alaric, another member of the King’s Guard, opens the doors, allowing Simon to enter. The king stops short, turning to look at me.

We’re nearly the same height, my few inches on him something I know he loathes. But that’s where the similarities between us end, and thank the gods for it.

“Tell the maids to prepare a large room in the royal wing. It needs to be spotless upon my inspection, or I’ll replace them permanently.”

My throat tightens as I give a curt nod. “Anything else, Your Majesty?” What are your fucking plans?

He smiles, if the ghastly twist of his lips can even be called that. “Patience and persistence always pay off, Xander. Remember that.” Then he turns and walks into the council chambers, my stare boring into his back as if it were a dagger. Gods, do I wish it fucking was. My fists tighten at my side as Alaric closes the door.

When the time comes to kill him, it won’t be a knife to the back. I may have been forced to take a blood oath that swears I will not harm the king with my own hand, the scar raised on my palm proof of it, but I’ll make sure my face is the last one he sees when a sharpened blade is plunged into his heart. It’s the face of a man he thought he could trust. The face of the man whose mother he killed.

It’s the face of his son .

Blowing out a breath, I meet Alaric’s stare, breaking my own rules to ask him a question. “What ships are docked and ready to leave before the day’s end?”

His blue eyes flare widely for a second before he relaxes his expression. “Only one ship is docked that I’m aware of. It’s a supply ship from the Shifter Kingdom, and it leaves within the hour.”

Shit.

Spinning on my heel, I make my way to the guard’s quarters. I’ve never acted without a plan before, the nature of what I’ve been building these past few years is too important to risk getting caught. But Siyala’s face flashes in my mind, her amber eyes bright with life despite what she’s been through . There is no fucking way I’m letting my father, or that bastard Simon, add to that list of hurts. She’ll be pissed that the ship is going to take her back to her home island and not to where Rhea is, but maybe that’s for the best.

Regardless of what the king has planned, a revolution is knocking on his doorstep. One that is likely to bring chaos until it ushers in peace. So, even though it makes a longing I’ve only ever felt around her rush through my veins, I throw open the door to my room and begin grabbing items Siyala will need to make her journey back to her true home.