13. Rhyland

Rhyland

13

T his room still smells like rotten shit, no matter how fancy they doll it up. The queen can take her silk sheets and shove them up her royal ass.

My boots are heavy on the pristine rugs covering cold stone floors. Velvet drapes hang limply over arched windows, blocking out the moonlight. The four-poster bed creaks with every step, its silken canopy sagging.

I slam a fist against thestonestill my knuckles split. The pain's nothing compared to being cut off fromDani. Our bond hits black silence every time I reach out.

Is she even still breathing on the other end?

My mind races, trying to make sense of this mate situation. It's still a fucking mystery to me like I'm stumbling around in the dark, grasping at straws. I can't help but wonder, if something happened toDani, wouldn't I feel it? Wouldn't there be some gut-wrenching, soul-crushing sensation that would let me know my other half was in danger?

Being kept apart is a worse torture than anything these faerie fuckers could whip up. It's enough to make a man lose his mind.

The door rattles suddenly under the impact of heavy bodies, shaking me from my thoughts. I freeze, every sense heightened—the queen's guards collapsing.

Lucian's muffled laughter echoes nearby, his mercurial mood ever tickled by violence.

It's about fucking time that servant girl put her potion plan to work! Now's our chance to ditch this nightmare and findDani.

The door creaks open, keys jangling, andMeadowprances inside. "Come, My Lord! Let's go!"

I pin the faerie with a piercing look. "You're certain the oafs won't stir?"

Meadowflashes a wicked grin. "But of course! Those dullards are out colder than winter's grasp after the sleeping draught I brewed." She preens proudly. "Why, they'll not wake if the whole west tower came crashing down!"

I let out a grunt, unimpressed by her puffery. But she wasn't bullshitting about knocking out the guards. This is our shot to bail out of this rat hole. I'll shred this court to rubble once I'm free of this cursed neck trap. And when I'm done, when my rage hits like a storm, we'll see who's left shaking in their boots.

I barrel past, nearly bowling the slight girl over in my haste. She yelps, skittering aside. Fumbling with her ring of stolen keys,MeadowunlocksLucian's door next. He explodes out in a blur, landing inches from her startled face.

"Boo!" He chuckles at her startled squeak. "Easy there, Tinkerbell. No need to wet the fairy dust on my account."

Meadow's expression hardens slightly, though she holds her composure. "Why do you seem so... different?" she asks, her tone measured yet inquisitive, seeking to understand the enigma before her.

Lucianbarks another laugh, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Different? Moi? Why, whatever do you mean, my dear little pixie stick?"

I silence him with a cutting glare.Meadowcautiously averts her gaze.

"The library,Mouse," I prompt sharply. "And swiftly. Dawn approaches, and I've languished in this fucking stink hole long enough."

W e flit phantom-like through the winding corpse bowels of this wretched castle. The air lies thick and cloying, saturated with decay's subtle taint beneath all the elaborate trimmings. No amount of plush rugs or glinting goldwork can mask the creeping rot festering at this court's writhing heart.

Up ahead,Meadowprances nimbly through pooled torch glow, slipping between shadows with practiced ease. Guess when you're indentured to tyrants, learning to make yourself scarce becomes a handy skill.

Luciantrails her, chuckling under his breath. He is undoubtedly already delighting in visions of mayhem poised to erupt from this half-cocked escape. He is always easy to entertain when it comes to wreaking havoc.

Meadowstops at the base of a narrow spiral staircase, disappearing into utter blackness above.

"My Lord, the eastern library. The book you need is said to be perched right at the top shelf, against the back wall—a real relic with pages yellowed by time, wrapped in dragon skin, and held together by dimmed silver clasps."

I repress a snort. Wonderful. Just my shit-cursed luck that some moth-eaten book too valuable to discard, yet too 'dangerous' for easy access, must be my salvation from Amara's chokehold. Given my piss-poor fortunes lately, the bloody thing will probably disintegrate the moment my fingertips glance at its spine.

Chuckling wickedly, my damned brother thrives on the absurdity of the situation. "Ha. Well, shit just hit epic levels of ass-clenching excitement! Our little champ's got a freaking Oscar-worthy talent for drama, doesn't she?"

