Page 95 of Ruin of Revenants

They clicked with a heart-stopping finality. I winced as a fresh onslaught of pain racked my body. Suddenly, there was a horrible void in me, a sense that I’d had magic once, but couldn’t even remember what I’d wielded, what I’d been capable of. I choked back an involuntary sob.

The male laughed cruelly, blue eyes glinting with vile delight. “Surely we can have a little fun on this trip and enjoy watching this demon suffer. His Majesty said the bond would kill them both if one dies, not that the prince will hurt if she does.”

Archer? I thought again, his name sounding frantic in my own head. Was he awake? Was he still trapped in his cell too, or had they already dragged him out?

I’m here. It was Archer’s voice in my head, the most beautiful sound I’d heard in a while.

And then his form was darkening the entrance to my cell.

“Look,” the male was saying, “just one touch—” He lifted his arm to backhand me, but Archer was there in an instant, the male’s fist crushed in his fierce grip.

The male choked on a strangled scream, the sound of popping, crunching bones so nauseating I choked on bile.

Archer swung his opposite fist, slamming it into the male’s nose. Blood burst from it as he continued to scream, crumpling into a pathetic, sobbing heap.

“Don’t you dare touch her,” Archer ground out. “Get out of here before I break your other hand too.”

Scrambling to his feet, the male retreated, his sobs still echoing down the dungeon passageway. Only the female remained, her fear palatable as she hesitated near the entrance.

“Don’t do anything careless,” she warned, her voice wobbling slightly. “King Wystan armed us with forget-me-not-infused weapons.”

“We import those forget-me-nots,” Archer said, his brow furrowing in confusion and anger. “We’ve never had enough to—”

“Thank the general and his daughter, Lily Starblood. Her arranged betrothal all those years ago allowed the king to strike a deal recently to have more forget-me-nots imported from Brighthollow. He had these weapons specially made for the increasing phoenix threat with all the escapees when he had these cells installed in the dungeon.”

Clearly caught off guard, Archer turned to me, his green eyes blazing. But his hands were impossibly gentle as he grasped my shackled hands. “And to think I was once like them,” he muttered.

Emotion overcame me, and I felt incapable of doing anything but stare at him, taking in this protective side. You were never like them, I thought, but only in the confines of my own mind.

But I wasn’t sure what to make of the feelings swelling between us through our bond, and there wasn’t time for untangling them. Archer was a good male, that much was certain, but just because he didn’t want to see someone he now knew was innocent hurt didn’t mean he also had feelings for me.

I no longer believed he’d manipulate my emotions like I once suspected, but that didn’t mean our bond wasn’t making them stronger than they would normally be.

It wasn’t as if a future between us would be possible, anyway.

“Your Highness,” the female said, her tone full of more deference than earlier, “your father urged haste. And he said the shackles must stay on the fire de—” She cleared her throat. “On the prisoner.”

I’m so sorry, Isa. If we don’t cooperate and tolerate these bloody shackles, Father will curse the consequences and kill you. I can’t let you die.

Breathing deeply despite the pain, I nodded. “I understand. Let’s go.” As we walked, I sent my own thoughts toward him, grateful we had a private way of communicating so the guard couldn’t eavesdrop. I’m glad it doesn’t affect our bond…but does the bond mean my shackles affect your magic too?

Yes, I’m afraid we’ll both be unable to use magic on this journey.

A pang struck my chest, but I wasn’t surprised.

With the female following closely, hand on her sword hilt, Archer led me out of the dungeons, clinging to my hand the whole time as if he thought I’d slip away if he released me.

Anyone we encountered in the castle halls appeared confused, unsure how to respond to us. They bowed and dipped their heads respectfully toward their prince, but their eyes skimmed over me, the condemned prisoner temporarily freed for their prince’s sake. At last, we were outside, where heavy clouds cloaked the starlight and threatened rain. We entered the haven of Cliff’s stables, the air still and humid but cooler from the bubbling stream and shadows beneath the trees.

Three unfamiliar guards, all male and absurdly muscular, stood off to one side, giving Cliff’s jaguars a wide berth. But my eyes lingered on Archer’s driver, who was patting down Gorgeous and Princess and placing collars on them, and Archer’s friends, Lily and Owen, who stood nearby.

For a long moment, I was afraid to move, trying to read their expressions to see what they thought of me now that they knew what I was. They’ll show mercy because of Archer and the bond, surely, I thought, my breath turning shallow. But they’ll hate me.

Lily ran to me. My muscles tensed, preparing for her to slap me across the face and scream at me for my deception. For my false friendship. Instead, she threw her arms around me, pulling me into a fierce hug.

My breath caught in my throat. I choked back a sob and leaned into her.

“We’re with you, Isoria,” Lily proclaimed, her voice carrying loudly enough to be heard by the guards, but there was no fear or shame in her tone. “You’re the same female who’s been our faithful friend, and we trust you. We’re going to make it through this. All of us.”