Page 8

Jude

You better have spent the money I sent on the boy. If I find out it all went to ale, you’ll be hearing from my men. And they aren’t nearly as nice as I am.

Letter from The Sly Fox Tavern, sent to Jake Maddox, year 3 2 of the curse

“How long has he been asleep?”

“Five hours, sir.”

“Tell the king I’m here and I’ll report shortly.”

I groaned, opening my eyes. Boots thudded against the stones. I counted only one pair.

They’d unhooked my shackles from the wall, allowing me to move around—not that I got far. My hands were still encircled by the cuffs, that peculiar metal digging into my wrists painfully.

Climbing to my feet, off the soiled pallet, I forced myself to stand tall. Stabbing aches fired down my back, the dizzying rush nearly causing my vision to turn black. If I didn’t clean my new wounds soon, they’d become infected.

The foreboding footsteps came to a halt.

I squinted. A cloaked figure loomed behind the bars, but it wasn’t Cirian. This man had to be around six and a half feet, and tufts of auburn hair poked out—

My heartbeat thudded in my ears, louder than any of the man’s steps.

I went rigid. “Harlow?”

A key turned in the lock, and a second later, it swung open with a groan, revealing the lieutenant’s scowling face.

We’d never been friends, not like Isiah and me, and talking to the man was akin to having a conversation with a brick wall. But if he was here now…

He’d been sent to interrogate me.

The ache of betrayal settled in my gut.

“You’ve fallen far, Maddox,” Harlow said, his voice rougher than stones and just as cutting. He sauntered into the dimly lit cell, lowering his hood. His gaze flicked behind him, and then he began to circle me, the whites of his eyes flashing. “I see you didn’t retrieve the cure , then?”

When I didn’t deign to speak, he continued. “Most people with any sense wouldn’t hold out on Cirian. He’s hounding for the blade and very disappointed you didn’t kill the girl.” Harlow heaved a sigh, assessing me like I was a puzzle with a missing piece. “You know he’ll instruct me to search the entire kingdom for her. She’s still out there, running. Alive.”

A wave of pure , animalistic fury wrestled through me.

“Touch Kiara and I’ll flay you. Slowly,” I threatened through gritted teeth. My magic burned my chest as an image of her flickered across my thoughts, her body broken and in a matching cell.

Harlow or any of Cirian’s sadistic men wouldn’t get to her. Not while air still filled my lungs. At least they hadn’t caught her trail.

I limped over to where Harlow stood, my upper lip curled as I added, “I’m disappointed in you . All this time, I thought you were one of the rare good ones in the palace. Not one of Cirian’s mindless minions. You certainly proved me wrong.”

Perhaps I couldn’t trust my gut as I’d thought.

Harlow shook his head, a weary expression contorting his angular features.

“You know nothing, Jude,” he whispered. “And you have no idea what I’d be willing to do to defend my kingdom.” He chanced a look over his shoulder before turning back to me. “You have to listen to me. Nothing is what it appears, but I think you already knew that.”

My brows scrunched at his words.

“Your destiny doesn’t have you dying here,” Harlow said, his voice firm. “You’ve trusted all the wrong people for so long, and now it’s time for you to trust me.”

He was simply trying to gain my confidence. I knew this trick well.

I spat in his face, and the thick globules dripped sluggishly down to his chin. He swiped the insult with his sleeve, sneering.

Gods, that had felt good.

“Clean yourself up, Commander,” he ordered a little too loudly, his hand diving into his pocket to retrieve something. He tossed it at me. I caught it with a grunt, my back stretching painfully, my lacerations pulled taut.

A jar of healing ointment. The same kind I’d once given Kiara.

Harlow bestowed me a lingering look reeking of sympathy.

I bit my cheek until I tasted blood.

I wanted absolutely nothing from him, especially not his pity.

The note the king had given me before I’d left for the Mist danced across my mind. Cirian had wanted Kiara dead—to destroy the power she held trapped inside her mortal frame.

As a leader of the Knights, I couldn’t picture Harlow following through on the plan, but…the king did hold him in exceptionally high regard. Harlow heeded the king without thought, perhaps even knowing his true ambitions.

Harlow turned when I snatched his cloak, halting him. I had to make one final appeal.

“Harlow.”

He flinched, craning his neck until his eyes bored into mine. I thought I glimpsed a hint of remorse, however small.

“You claim all you wish to do is defend our realm, but if you capture Kiara, you will be its ruin. If Cirian has told you the truth at all.”

If she was killed with any mortal weapon, Raina’s power would die with her. Not that I’d allow anyone near her with the Godslayer. I’d kill any who tried.

I wanted Harlow to deny my claim, for his face to scrunch in confusion. It didn’t.

Harlow shook me off, his expression once again turning unreadable. “Stay alive, Maddox, and when we meet again, maybe things will be clearer for you. I’m not your enemy. I never was.”

Then why didn’t he speak of what he knew? He claimed he didn’t plot against me, but he still marched from the cell and bolted it, locking me in. A prisoner.

Harlow wasn’t my friend or ally. The ointment had to be a trick.

With him at the helm, it would be a matter of time before he found Kiara. That ache in my chest grew, becoming painful. I barely noticed the way the cuts on my back split open as I paced.

I had to get out of here. Had to warn her.

I’d been in worse situations before, and while exhausted and beaten, I wouldn’t stop until I broke out of this prison. I grasped the jar of healing ointment, nearly crushing it in my hold.

Unscrewing the lid, I scooped some salve on my fingers, wincing as I reached around and brushed it on the smarting lacerations.

Cirian and his men had caught me off guard in Fortuna, but in a day or two, I would be ready to fight my way out of here. If they didn’t kill me before I healed.

My hand fell across the scar bonding me to Kiara. Against the impossible, I still sought her in the darkness, a lost ship seeking a beacon of light to guide its way home. Magic had saved us both, and it wouldn’t be easily dismissed.