He leers down atMeadow, daring her to rise to his baiting tone. But the slight faerie ignoresLucianstoically, not even sparing him the dignity of a nasty glare. Ballsy faerie, she's proven so far tonight; I'll give her that much.

Course, if this entire goat-screw caper goes tits-up and lands us chained back in Amara's torture gardens for treason, I won't hesitate to feedMeadow's pert little face to the queen's pet hellhounds piece by shrieking piece. A cold comfort perhaps, but bloody satisfying should worse come to worst.

"Make haste, My Lord."Meadowis clearly ready to move.

Squaring my shoulders with forced resolve, I take the first cramped, ascending steps toward the dusty repository above and potential freedom. We hit the peak of the twisting stairwell and tread along a shadow-drenched hallway. My vision sharpens, adapting to the pitch black. The only sound is the dull echo of our steps on the stone. The stench up here is oppressive, like inhaling decades of dust and decay.

Moments later, my hand rests upon the library's weathered oak door. I push hard on the heavy doors; the smell of books wafts through the air, a combination of musty old paper, ink, and history reaching me as I step inside the massive library. My boots scuff against the marble floors as I stride through the foyer toward the rows of bookshelves before me. I see a staircase to my left to the upper level.

We ascend the stairs, and a question finally claws its way to the surface. I shootMeadowa hard glance that nearly trips her up. "You've said you've seen me in your so-called visions. Out with it—what did you actually see?"

Meadowglances away evasively before responding. "Forgive my impertinence, but I have seen you many nights in prophetic dreams...a storied warrior bathed in otherworldly flame, striking down endless shadows." She fiddles anxiously with her tattered hem. "Always a presence glows behind you—blinding in its radiance. I know not what it signifies, only that you stand central amidst The Light, My Lord."

Despite the apparent allusion toDani's celestial magic, I keep my face carefully neutral. It's better if the girl remains ignorant of my mate's role.

Lucian's irreverent snort echoes from behind. "Well, well, the brooding king with spotlights and all. Gotta be a real bitch trying to find a suitably gloomy corner to perfect that sulking routine, eh?"

I shootLuciana withering glare and trudge up the stairs, his snickering trailing behind me.

She hesitates before continuing haltingly. "The visions... I have seen lightning crack open the sky above you, My Lord. Thunder shakes the heavens... a mighty hammer."

I freeze, nailing the faerie with a stare potent enough to make her shrink back. She's got some nerve, tossing around tales of my ancestors—legends long turned to dust in the minds of men. Her words shoot a cold shock straight down my spine.

How the hell does this audacious little thing know to drop names of old Norse thunder gods? Is it just bad fortune that she's plucking these bits of ancient myth out of thin air, or is there something more to these "visions" of hers?

Or maybe the little seer's got her wires crossed—mixing up who I am withDani's divine firepower. "What's this? Pulling fables out of your hat in your sleep, are we,Mouse? Since when have you been the expert on Gods of Thunder?"

Meadowsquirms as we come to a stop on the landing, her fingers all tangled in her braid, betraying her frets. "I'm sorry, My Lord. It's just... these visions, they're broken bits and pieces—like a puzzle I can't quite solve," she stammers out an apology. She falters briefly under my probing stare. "It's just...such godly power and chaos I witness surrounding you...lightning and fury."

I halt in my tracks, my glare dropping heavily on her slight frame. "Seems like your so-called visions are just getting their wires crossed,Mouse. You're babbling about my Norse heritage, and that's as far as it goes."Meadowopens her mouth to protest, but I silence her rebuttal. We've no time for foolish debate over fanciful whims.

I stand firm, locking eyes with her. "Look, where I come from, we got legends of badass gods—ever heard of Thor? Yeah, God of Thunder and all that shit. But let's get something straight—I ain't him. No godly magic here," I say, dead serious.

Meadowpulls at her braid, twisting it between anxious fingers. "But My Lord, the visions—"

"Enough. Keep your eyes peeled and on point,Mouse," I bark, with an edge sharp enough to cleave through steel. I slice through her words, my patience wearing threadbare. We've got to score that cursed book and get the hell out of this cesspit, not scurry after her fairy-tale ramblings.

