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CHAPTER THREE

S even days . Lift. Three hours. Stretch. Forty-two minutes. Lower.

Thwap.

Cassandra Fortin held her wings out and slammed a fist into the hanging bag, rattling its chain.

Seven days . Lift. Three hours . Stretch. Forty-three minutes . Lower.

Thwap.

Time was a funny thing. As a mortal woman, she’d had an ever-present awareness of its scarcity. As if life itself were a leaky bucket, another second lost with every drop.

But even now, in her newly immortal body, the seconds didn’t feel any less precious.

Every moment she spent in this intake tower was a moment further away from Xenia. Further away from Mama. Further away from Borea and the Shrouded Sisters and everyone and everything Cassandra had ever cared about.

Further away from Tristan.

Seven days, three hours, and forty-four minutes, to be precise.

Perhaps that was why she hadn’t yet gotten used to her endless supply of time. Until the Emperor came to deliver her sentence, how could she know how much she had left?

She tried to focus on her exercises, the ones Ronin had shown her to strengthen her back muscles and ensure she could hold her wings properly. He’d instructed her to perform them wherever and whenever possible, so she spent the majority of the hours outside her cell in this empty training room.

Cassandra welcomed the physical distractions—the deep ache in her shoulders, the stiffness in her quads, the sting of her knuckles against the bag.

Lift. Stretch. Lower.

Thwap.

161803, the number on her gray linen shirt, shifted with her movements, rippling over her left breast. Right over that empty place where her heart should’ve been.

She hadn’t yet tested her wind-summoning power. Couldn’t, even if she’d wanted to. It had flickered out mere seconds after her Turning, thanks to the elemental magic suppressants woven into the prison’s impenetrable wards.

But she could feel that she was stronger, even before she’d begun these exercises. Though that strength seemed as inconsequential as her missing heart and the two iridescent white wings springing from her shoulder blades.

The wings were a constant nuisance. It was difficult to get comfortable at night. Before she’d acquired these monstrosities, she’d been a back sleeper. Now, that position was almost painful, what with the itchy bedsheets pulling at her sensitive feathers.

Something she’d never considered before being Turned Fae—how the fuck to get used to a completely new sleeping position.

She was enjoying her newfound ability to curse.

She tried not to think about what had inspired it. That blissful night when she’d given Tristan everything—her heart, her body, her innocence. Herself .

What had happened to him after she was arrested? Eamon hadn’t sent him here to Tartarus, obviously. Was he still his brother’s captive? Or had Eamon already ended him?

Her anxiety about Tristan’s safety was matched only by her anxiety about her sentencing. Not just what it would be, but how Eamon would react when he saw her. When he’d have no doubt about who had Turned her.

Lift. Stretch. Lower.

Thwap.

She attempted to quell her anxieties by running through the list of tasks that lay before her.

First, figure out how in the name of Stygios she was going to hide what she was from Eamon when he arrived.

Second, find Mireille Valette, Ronin’s long-lost… whatever …to see if she had any idea of how they might escape the prison she’d been locked in for two centuries.

And third, after Cassandra, Mireille, Reena, Ronin, and Ronin’s sister, Selene, accomplished said escape, find Tristan. Join the Teles Chrysos. End the Empire.

Those last three goals were so daunting that she didn’t dare ponder them for long. When she did, her lungs seized, her head pounded, and her breath dissolved into a faint wheeze.

The clouds outside shifted, and a beam of sunlight speared into the room. Cassandra lowered her wings and opened the window, sniffing the crisp mountain air. Such a tease to feel the wind on her face but not be able to harness it. To smell her lost freedom.

Had Tristan lost his, too?

The thought stirred Cassandra’s rage, and she volleyed a series of jabs into the bag.

“You done fighting that thing this morning?” Reena stepped into the room, her auburn hair glinting.

“It never fights back.” Cassandra sighed, rustling her feathers.

“Come on.” Reena held out claw-tipped fingers covered with white fur as her striped tail swished lazily behind her.

“Where are we going?” Cassandra asked as Reena dragged her from the training room.

“Ronin wants to talk to us.”

“About what?”

Reena dragged a reverent gaze down Cassandra’s feathered wings.

“About how we’re going to hide those before the Emperor arrives.”

Ronin Matakos sat before the roaring fireplace in the common room, chin propped on a tattooed fist. The dancing flames were stirring up memories.

Of another fortress full of violence and secrets.

Of another frigid landscape surrounded by impenetrable wards.

Of a majestic she-wolf covered in crackling fire.

He’d gotten quite adept at suppressing the memories. A necessity, really, since they made his chest ache fiercely enough to stop his heart.

In the earliest days after that final showdown with Mireille, he thought he might almost welcome such a fate. Better to embrace True Death than live with the unending regret over what they could have been.

But he’d be damned if he ever gave a female the power to ruin him like that again.

Instead, he drowned his feelings beneath an ocean of distractions. His two-faced role on the Imperial Defense Council. His missions for the Teles Chrysos. Too many forgettable females.

You know as well as I do that no one will ever compare , his wolf piped up.

None of that, furball , he snapped back. We agreed on our strategy if we run into her, remember? Cold indifference.

His wolf shrugged. That was before we found that gift she left us.

She left that for Cassandra, not us.

You are a fool , his wolf laughed. A fool in denial of his own feel ? —

ENOUGH , Ronin roared.

His wolf retreated to the depths of mind with a frustrated whine and a softly muttered Someone needs to get laid.

