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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

JORGE

T he shackles weighed heavily on my wrists, biting into the raw skin beneath.

The royal guard had coated the shackles in a nullifying alloy.

It was one I had created. Unfortunately, I hadn't bothered to develop a counter against this counter attack.

I'd never expected my own creation would be used on me.

Every jolt of the carriage sent a fresh wave of pain up my arms and across my back. My body screamed in protest. I bit down on the agony. Pain was an old friend. It had walked beside me in the stables, in the games, in the barracks, and now in the rattling dark of this cursed wagon.

The carriage ground to a halt, the wooden wheels creaking against the gravel road. My ears perked at the sound of another set of wheels coming to rest nearby. Through the small, barred window, I caught a glimpse of the royal crest embossed on a carriage gilded in gold.

I braced myself, imagining the Beast Prince’s claws around my throat. But when the door to the royal carriage swung open, it wasn’t Adom who descended.

Her golden eyes scanned her surroundings with predatory precision. Her mane of sunlit hair caught the light like a halo, though there was nothing angelic about the Lioness Queen.

The guards dragged Belle’s limp body from the carriage like a sack of flour. Once again, I marveled that anyone could confuse her and my Charlotte. She was so small, so still where Charlotte would've been kicking and screaming. Even still, Belle hadn’t deserved any of this.

“Take her inside,” the Lioness Queen ordered.

The guards obeyed without hesitation, carrying Belle into the palace as though the weight of her body didn’t matter. The Lioness turned, her golden eyes locking on me like I was a foal cut off from the herd.

“You were his friend.”

“I am his friend. ”

The queen's lips curved into something between a frown and a sneer. “And yet you stole his bride.”

“Charlotte is my world.” My voice gained strength with every word. “My heart is hers to command. As long as she wants me, I’ll fight to get back to her.”

“He won’t be fighting much longer.” The Fairy Queen appeared, her lavender skin shimmering under the light of the two suns. Her eyes glinted with malice as she glared at me.

The Lioness Queen didn’t acknowledge her immediately. She kept her gaze fixed on me, her expression unreadable. Finally, she spoke, her voice low and deliberate. “You would betray your future king, your country, for that fairy?”

"Yes, Your Majesty. The late king was your great love. What if you had been told to marry someone else instead of him? Would you have done the same?”

Her lips twitched in the ghost of a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It was a dangerous game you attempted to play. Attempted and lost."

"Who exactly lost?"

She studied me for another moment. "I pray she grants you a quick death. We should all be so lucky.”

“I wish I could kill him now and be done with it," the Fairy Queen hissed in frustration, her delicate features twisting in fury. "I have to return to Evergrove. A mother's work is never done. Is it, Amara? ”

"It's Your Majesty." The Lioness Queen corrected the Fairy Queen without so much as a glance her way.

The Fairy Queen's smirk faltered, the edges of her carefully composed expression cracking like fragile porcelain. Her eyes darted away from the queen’s and met with mine.

"You were never a mother to her," I snarled. "You were a madam."

Queen Indira snapped her fingers at the guards, her voice dripping with venom. “Make it slow. Make it agonizing. And leave the body for the trolls.”

The carriage lurched forward again, this time taking flight. The pegasuses’ wings beat heavily against the air. Their gait was uneven beneath us. Something was wrong.

The carriage swayed unnaturally. The wheels clattered every so often, as if they scraped against an uneven track. But we were in the air, not on the ground. We weren't going to get far, and when we landed, I'd be ready.

But ready for what? To go back to the capitol and save Charlotte? Was I really saving her? What would life with me even look like? Living in barns? Fighting for our lives as the royal army chased after us?

Maybe if I left her with Adom, she would be fine. Adom wasn't a bad man, far from it. He was one of the best men I knew .

The problem was that he didn't have the capacity to make Charlotte happy. I couldn't stand by and watch her live an unhappy life. That just wasn't in me.

The wind roared past us as the pegasus soared higher into the evening sky.

Beneath us, the rolling hills of Solmane blurred into shadowy streaks.

Every muscle in my body ached from the awkward position I was bound in.

I ignored the pain and began to work on my binds. There had to be a way out of them.

“Something’s wrong with the steeds,” one of the guards barked over the rush of wind.

I craned my neck, squinting against the blinding speed as I tried to catch sight of the problem.

A series of jerky movements rippled through the pegasus herd.

Their harnesses creaked ominously. The metal clasps strained against the force of the flight.

One of the beasts emitted a distressed cry, its shimmering wings faltering before resuming their rhythm.

I felt the uneasy shift in our altitude, the way the steed carrying us wobbled slightly.

“He’s good with beasts,” another guard shouted. “I remember him from the village. He can fix it.”

“We’re supposed to kill him, not give him busywork.”

“If he fixes the wing, we can offer to make it a quick death,” the second one countered, his tone laced with practicality. “It’ll save the lot of us from a crash. ”

The first guard hesitated, grumbling under his breath. Finally, he shouted, “Fine. Let’s set them down and make him fix it quick.”

"Put her down over there. There's a blacksmith in that village. He'll have the tools we need."

We descended abruptly. Dust billowed around us as the carriage settled to the ground. The herd walked the rest of the way to the forge. The familiar sound of hammering reached my ears, the unmistakable rhythm of a blacksmith at work.

I was dragged from the carriage. I focused, letting my body go limp to make the guards think I was giving in. They grunted in frustration as they adjusted their hold. Good. The less they watched my hands, the better.

The alloy might have locked the larger mechanisms, but it couldn’t smother the micro-pulses in the fingertips. Those circuits weren’t made to power brute strength. They were made for precision. And precision was all I needed.

"Oy!" the guard called to the figures emerging from the forge. "We need some tools to fix our herd. We'll pay."

"You can take all the tools you want if you leave us him."

It was a voice I hadn’t heard in years but had never truly escaped. A voice that had haunted my nights in the stables, shouted commands I couldn’t refuse, and spat insults that had taken root deep in my chest.

My knees truly did give out then. My hands were free of the shackles. But they dangled uselessly at my side. My mind screamed at me to run, to fight, to do something, but my body refused to move.

The years I’d spent clawing my way out of their shadows, building myself into someone stronger, someone untouchable—it all crumbled in an instant. My chest tightened, the air growing thin as hopelessness settled over me like a suffocating shroud.

I thought I’d buried this part of my life. I thought I’d left them behind in the ashes of my past. Seeing them now, I was that skinny, weak boy again, trembling under their fists and their jeers.

Uncle Maris’ smile widened, full of malice and triumph. “Did you miss us, boy?” he sneered, stepping closer. “Don’t worry. We’ll make you feel right at home.”

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. All I could do was watch as the shadows of my past closed in, and for the first time in years, I felt utterly, irreparably lost.