Meadowdips her head, duly subdued, and steers us deeper into the library's labyrinth, aiming for the prize. But inside, my mind's a tempest, thoughts whipping around like a storm's fury unleashed.

In his ever-so-charming pain-in-the-ass manner, "Oh snap, somebody got a celestial upgrade to Thunder God status! This is comedy gold. So, do you get the hammer and cape as a signing bonus, or...?"

His quip is cut short by the icy slice of my glare.Meadow's eyes flicker nervously from him to me as I let the urgency in my voice drill into the air. "Enough games. Where's this damn book that's supposed to bust us out of the hag's clutches?"

We come to a stop before a monolithic shelf, and a weight drops in my chest. Even with the perks of my vampiric nature, scaling this beast won't be a walk in the park. It rears up, a whopping fifteen feet of deliberate intimidation, hoarding its trove of knowledge just beyond the layman's reach. The damned grimoire rests inside a locked glass case to boot. Because simply grabbing an unguarded book would be too fucking convenient.

Powerless to call the book down with my mind, I'm itching to use it, to feel that familiar pull—but it's locked tight behind this damned collar's magic. So here I am, stuck doing the grunt work like any regular Joe without a hint of the supernatural.

Muttering a silent curse for this particular flavor of hell, I fall back several paces, muscles tensing for the inevitable. I have no choice but to muscle through this the old-fashioned way. I break into a run, springing with all the force my legs can muster, climbing with a blend of raw strength and lethal precision.

As I climb, the air turns to ice, and each upward heave meets colder resistance. When my hand punches through the final barrier, shattering a pane of glass that never stood a chance, and I grab the grimoire's silver and leather, a fierce grin cuts across my face. Not even a second to bask in glory, I lob the book to the ground. "Heads up!" The word's barely out before the grimoire's plummeting toward unsuspecting hands below.

Meadowyelps, scrambling to intercept the falling prize. ButLucian, damn show-off that he is—always playing for the spotlight—he's there in a flash, snagging the book with a triumphant smirk, already thumbing through the leaves as if he was the one who'd conquered those heights.

"Ohh, we've got a couple of badasses over here! Swiping off-limits loot and giving the palace a little forced feng shui? James Dean would be proud, you little rebels!"

I spare breath only to growl at him while sliding down the vertiginous bookstack. "Stow it before your jaw gets acquainted with my fist."

Freedom awaits discovery within those crumbling pages... as soon as feeling returns properly to my legs.

I hit the ground with predatory grace, teeth bared in a feral smile of victory. The spellbook we've been after is finally ours, in arm's reach—my get-out-of-jail-free card from this enchantment-infested collar.

I zero in onMeadow. "The countercurse—dig it out,Mouse," I command, nodding toward the grimoire clutched inMeadow's trembling grasp. She's eyeing that worn cover with a fervor that'd make a bookworm blush, her attention fixed with a fanatic's glint.

"I-I've waited so long just to glimpse this forbidden knowledge! Never did I dare dream I would one day unlock such vast power!"Meadowwhispers reverently, stroking the tome.

Lucian inspects his nails with an exaggerated eye-roll and heaves a melodramatic sigh, "Bra-vo. Now, be a dear and work that mystical mumbo-jumbo pronto, yeah? Unless you're itching to accessorize with those stylish iron cuffs again."

Meadownods jerkily, flipping through the yellowed pages with frantic care. The musty parchment crinkles loudly in the library silence. "One moment."

Moments trickle past agonizingly. "By all means, take your sweet ass time. I'll go for a leisurely stroll, maybe peruse the library's naughty book collection while I'm at it. I'm sure they won't mind me borrowing a few more forbidden tomes—"

Lucian's smart-ass commentary is swiftly interrupted by a sharp 'oof' as my pointed elbow meets his ribs. Trying not to smile,Meadowshakes her head and dives back into decoding the arcane script, silent as a tomb.

"This inscription—" She points to a spell in the book. "I believe it references the runic collar spellwork used on both of you!"Meadowblurts excitedly.

My undead heart kicks into furious life as I peer over her bony shoulder.

At fucking last!

"You positive you can reverse the binding magic,Mouse?" I demand harshly.