The fire popped and Ronin jolted. Fuck, he was on edge. Maybe he did need to get laid. He wished he had a Delirium. He’d quit decades ago, but the cravings never truly went away. Shifting helped.

He’d done so this morning, his first shift since he’d arrived at the intake tower, and through his wolf’s heightened sense of smell had immediately detected something in a barren corner of the yard. Its scent was painfully familiar—and centuries old if he wasn’t mistaken—but he was still shocked at what he’d found beneath the gravel and packed dirt.

Soft footsteps and rustling wings broke through his musings.

“Well,” he drawled as Reena and Cass shuffled toward him, “look what the big cat dragged in.”

Cass snickered, but Reena rolled her eyes as the two took a seat on the rough stone bench across from him. Cassandra’s face looked strained as she held her wings aloft—a show for the other prisoners in the cavernous room—but not nearly as strained as it had been a week ago. She’d been keeping up with her exercises. Good little soldier.

“Yeah, yeah.” She rubbed her shoulder. “You summoned us?”

“Got a special surprise for you this morning.”

“More exercises?” Cassandra grumbled.

“Way better.” Ronin grinned.

Reena picked at her teeth with black claws.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he warned.

“Why?”

“It’s a show of weakness.”

A low growl crawled up Reena’s throat. “Fuck off, Matakos.”

Ronin shook his head, leaning forward and cradling the treasure in his hands. “Once we pass those mists, you’ll need to put your fangs and claws away. If the other prisoners see them, you’ll be challenged immediately. You show your strength in there by not showing it, you get me?”

“How do you know so much about the prison?” Cassandra asked.

Ronin raised a brow. “Nothing to do with the prison. Learned that lesson in the fighting rings of Kheimos. Those with the loudest bark rarely had the strongest bite.”

In truth, Ronin had been seeking information about Tartarus ever since Selene’s arrest.

Maybe even far, far longer than that, if he were being honest with himself.

The problem was he hadn’t been able to find a single former inmate anywhere. No one that could give him a sense of what awaited him nor help him imagine what Selene—and on his weaker nights, Mireille—might be going through within Tartarus proper.

“When do you think the Emperor will arrive to deliver our sentences?” Reena retracted her fangs and claws.

“Usually takes the Imperial Council about a week to deliberate.” Ronin settled back in his chair. “Which means they’ll be here any day now.”

Cassandra’s wings fell, her voice a panicked whisper. “So, we only have hours to figure out what to do about these?” She gestured to her back.

Ronin shot her an enigmatic smile. “Told you I have a surprise.”

He lifted the vial he’d found nestled in that crumbling box in the yard, the clear liquid within glinting in the fire’s flames.

“What is—” Cassandra asked.

“Veiling potion,” Reena said reverently. “Where in Ethyrios did you get that?”

“Someone left it here for us.” Ronin couldn’t bring himself to say her name.

Cassandra extended him a kindness when she didn’t say it either. “How long has it been there? And how did she know we would need it?”

Ronin rubbed at his scar, an incessant throb taking hold behind his eye-patch. “I have no idea. But from how deeply it was buried, it’s been there for a very, very long time. She…”

Should he tell Cassandra what he knew? About her and Mireille being related? About what Mireille’s father had told her in the Halfway? That Cassandra was Ethyrios’s only chance for survival, and that Mireille was destined to help her?

He hesitated. He didn’t want to add to Cassandra’s already intense mental burden. Plus, if they did find Mireille beyond the mists, perhaps this was a story she should tell Cass herself.

Half of him couldn’t wait to see those two together and the other half… He wasn’t sure his soul would survive it.

“None of that is important right now,” he said sharply. “We’ve got what we need to hide what you are during the sentencing. After that, we find my sister and we stay under the radar as we await our escape.”

Reena snorted. “Oh yeah? Which cavalry is coming to save us then?”

“The Teles Chrysos are very close to achieving their goal of taking back Delos. Once they do, we’ll all be getting out of here.”

“Lucky us,” Cassandra murmured. “So, what are we going to do as we await our escape ?”

“Survive,” Ronin answered.

He was surprised how easy it was, slipping back into command. A role he hadn’t played since those bloody days on the battlefields of Aethalia. And though his forces were much, much smaller now, he still felt the same overwhelming sense of responsibility. To push them. To protect them.

“What about Tristan?” Cassandra whispered, her eyes shining. “Do you know what happened to him?”

Ronin shook his head sadly. “I didn’t see. But the rebellion hinges upon Tristan’s claim to the Crystal Throne. The Teles Chrysos have got members everywhere, including within the highest ranks of the Empire. They’ll find him.”

Cassandra smiled softly, her shoulders loosening. She looked so relieved that Ronin didn’t dare tell her the news that could kill her hope. That Tristan’s former lover, Ione Saros, was a key leader of the movement—and had been particularly vocal about how much she wanted the Prince by her side again.

But Tristan’s complicated love life was none of Ronin’s fucking business. He had enough of his own shit to worry about.

He handed Cassandra the vial, then rose from his chair.

“Where are you going?” Reena asked.

Ronin stared at the crackling fire. “I need to punch something.”

“Me too.” Cassandra stood, sliding the veiling potion into her pocket.

Reena heaved out a sigh and followed the pair out of the hall.

Hours later, even after he was sweaty and spent from pushing his body to the brink, his stubborn memories lingered.

And he had a bad feeling they were only going to get harder to ignore.