Page 10

Chapter

Nine

Someone was coming.

Two people—one of them was definitely Jaxon Shaw. Loren had quickly learned the sharp cadence of the young mage’s footsteps. His arrival always heralded some new torment, another demand for answers about this so-called Shadowed Veil the humans were so obsessed with.

But the other person—their steps were light, almost soundless. A new guard, maybe? Loren tipped his head back against the wall as keys grated in the lock, closing his eyes and deliberately relaxing his body. He would never give any of them the satisfaction of finding him waiting like a hound straining at its leash.

The door groaned open, iron dragging across stone. The newcomer entered first, the wild pounding of their heart betraying them. Loren stifled a humorless smile. Whoever Jaxon had brought down here, they were terrified.

He inhaled deeply, filtering through the stench of burnt aether. A woman? No—a female. Fae . The faint perfume of her magic teased at his senses, fresh and clean like damp earth after a spring rain .

Loren opened his eyes, meeting the frightened silver gaze of his mate.

Loren’s world froze. Even the shadows shivered, starting to reach for her before Jaxon stepped in behind her, sending them skittering back into the dark corners of his cell. He ignored them, too stunned to do anything but stare as the shock of seeing her in the flesh rattled him to the core.

Then time began again. She gasped, her eyes widening as she stumbled back a step—straight into Jaxon. Loren snarled, instincts he’d thought long dead filling him with raw, choking rage as the human mage who had caused him so much pain snaked an arm around her waist to steady her.

“Easy, Starling,” Jaxon laughed. “He hasn’t attacked a guard in over a decade.”

Only because attacking the guards never got him anywhere.

Loren bared his teeth, a surge of fierce protectiveness warring with deep despair. Did Jaxon know ? Could he see the shocked recognition on her face, the way her breath caught? Loren kept his own expression empty, but his mind raced. If Jaxon suspected —if he saw even a hint of the bond?—

“Who is he?” She asked, her voice wobbling.

The worst thing that could have happened to you , Loren answered her silently. They would hurt her because of him—badly. She would have been better off if she never met him.

“Araya Starwind,” Jaxon said. “Meet Prince Loren of Valendral. Heir to the fae throne. Do you think his blood will do?”

His blood. Humans always wanted fae blood, fae bone…anything they could use to claim more power than the Goddess ever intended them to have. Loren bared his teeth as Jaxon stroked his hand possessively down the terrified female’s back, staking his claim.

“We’ll distill it first, of course,” Jaxon said. “You know how difficult fae blood can be to work with—and he only has so much.”

The female— Araya, his mate’s name was Araya —swallowed hard, her grip tightening on the case in her hands as she shifted her weight, her shoulders drawing inward as if bracing for what came next.

“Araya is going to collect your blood,” Jaxon told Loren. “If you make things difficult for her, I’ll do it myself. Trust me, Loren. You don’t want that.”

She approached him slowly, a small medical kit clenched in her hands. If it was anyone else, he would have fought. But she was already so frightened… Loren didn’t care if they beat him—but if they beat her for failing? He wouldn’t survive it.

So, Loren sat very, very still as she knelt in front of him. Her scent surrounded him, foreign yet familiar at the same time. It soothed him, even mingled with Jaxon’s stench. How close would Jaxon have had to be for his scent to cling to her skin?

“Are you alright?” The words slipped free before he could stop them, his voice raspy from disuse.

Her brow furrowed, confusion clouding her features as she stared at him without a flicker of understanding. He hadn’t been sure before, but he couldn’t deny it now. His own mate did not speak Valenya. The language of their people, the words that should have been hers by birthright, meant nothing to her.

For the first time in longer than he could remember, something inside Loren broke. Maybe it was his heart. Or maybe it was the last fragile thread of hope he hadn’t realized he was still holding onto.

“I’m sorry,” Araya murmured in the human tongue, softly enough that Jaxon wouldn’t hear. “I’ll try not to hurt you.”

Loren wanted to laugh, to tell her it wasn’t him he was worried about. Instead, he simply held out his arm, squeezing his fist until his veins rose to the surface. Her touch was featherlight, and he barely registered the bite of the blade as it sliced his skin. The pain was insignificant compared to the torment of being so close to her and so utterly unable to help her.

She filled six vials with practiced efficiency despite the way her hands trembled under Jaxon’s scrutiny, capping each one and setting it gently in a padded box. When she was done, she pressed a clean cloth to his arm. Her silver eyes softened, a quiet ache lingering in their depths.

Loren couldn’t stop himself. He lifted his free hand and rested it on hers.

For a heartbeat, the cell fell away. The stone walls, the iron chains, the ever-present ache of his suppressed magic—it all disappeared as the bond surged between them. Raw and unrelenting, it clawed its way to the surface, the remnants of his magic howling for hers.

“I think he likes you,” Jaxon said, voice laced with amusement. “Though I suppose you’re the only female he’s seen in twenty-five years… No wonder he’s so taken with you.”

Araya jerked her hand back, dropping the cloth as she scrambled to collect her things. She jumped to her feet, avoiding his eyes.

Loren let her go.

He forced himself to remain seated, even as every instinct screamed at him to protect her. There was nothing to be gained from attacking Jaxon. Even if he caught the human mage by surprise, he wouldn’t be able to get her out. The iron around his wrists bit into his skin, a bitter reminder of his helplessness.

Then Jaxon’s hand shot out, gripping her arm.

Loren’s gaze snapped to the human’s hand as it slid down her arm, tugging her towards him like he owned her.