She meets my glare unflinchingly this time. "The counter-ritual proves complex, but, yes... if I study it properly, I am certain this knowledge can negate your collars."

Meadow's claim to undo our chains sparks hot triumph... quickly iced by lingering doubt.

"Study it properly? The hell does that mean,Mouse? We've no luxury for you to sit here cramming like some pupil."

Panic flickers acrossMeadow's pale face. She opens her mouth, but only a quaver emerges.

Lucianrakes both hands down his face melodramatically. "Well, isn't this just fucky luck? Little Miss Brainiac needs a study break before unscrambling fae witchcraft shit..." He rounds onMeadow, eyes a storm. "Here's some math for you, flower—we've got about twenty damn minutes before Mistress Crowned Sadist starts wondering why her boy toys haven't come crawling back to heel yet."

Amara's got a rep for craving her wild shindigs when the clock strikes late, andLucian's hitting the nail right on the fucking head. Chances are, she'll come sniffing around for us soon enough.

I fix a steely gaze on the girl, barely holding it together, and let out a low snarl. "Time frame,Mouse. Cut the crap—how long 'til you bust this wicked enchantment?"

Her throat bobs. "A-an hour at least... maybe more ... forgive me!"

In a blind fury, I spin around, and my fist flies, obliterating the creaky old shelf behindMeadowinto a storm of splinters, showcasing just a taste of my unbridled power.

Meadowlets out a high-pitched squeak and scuttles backward like a startled cricket, hugging that tome to her chest like a lifeline.

The hellish miles between me andDaniare tearing me apart—every damn tick of the clock feels like a year, and that gap where our connection used to burn bright is just fucking emptiness now, pulling at my mind like a relentless void. Without her, I'm just a lost bastard at sea, with no direction, sinking into that goddamn darkness, with none of her light to guide me back.

"For fuck's sake,Rhy, get a grip!"Luciansnarls, his voice cracking like a whip. "Blowing up bookshelves helps no one." He grabs my shoulder with bruising strength that I scarcely feel. "We need Pixie Brain here intact if we wanna ditch dog collars, yeah? So put a chokehold on that temper!"

I grit my teeth, battling the urge to unleash the fury within, the beast that's clawing to break free.Lucian's words cut through the bullshit—flipping my lid will only land us in hotter water. So I hold it back, muscles knotted, forcing the monster back into its cage.

Then the damn shouting shatters the silence in the library, booming through the corridors. The queen's hellhounds are going batshit below, growling and snapping, their noise mixed with the cold, hard clang of the guards locking shit down.Lucianand I lock eyes, and it's as if we're peering into the same deep hellhole. My gut drops as if it's sprouted wings and taken flight.

I grabMeadow's delicate wrist in a vise grip, pulling her hard as we sprint like hell through the library's upper levels—my mind races with escape routes.

Slip into hiding? Useless—those bloodhounds will track us down.

Stand our ground and fight? No way in hell with these magic collars still clamped on us.

My gaze snaps to the prize—a majestic stained glass window, the moon's light turning it into a masterpiece of color. It's a Hail Mary, crammed with risks, but with our backs against the wall and capture breathing down our necks, it's the one move we have left.

Without hesitating, I gun it for that window, our rainbow-tinted escape hatch. Beside me,Meadow's panic hits a fever pitch, her frantic pleas soaring as she tries to pull against me and my momentum.

"We're seven stories up, My Lord," she whispers. "I won't survive that drop!" comes her high-pitched protest, terror raising each note.

I don't bother with sweet talk. In one quick move, I hoist the tiny fae up, tucking her under my arm like she's a damn inconvenience. Her fingers are white-knuckled around that grimoire, fear turning her grip ghostly, the tome pressed against her heaving chest.

"Trust me, I'm your best shot. Now, hold on." I order, hearing the urgency in my own voice.

Meadow looks at me, her eyes two terrified pools reflecting the lightning decision in my mind. And then we're crashing through the stained glass, an explosion of colors tearing apart around us.

For a heartbeat, we're caught in freefall's silent embrace, the night air a cool caress against my skin... then reality rushes back with the cruel tug of gravity.

Then Lucian, a shadow against the moon, his howl of exhilaration piercing the night right behind us.