Chapter Thirty-Three

CHAPTER

THIRTY-THREE

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M Y GOWN FLUTTERS FROM THE ICY CHILL RISING FROM the dark cellar beneath the brothel, and the rickety steps look like they're about to fall apart. Knives line my legs no matter what I wear, and something as simple as a gown won't tamper with my bloodlust.

"He's restrained," Ryder says from the bottom of the steps.

I give my eyes a few moments to adjust to the dim light provided by a few torches lining the stone walls. The air down here is damp and reeks of mold. It's obvious nobody comes down here from the layers of dust cloaking every surface. A man stands with his head bowed, and dark cascading hair obscures his features. His wrists are chained by two shackles attached to ceiling beams.

"How do you wish to proceed?" Cayden asks.

"His room will need to be searched and his partners questioned." Lips always get loose during pillow talk.

"I'll start with the room," Finnian says. That's probably for the best. Finnian has never judged me for reveling in revenge, but that doesn't mean he enjoys watching the ways I lose myself in my methods. Something in my brain shifted after knowing the cruelty of this world long before I should have.

"Knock on the door when you're done so I can help with the questioning," Ryder says.

I turn toward the man once Finnian shuts the door. Chains rattle as he shifts in place, slowly lifting his head. I've seen this pair of soulless eyes before. "Princess Elowen, how lovely to see you again."

Robick's voice is one that's haunted me for years. As Garrick's most trusted guard, he took the beatings further than most and looked forward to our sessions. Craved them. Beating me was the best part of his day. Cayden and Ryder stiffen and exchange a glance above my head.

I have the overwhelming urge to throw my body in a bucket of acid to rid my skin of the memory of his hands. He might appear handsome to someone other than me, with his sapphire eyes and a strong jaw. But abusers learn to weaponize their charm. You can't always detect them as someone detects poison in a drink.

"Robick." I dip my hands into the slit of my dress and pluck two knives from my thigh, twirling them as I step forward. "I must confess I prefer you to be the one in chains."

Cayden and Ryder unsheathe their swords, and Robick laughs while glancing between them. "I will not betray my king when I know death is inevitable."

"You will beg for death long before it embraces you," Cayden states.

"The infamous Commander Veles," Robick drawls. "I could tell by the scar."

My fist collides with his nose, and his head flies back from the force. An idea sparks in my mind and I sheathe my knives for later use, wrapping my hands around a broom in the corner as the sound of a cane breaking my ribs plays in my mind as clear as if Robick were hitting me right now. I break off the bristled end and turn back to him.

"I see that the memories of our time together stuck with you." I do my best to ignore his taunts and focus on this opportunity. "Do you remember how you begged?"

I deliver a swift hit to his ribs with the splintered side of the broom, and his cry is one of the sweetest sounds I've had the privilege of hearing. I pull back and deliver several more until his ribs snap.

"Hit me all you wish. I won't tell you anything," he rasps.

"Hitting you is for my enjoyment." I laugh, delivering another hit and noting the bloodstained splinters with delight. "Torturing you is for information."

I swing it into his stomach before discarding the pole and circling to the front of his slumped frame. Blood drips from his lip when I roughly lift his chin, forcing him to look at me with the eyes that used to light up when he first drew blood during a session. I dreaded his presence above all others, and had feared him for so long, but no more.

He slumps when I drop his chin and glance toward the hooks on the ground that the chains are threaded through. "I need the chains lowered and the table brought to me."

Robick's breathing becomes heavier, shakier.

"Which is his sword hand?" Cayden asks.

"His right."

Cayden places the table where I need it, and he and Ryder resume their original positions behind me. The pair of them look ready to pummel Robick into the earth, but a hint of sadness graces Ryder's features. Cayden's anger consumes him and transforms him into the demon whispered about throughout Ravaryn. The demon his enemies have nightmares of in their next lives. No form of salvation or reincarnation will be enough to escape Cayden Veles.

"You both have my permission to wait by the steps."

"We're staying," Cayden says, and Ryder nods.

I unsheathe my knife again and the familiar weight brings me comfort. When my nightmares made my throat raw from screaming, I thought of a moment like this. I gathered all the broken shards of myself, even when it felt like all the pieces couldn't fit in my hands, and forged a sword sharp enough to slay any enemy. I found solace in vengeance. Violence made me into a monster, but dedication made me lethal.

"How many dragons do I have?" The table creaks when I pin Robick's hand to it. "Don't want to talk?" I glide my knife down his cheek, and he grunts when I press it hard enough to draw blood. "We can count together."

His body shakes as he fights to keep any noises of pain and fear trapped behind his tight lips. But he can't stop the guttural scream from echoing around us when I slice off his thumb and flick it to the side. Blood gushes from the gash and coats the table.