His rage ignited.

The chains groaned as Loren surged to his feet, the manacles biting deep into his ruined skin as he lunged forward. He bared his teeth, the snarl that tore from his throat primal and unrestrained.

“ Do not touch her .”

Jaxon flinched, his smug expression faltering as he fell back half a step. His brow furrowed, lips parting slightly—processing. Translating. But then he recovered, sneering as he yanked Araya back against his chest. She stumbled, clutching her case to her chest like a lifeline.

"T’sovira, ehn Vael’Thir,” he said. The phrasing was stilted, the cadence mangled beyond recognition. It was Valenya in name only—but Loren still understood him. Too late, little prince.

Araya stiffened in his grip, her silver eyes widening with shock and confusion, but Jaxon only sneered as he brushed her braid aside. “I more than touch her,” he said in broken Valenya, trailing his fingers deliberately down the long line of her neck. “I own her. Her body, her magic, her life—everything she is belongs to me.”

“Jaxon—” Araya twisted in his grip, her plea cutting off in a startled yelp as Jaxon roughly slid his hand into her dress.

Loren’s vision blurred red.

His instincts roared louder than reason, drowning out any thought of caution. His magic—weak and stifled by years in iron—scraped against his skin as the shadows hissed and writhed in the corners of the cell. He could feel them, clawing at the edges of his sanity.

Loren threw himself against his chains, fresh blood trickling down his arms as the iron bit into his ruined skin. The bolts anchoring the chains to the wall groaned under the strain, the metal shrieking in protest.

And then, with a screech of twisting iron, they snapped.

Loren stumbled forward, his chains dragging behind him. Untethered.

For the first time, true fear flickered over Jaxon’s face. He took a step back, dragging Araya with him. Loren’s heart lurched as she cried out, aether sparking where Jaxon’s hand wrapped around her throat. Power surged—with her so close Loren could feel it flowing from her and into Jaxon.

The bond recoiled in his chest, bitter disgust flooding his mouth as Jaxon tossed her roughly to the side, freeing his hands. “Do you think breaking your chains changes anything?” He spat, ignoring her broken sobs. “You still don’t have your magic.”

“I don’t need magic to kill you,” Loren growled. He took another step forward, his broken chains scraping on the floor behind him. He would rip Jaxon apart with his bare hands before he let him lay another finger on her.

But then she threw herself between them. Power surged— hers —rising behind her in an impenetrable wall of magic. Loren staggered to a stop, but the shadows didn’t slow, surging across the stone in a tide of darkness. Araya yelped as they wrapped around her, brushing across her skin and curling into the spaces between her fingers, as close to her as they could manage.

Without thinking, Loren took a step towards her. He reached out his hand—but she flinched, and the fear in her silver eyes cut him more deeply than any knife the Arcanum had wielded against him.

Because she wasn’t afraid of Jaxon Shaw. She wasn’t even afraid of the shadows—she was afraid of him .

What did she see when she looked at him? A monster? Snarling and unchained? Loren bit down on the fury still burning in his chest and took a step back, holding his hands up in surrender. Slowly, he lowered himself to the moldy pallet in the corner, careful not to scare her more than he already had.

The shadows drained away reluctantly, shrinking back into the walls and folding into the corners of the cell. Araya’s shoulders sagged, her breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. But the wild, shaken fear never left her face.

“I want to leave,” Araya whispered, half-glancing over her shoulder. “Now.”

Jaxon didn’t answer right away, his gaze lingering on where the shadows had wrapped around Araya’s hands just a heartbeat too long. Then his lips curled in a slow, satisfied smile.

Loren’s stomach twisted, his mouth going dry. Jaxon Shaw had just discovered a new mystery to unravel.

“Of course, Starling,” Jaxon said, plucking the padded case from her hands and tucking it under his arm. “But first—be a good girl and put those chains back where they belong.”

Araya stiffened, her eyes flicking to Loren’s bloody wrists. For a moment, her hand trembled, and Loren thought she might refuse—but then she knelt before him.

"I’m sorry," she whispered, picking up the first chain and pressing it back into place.

Loren didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Her magic brushed over his skin, soft and gentle, wrapping around the bolts and driving them back into the stone. The iron groaned as it reattached, locking him in place once more.

It took every drop of willpower Loren had to stay on the pallet as she scurried back to Jaxon’s side, letting him lead her from the cell. She glanced back once, her brow furrowing as she stared at his bloody wrists, but then Jaxon’s hand was on her back, urging her forward.

Loren didn’t move. Didn’t speak. The door groaned shut between them, the aetherlamp flickering and dying a moment later, sealing him in darkness once more. Still, he strained his ears, listening to the echo of their footsteps until they faded away entirely, leaving him with only his own heaving breaths for company.

He had survived everything the Arcanum had done to him. But this—this was different. His mate had been afraid of him.

A guttural roar tore from his chest, echoing off the walls like the cry of a wild animal caught in a snare. He slammed his fists into the stone floor, welcoming the sharp bloom of pain. Blood smeared across the stone as he struck again and again. He deserved it. Every bruise. Every drop of spilled blood.

He had broken his chains—but she had put them back.

The shadows curled closer, wrapping around his broken hands like a lover’s caress. Their whispers echoed his grief, a hundred voices speaking at once as dark tendrils snaked around his wrists and tightened around his heart.

Loren roared again, his voice cracking as the sound collapsed into a hoarse, broken wail. Finally, exhausted, he sank to the floor and cradled his bloodied hands in his lap.

For the first time in years, he let the tears fall.