Page 139 of The Chains You Defy

“There is a rough plan, but we cannot speak about it. The walls have ears.” Antas crossed from one corridor into another, and recognition washed over me—finally, I was aware of where I was.

But Antas wasn’t finished talking. “But are the threats against you immediate?”

“My best guess is no. For Galrach, I still have more merit than I’m trouble.”

“Good.”

We fell silent, and soon after, I entered the quarters while Antas took off once more to search for the other males.

On my way to the washroom, I kicked off my shoes and allowed uneasiness to get the better of me for a few seconds.

But when I’d taken a few shuddering breaths, had rinsed my hands and arms with cold water, and had splashed some more in my face, I grasped for the pitiful reserves of my inner strength. And although I’d been on the verge of a nervous breakdown just moments ago, I was able to compose myself again.

When I returned to the sitting room shortly after, I stopped in my tracks, lingered in the doorway, and eavesdropped on Ireas and Fig, who were deep in conversation. They must have arrived while I’d been washing up.

“Ireas, I’m sorry you’re part of this mess.”

“Don’t. Just because nobody else is interested in seeking the truth, and therefore everyone chooses to stay ignorant, doesn’t mean I can disregard reality too.”

“Of course. But we all would understand if you picked your family’s safety.”

“Safety is an illusion none of us will have until we’ve dealt with the threat against the worlds.”

“He’s right.” Giving up on spying, I chose to enter the sitting room and nodded at the two males.

Ireas’ opal irises ensnared me momentarily, and his lips gently curled before I dragged my gaze away. Instead of staring at the medic, I examined Fig. During the past few days—actually ever since we’d arrived in Alaiann—the general had been absent, too busy doing something only the gods knew, and so I granted myself some time to memorize his real appearance.

Although there wasn’t much difference. No dramatic transformation like the one Ireas or Antas had performed, or the more subtle approach of Dion and Thain—just his eyes glowed in a bright teal instead of the dull olive hue of his human Glamour, and of course his ears…ear. Only one of them was pointed.

Alright, the other one lacked its tip. Sensing a story behind the loss, I was convinced the missing peak had something to do with battle and war, although I’d appreciate a tale of mishap due to something mundane.

“It was a punishment.” Fig must have noticed my lingering stare, and his voice sounded rough. “When I was younger, I never wanted to train. I despised physical exercise, and my only desire was to laze the days away or spend time with my twin sister. One day, my father, who wasn’t happy about my insubordination, decided to show me what was going to happen if I ignored his commands any longer.”

“Wait, Fig.Your father cut half your ear off?”

“More than once. Sure, the procedure was painful, but so was training per se, and when I refused to learn my lesson, one day, my father prohibited taking me to the healer who, until then, had repaired the damage every time. So instead, my sire burned the bloody tip right in front of me, and I was denied any magical healing.”

“That’s barbaric.” To veil the disgust and shock was impossible. My eyes watered, and my heart clenched for the young Fiolar.

His experience said a lot about fae society. One, where its members couldn’t do what they wanted, and his story set something straight. Had I believed Galanta to be progressive because females here weren’t oppressed as they were in Ivreia, I had to admit that treating everyoneequally like scum was by no means better. Because in the end, Fig’s father’s correctional methods hadn’t been too different from the ones mine had used on me.

“Most fae value power, social standing, and strength above all. My parents decided before I was even born that I would have to make a military career. The whole situation escalated further when my magic surfaced, and my father realized that I wasn’t particularly blessed with an abundance of power.”

Before I could sort through my thoughts and voice a reply, the door opened, and Thain, Antas, and Dion spilled into the sitting room.

The prince elbowed the other two out of his way and crossed the space with big strides to me, equal parts anger and worry written on his beautiful features. “Are you alright?” His eyes trailed from the top of my head down to my toes before hauling me close and crushing me in an explosion of arms, body, and magic.

“Gods, Dion. Ouch. Your grandfather didn’t touch me.”

“Galrach doesn’t need to touch someone to cause harm.”

“We had a simple conversation.” With threats, but I’d be crazy to admit this when Dion was on the verge of a mental collapse. And as so often, it was my task to de-escalate him.

His eyes narrowed, and he regarded me as if he were attempting to figure out whether I was speaking the truth. His stare was piercing, and then his worry disappeared, leaving only the bastard behind.

“Never, and I mean never ever again, escape from where I put you. Especially without writing a note.” Dion snarled and flashed his teeth at me.

He rarely tried to intimidate me outright anymore, so he must have been truly anxious when he couldn’t find me in his quarters. Although somehow, in presenting his canines to me, he wasn’t rousing my bad conscience but—memories of his pointed teeth meeting my skin.