"That was for Venatrix," I say above his screams.

I cut off the second finger, ignoring his pain. "For Sorin."

Third finger. "For Calithea."

Fourth finger. "For Basilius."

Fifth finger. "For Delmira."

I kick the table to the side once I finish and grasp his face, smearing blood onto his lips and tightening my grip when he tries to recoil. "Are you working with anyone here?"

I squeeze the fresh gashes that ooze blood like a waterfall.

"NO!" he wails. "Not even criminals will take a job after that sadistic bastard executed his own fucking soldier."

No sign of a lie lingers on his face. His blood drips down my face and soaks my gown, but I have no urge to wipe it away.

"Where is the key to the dragons' chains kept?"

"You can't open them with a key." He gives me a delirious, pain-drenched smile and glances at my neck. "The object to unlock them was stolen."

"The amulet," I state. The amulet must call to the chains, forged from the same magic. I wish the priestess spoke truths rather than riddles so I could make sense of how she knew to take it.

Disbelief blankets his features before he recovers, baring his teeth like a rabid dog. "You will die in this war and be put down like the bitch you are."

My eyes flick to the shackles on his wrists, staring down the man who helped take everything from me. "A death with a blade in my hands is far more enticing than a death in chains."

"King Garrick was smart to lock you up."

"And a fool for never finding me in exile."

"He tried to save you from that prophecy," he snarls.

"Save me ?" I raise my brows. "Forgive me for not recognizing his generosity sooner. I suppose I should also give thanks for his dedication to preserving my virtue by forbidding you from taking the torture down the route you wished in hopes of selling me to a kingdom once my bond was broken."

Although I was a prisoner, I was still a princess. He needed me to be an asset to the kingdom if the time came for an advantageous marriage.

Cayden's sword clatters on the ground as he slips between Robick and me, landing a punch so severe the chains strain against the bolts on the ceiling. "You sick bastard!" he shouts, wrapping a hand around Robick's throat and continuing the assault. Robick cries and thrashes but can't escape Cayden's grip. Ryder pulls Cayden back before he can snap Robick's neck without realizing.

"Not yet," he snarls, trying and failing to keep Cayden restrained.

"Not yet." I echo Ryder's words when Cayden is about to lunge for Robick again. He halts, dragging his gaze to mine and looking at me with eyes that would implore someone to end themself before he gets hold of them. He hesitates but nods, and Ryder releases him when he's sure Cayden won't pounce.

"I may have spent years in chains, but make no mistake when I tell you that you will die in them," I state, turning back to Robick. He's gasping like a fish out of water, with blood covering most of his skin. "In fact, I'd like to take this moment and thank you for a lesson you taught me."

I never begged for myself when he beat me; I begged for my dragons. I pleaded for them to be set free. I'd take the beatings until I died if it meant they didn't have to suffer, and I'd sacrifice myself to save them. Even when I was battered to the point I couldn't move, I could still feel my dragons. That bond kept me tethered to this world when death seemed much more inviting than living.

"You taught me that desperation is the greatest leverage." I round his body and direct my next statement to Cayden and Ryder. "Did you know that the guards and soldiers of Imirath have a series of numbers sewn into their shirts?"

Robick thrashes against the chains, splashing more blood in the process, but can't escape the knife I bring to the fabric. I'm careful to keep it as clean as possible while tucking it into my bodice. "It helps their bodies be identified if they die on the field or on a mission, and their families will be contacted."

"Leave my family out of this," he chokes.

"Allow me to bestow a lesson upon you, Robick. Don't teach someone the ways of torture and expect them to forget the origin of their pain."

"I'll tell you anything about your dragons. I know how to forge the key to unlock the chamber!"

"As do I."

"Leave my family out of this. I beg you."

"I've made many men beg; your performance is subpar." I tsk. "We know everything we need. You have no leverage here. You're powerless."

"PLEASE, PRINCESS!"

I laugh at his poor attempts. "You care for your family, and yet you had no qualms about spending your time in a brothel. I'm going to burn the cloak of morality you hide behind. Perhaps I'll begin by informing them how you stripped me bare on occasion." Shame bubbles in my throat, but watching him suffer under the weight of his own actions is worth it. I step forward again to cut the clothes off his body, wanting him to feel just as humiliated and small as I did.

Garrick's orders didn't stop him from threatening me with the methods he wished to use, nor did it stop him from running his hands over me. Which is exactly why I step forward and castrate him. Avenging myself and any others he may have touched without consent. He sobs and screams, bleeds and pleads to the gods. But his prayers are useless because the only gods present are myself and my blades.

I've seen him grovel and made him bleed, but now I want to watch him bleed. My fighting skills are aim, stealth, and scheming. I don't land the hardest punches, but Cayden can make him suffer the beatings I did at his hands.

