Page 96 of The Chains You Defy

I didn’t dare to give him more than a minuscule dip of my chin as I disentangled my still screaming legs, and as if he sensed my discomfort, Dion kept his hand clasped around my upper arm, pretending to drag me with him when in truth he stabilized me. Hopefully, his grandfather wasn’t able to tell the difference, or else our whole charade so far would have been in vain.

A small door behind the massive throne opened all by itself—was this magic or a cleverly hidden mechanism?—and soon we were swallowed by darkness. Not the good kind, more an oppressive and foreboding one, and the accompanying drop in temperature made my skin crawl.

An icy chill radiated from the enclosing walls, and since the absence of a light source utterly blinded me, I could only assume they were fashioned from stone. I was almost sure that the corridor we traversed sloped downward, and my lungs tightened when, from somewhere in front of us, agonized screams permeated the air.

My feet refused to continue serving their purpose as my brain conjured pictures of dungeons and torture, opening the floodgates for everything I’d repressed during the past few months. I had to repair my mental defenses, and I had to do so fast. If I broke down here and now, we would be in even worse trouble. But the more frantically I attempted to quell the flashbacks, the more violently they tried to ensnare me.

And Dion knew somehow. He didn’t take his eyes, which glowed in the darkness, off me as he tugged me closer, ready to drop every bit of pretense. Blind as I still was, I only felt his magic wrapping around my waist, circling my shoulders and arms, soothing and caressing, and when my feet still threatened me with mutiny, the tendrils lifted me ever so slightly and carried me in their steady embrace.

Unburdened by the task of supporting myself, I concentrated on the touch of the onyx strands curling all around me, fussing like a worried lover over his adored. One tip painted reassuring patterns on my back, and when I focused solely on the sensation, my lungs slowly opened up.

With every deep breath and each gentle action, the flashbacks receded some more.

A familiar humming, purring noise in my ears blocked out the cries of agony getting closer, and finally, I could anchor myself enough in reality to shove all the bad memories back into their boxes.

Crisis averted, and I could only pray that Galrach hadn’t noticed my breakdown or his grandson’s reaction.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Why the fuck hadn’t I warned Nayana in time that my asshole of a grandfather would lead us to his most favorite place in the entirety of Alaiann, if not Galanta—his personal underground lair. One I was more intimately acquainted with than I liked to admit. And if she’d already almost broken down in the corridor leading to the horrors lying in front of us, how could she hold up the charade during what was bound to happen?

For now, my magic had dragged her out of her own head, but once we arrived at our destination, I couldn’t comfort her without blowingour cover.

I seriously doubted I would manage to maintain the ruse if she was so obviously suffering. But if I failed, the consequences would be even worse. Fuck.

Please, Kalag, grant Nayana your support to find the strength to harness her resilience. Otherwise, fighting the pressure to protect her from every bit of discomfort would be impossible. The dark, primal force inside of me was already thrashing against the chains holding the energy captive, not understanding that aiding her would hurt her more in the long run—or that I couldn’t simply dispose of the threat my grandfather posed. The compulsion was beyond reason, beyond calculation—only the purest, darkest instinct. And its influence was growing. Exponentially.

The cavern reserved—as far as I knew—exclusively for tormenting me, was close. The prominent sickly green shimmer, still barely visible, told me as much.

Reluctantly, I discharged Nayana from my magic. A single tendril escaped my control, and I was unable to call back my wayward power as it snuck under her skirts, where it curled around her thigh. If I didn’t have bigger problems at this moment, I’d worry a lot more about why the fuck my magic escalated into disobedience to me at an increasing rate lately.

Nayana’s fingers brushed against my hand as I released her biceps, relaying her gratitude and telling me she was fine, all through the tiny contact. How I understood so much in such a small gesture, I couldn’t even fathom.

“You know the drill, Scriosta.”

“Intimately.” My jaw locked, and my teeth screamed under pressure as I sauntered over to the far wall.

“And you, human scum, place your unworthy body over there.”

My breath got stuck in my lungs as the creature inside me rattled its chains.

How did he dare insult her the whole fucking time?

Seconds away from spinning around and snarling at Galrach, I clamped down hard on the urge to maim, kill, destroy. On repetition, those words rose to a crescendo in my brain, only battled by my reason yelling against the chanted order to protect her at all costs.

When I reached the rough stone wall, which was illuminated by the usual foul green flickering of the glowing moss growing all over almost every surface of the cavern, I extended my fingers, skimming over the only expanse not covered by the sentient plant.

A multitude of winters ago, the interconnected creature had tried to reclaim this spot over and over again, but at one point, the pest had given up.

A blessing, to be honest.

At least, I would never have to endure the millions of small, needle-like hooks the nameless plague used as roots. A cold shudder ran down my spine at the memory.

“Turn around.” My grandfather’s order interrupted my contemplation, and after steeling my expression, I obeyed. The second of hesitation would cost me dearly enough.

As I faced Galrach, who’d pursued me and stilled only a handful of paces away from me, bile rose in my throat, burning like acid.

Sadistic glee was written all over the king’s features, but that wasn’t new. Still, the triumphant line in the cruel curl of his lip had my nerves quivering with agitation.