Page 17

He gasps for breath. I step back, letting him collapse onto his palms in the sand. Some claps resonate from the watchers, now thoroughly intrigued. Vaelith appears near the ring’s edge, arms still folded, face impassive. But I notice a spark in his eyes—approval, or perhaps fascination.

The older soldier pushes himself upright, coughing. “Enough.” He shoots me a look that’s half rage, half respect, then trudges away.

I stand in the center, sword still raised, sweat dripping down my temples.

My chest heaves from the exertion. I glance at Vaelith, a challenge in my gaze.

He steps forward, tilting his head. “Impressive.” His voice carries to the watchers.

“Our new recruit shows skill. Perhaps she can be shaped into a weapon for Orthani.”

I grip the blade tighter. “I’m no one’s weapon.”

He arches a brow. “We’ll see.”

The watchers start to disperse, some scribbling notes on scrolls, others nodding among themselves. The air crackles with renewed tension. I look back at Vaelith, letting my frustration show. “That’s it? You parade me around to slash up your men, then send me back to a cell?”

He shrugs. “You’ve proven you can fight. This demonstration might grant you less restrictive quarters.” He gestures for me to lower my weapon. A guard steps over, reaching to collect it. I release the hilt, ignoring the dryness in my mouth.

Vaelith motions for the guard to stay back, then leans in close, voice low enough that only I hear.

“You’ve earned a sliver of trust, Selene.

But remember, your hold on life is precarious.

” His warm breath grazes my cheek. “Behave, and maybe we’ll allow you glimpses of the child. Resist… and you both suffer.”

Rage flares hot in my veins. My fist tightens at my side, but I hold back the urge to strike. Attacking him now would be suicide. Still, I let him see the smolder in my eyes. “If anything happens to her, I will make Orthani regret it.”

He nods, stepping away. For a moment, his expression flickers with something like regret, but it’s gone in a heartbeat. “Come with me,” he orders.

I follow him through a side exit, flanked by guards. My body aches from the fights, but a grim sense of satisfaction settles in my chest. I showed them I’m no feeble captive. They want to shape me into a lethal extension of Orthani. Perhaps I can use that to my advantage.

We wind through corridors that become increasingly opulent—deep purple carpets, gilded sconces, tall arched ceilings.

This is the level of Orthani’s fortress reserved for mid-tier officers or favored subordinates.

Vaelith stops at a door bearing a simple crest of crossed swords.

He pushes it open, revealing a modest suite: a single bed draped in dark linens, a small desk, and an arrow-slit window offering a glimpse of the city’s outer ramparts.

“This will be your room for now,” Vaelith says. “It’s warded. You can’t cast major spells here. But it’s more comfortable than the cell.”

I step inside, scanning the furniture. It’s definitely an upgrade from the freezing storeroom. A large iron ring is set into the wall—likely used to leash a prisoner if needed. Lovely. A half-lidded lantern flickers on a side table, giving off a soft, amber glow.

“Why the change of heart?” I ask, turning to face him.

His voice is measured. “You’ve shown you have value. The council sees potential. We’ll test your obedience. Try to destroy or escape, and I’ll haul you back to the dungeons.”

I cross my arms, forcing calm. “I won’t perform any circus acts for Orthani’s amusement.”

He gives a faint smile, as though used to my barbed comebacks. “We’ll see how you handle your new tasks. For now, rest. Another test awaits soon enough.”

A guard stands at the threshold, arms folded.

Vaelith inclines his head at him. The guard steps forward, pressing a small iron bracelet around my left wrist. It fits snugly, the metal etched with runic lines.

I feel the wards tingle, binding me to this chamber’s perimeter.

If I stray too far, it’ll likely send a nasty shock or alert the watch.

Vaelith arches a brow at me, as if to say, “Behave,” then turns on his heel and strides out.

The guard steps into the hall, leaving me in this suite with the door locked behind them.

I exhale, crossing to the window. The cityscape below is a jagged labyrinth of angled rooftops and narrow passageways, lit by the faint shimmer of arcane lamps.

So many vantage points to exploit if I can free myself.

I let my gaze drift across the spires, steeling my resolve.

I have to rescue Ai, unearth how the Red Purna set me up, and ensure that Orthani’s attempts to chain me fail.

Even if that means working from the inside, faking obedience, forging alliances with devils like Vaelith or Zareth.

Each time I recall Ai’s trembling figure, the vow in my heart blazes stronger.

Gently, I test the bracelet’s boundary by stepping close to the door. A faint jolt pricks my wrist, prompting me to stop before I actually push it. So the perimeter is no idle threat.

I sigh and approach the narrow bed. My limbs are sore, my back stiff, and the events of the day press on me like a lead weight.

I lower myself onto the mattress, letting the faint glow from the lantern wash over me.

My mind swirls with images: Ai’s cryptic words, that haunted look in her eyes, her mention that the Red Purna wanted me caught.

Betrayal runs thick in my veins, fueling a dark resolve.

I’ll keep playing their game, toeing the line enough to gather resources.

If Vaelith wants me to prove my loyalty, I’ll dangle just enough compliance to keep them off my back.

In time, I’ll find an opening to save Ai—maybe more than that.

The only catch is enduring men like Zareth, who thirsts for my submission, or Vaelith, who wears duty like an iron mask.

If I have to endure them both to protect Ai, so be it. I’ve survived torment before.

As I stretch out on the bed, an unbidden warmth seizes my chest, remembering how Ai looked at me in the corridor, fragile but trusting that I would somehow protect her. That trust anchors me. No matter how dire this fortress or how cunning Orthani’s lords might be, I won’t abandon her.

My lids grow heavy. Exhaustion from the fights and the emotional upheaval weighs me down. Before I let sleep claim me, I whisper a vow into the silent room: “I’ll find you, Ai. I’ll tear open this city if I must.”

A swirl of the fortress’s wards hums in my senses, but it’s not enough to keep me from drifting into fitful rest. My dreams swirl with brief flashes: Ai’s pale hair catching the lantern glow, Vaelith’s cold gaze, Zareth’s predatory grin, and the knowledge that the Red Purna orchestrated all this.

Their betrayal stings like a festering wound.

In the morning—or whenever they decide—I’ll face Orthani’s next trial.

One step at a time, I remind myself. So long as I’m alive, Ai has hope.

I cling to that thought until sleep finally drags me under, carrying me into a realm where Orthani’s watchful eyes can’t follow.

My final conscious image is Ai’s face, little fists clenched, whispering that I was the bait.

A tight coil of determination grips my heart, ensuring that even in slumber, my resolve remains.

I won’t let them break me, and I won’t let the Red Purna’s schemes seal our fate.

If they want war, I’ll give it to them on my terms. And if Orthani thinks they can leash me, they’re about to learn a brutal lesson about what it means to cage a purna who refuses to kneel.