Page 91 of Ruin of Revenants

And apparently my father was already suspicious, Archer went on, which is why he sent that worthless weasel to watch you anyway. I fear I made things worse. He was blaming me for the recent escaped phoenixes. The guards stormed in and overwhelmed Orchid and me. They wanted to chain us both, but I was able to argue against that since you were already unconscious. My word must still hold a little power.

I guess this means the wedding’s off, I jested, trying to find light in the situation. I can’t believe I killed someone. My magic took over. I didn’t want to—I knew I was going to die, that it’d take us both, and that he was going to tell the king what I am. I panicked and my fire rose to protect me.

Archer must have felt my guilt and sorrow through our bond, because he sent a gentle thought: I’m glad you killed that worthless male, or I would have done the job for you. You did what you had to. He’s not worthy of your thoughts, let alone your tears.

It’s still…it’s haunting. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to stop the horrific images from replaying in my head.

I know. That’s because you’re a better fae than him. But don’t let that break you.

I clung to the comfort of his words.

And…I’m glad you’re all right. Not just for my own sake, Feathers.

Not for long, I imagine. Does your father know about our bond? Would he try to spare you?

This time, the pause was longer. I stood from my place on the floor, the world tilting a little and my legs shaking. If I didn’t get water and food soon, I’d be too weak to do much more than curl up on the questionable-looking cot in the corner of my cell.

I don’t think he will, Archer responded at last.

I approached my door, peering through the bars at the stone passage lit by flickering torches. Across from me, Archer was at the bars of his cell, watching me with earnest but weary green eyes.

“What are we going to do?” I whispered. My voice came out raspy, each word painful in my parched throat.

His words were firm and confident in my head. We’re going to find a way to escape.

Chapter Forty-Four

Archer

I wasn’t entirely sure why I didn’t tell Isoria the full truth of how she’d died and I’d stabbed myself in the heart. That we’d both been burned and remade in her flames.

I’d woken disoriented, thirsty, and exhausted, only to find that Isoria was still burning beside me. That had been terrifying, though the flames had snuffed out not long afterward, leaving her unconscious. Orchid had hurried to clean her up, and I’d had enough time to worry that maybe she’d been too hurt to recover, that her magic had only had the strength to save me and not her, that something had gone terribly wrong…when the guards had stormed in.

Poor Orchid was backhanded and left unconscious. I’d fought as long as I could, injuring one and knocking another out, but I was too weak to wield my magic. They’d overwhelmed me in mere minutes, taking me in chains to the dungeons.

Now, I recalled the words Scarlet had spoken when I’d hunted her down for help. You’re in love with a phoenix shifter.

It felt too new, too vulnerable, to try to open myself up to sharing these tangled emotions with her. Seeing her bleeding out, looking frail as I’d held her in my arms—even the memory gripped me with terror. I wasn’t delusional enough to imagine that she felt anything similar toward me. I was the prince who hunted her kind, the one prophesied to destroy all phoenix shifters or be destroyed by them.

I smiled wryly to myself in the darkness of my cell. It seemed the latter might come to pass after all. Isoria was indeed my ruin. The trouble was, with her resurrection complete, Isoria was out of second chances, and I couldn’t risk her final life. I’d do whatever it took, even if it risked my own life, to get us out of here and try to rewrite our fate.

It could have been hours or days later. The guards had come and gone, bringing the occasional barely-palatable meal and cups of water. I’d had time after waking to drink, but Isoria had not. I’d begged the guards to give my portions to her, but only some listened.

The ones who would stand with you to oppose your father, I thought, once again recalling Grey’s words to me what now, after dying alongside Isoria, felt like a lifetime ago. Did he still feel the same way, now that he knew I sympathized with the very phoenixes we’d spent years hunting together? That I was engaged to one?

I sat slumped against the wall, pretending to sleep, when I spotted Grey through the bars of my door, as if summoned by my own thoughts. He hesitated outside my cell, the orange torchlight reflecting in the dark pools of his eyes. His expression was impossible to read.

“Your Highness?” he murmured in a voice meant for only me to hear.

I straightened, trying to act dignified when I was sitting on a filthy floor, staring down whatever fate my father chose for me.

“I’m here,” I muttered.

He stepped up to the bars, peering into the shadows consuming my cell.

“Is it true? Is your betrothed truly…” He swallowed, his throat working.

He hates me. They all hate me. What were Owen and Lily thinking now that they knew the truth? Were they eagerly awaiting my sentencing so they could cheer on my execution? What about Cliff and General Starblood or any of the other guards and soldiers I’d served alongside? The hollowness in my chest worsened.