"Your turn, demon."

Cayden erupts in a wave of violence and ferocity. Feral growls slip from his lips as blood splatters his face and coats his hands. He lands punch after punch, fisting Robick's hair to bring him back into the line of fire.

"Please," Robick slurs. "Please, please, please."

"I'm going to make you wish you were dead long before Elowen ends you," Cayden snarls. Robick collapses in the puddles of blood when Cayden releases the chains from the hooks on the floor. We watch Robick stumble to his feet, swaying when he finally gets there and he sloppily limps toward me.

Cayden locks his arm around his neck before he takes three steps. Robick claws against the tight hold, smearing Cayden with more blood. "You can die with the knowledge that no matter what you did to Elowen, she won."

Cayden releases his hold and throws Robick into the blood again, and he glares at me when he flips over, gasping for breath.

"Don't fucking look at her." Cayden's voice drips in poison as he drops to his knees, pinning Robick's body between his thighs. He unsheathes my knife from his thigh, slashing Robick's eyes, causing his body to contort in pain as his cries amplify. Cayden forces Robick's mouth open, and he screeches when blood pours from him like a fountain. The tongue is tossed aside, and Cayden tips Robick's head up, drowning Robick in his own blood as it slides up his nostrils and pools in his mouth. He's a coughing, sputtering mess. Robick has lost all fight in him by the time he's yanked forward, spitting his blood at Cayden, coating his face and hair.

If wrath were personified, it would look like this version of Cayden.

He drags Robick back to where he was initially standing and chains him into a kneeling position. He's broken and on the brink of death. Blood sloshes under my slippers and drenches the hem of my gown. I take time committing this version of Robick to memory. This is the face that will replace the original in some of my darkest memories and nightmares.

"You deserve to have your torture dragged out for days," I begin, squatting in front of him. "But I'm going to be busy bringing Garrick and Imirath to their gods-damned knees after I free my dragons."

He sobs before I slide my blade clean across his throat and his blood sprays my face for the final time. I feel like I'm frozen in time. He's dead, I tell myself.

He's dead.

He's dead.

It becomes a chant in my mind, but doubt continues creeping in. I sink my knife into his heart before pulling it out and get ready to strike again, but a hand clasps my wrist. Another hand gently turns my head away from Robick, and I stare into the eyes of the one person who I think understands me in this moment. Being understood and accepted is one of the greatest forms of intimacy. He doesn't shy away from my darkness; he walks toward it and kneels with me in the blood we've spilled.

"I'm here for whatever you need." I can't form words, so I hang on to his reassuring expression and calm voice. His hand on my face is keeping me from disappearing into my past. "But he's dead, El."

"He's dead," I echo in a hoarse voice, and my knife clatters on the ground when it slips from my fingers.

"You got your revenge." He speaks softly, but there's nothing weak in his tone.

"I wish he took the memories with him." I wonder what it would be like to glide through the world instead of braving it every time I left my home.

"I know," he murmurs. "But if you allow me, I'll find a way to help you carry them when they get too heavy."

"Remembering everything makes me feel sick. Sometimes I don't know how to live with all the pain." I recall the lash marks on his back. "How do you?"

"I use the memories as armor and ammunition. Nobody wins harder than someone who once lost everything. Don't let them take more from you." He picks up my knife and holds it out to me. "You're so much braver than you believe, and stronger than you feel in this moment."

I sheathe it on my thigh, taking breaths until my heart stops galloping in my chest. He's giving me the choice of how I end this night, but I don't want to spend another moment in the presence of Robick. He's dead.

"I want to leave," I firmly state. Cayden nods, helping me to my feet while I glance where Ryder watches us in fascination. "I'm sorry you had to see this."

I don't want him thinking less of me. I've found happiness in the moments spent with the five of us, and I don't want to lose it so soon.

"Never apologize for a kill you deserved to take. I would have done the same." A dark grimace contorts his face, and his deep brown eyes meet mine in earnest. "I'm going to find Finnian so we can handle the questioning and leave as soon as possible."

Cayden presses a hand into my back and ushers me up the steps. "We can wash up before you leave if you wish."

When we step into the light, proof of the cruelty we're capable of is written in crimson against our skin. Even after we wash it off, it will forever linger. Having any part of Robick on me disgusts me, but I want to send a message.

"I want to ride to the border like this," I say, sliding my hand into his. He makes me feel like I don't have to face every threat alone because he'll be right here—unjudging, understanding, and just as bloody as me. "I want my enemies to know what fate awaits them if they make an attempt on my life. Ravaryn is threatened by my existence, but I won't hide any longer."

"I rather enjoy it when you threaten me." Something comes alive in me when he slides his fingers down my face like I'm the most delicate thing he's ever held. "Your enemies are my enemies, El. Never doubt that."