Prisoners

PRISONERS

A rush of icy wind slaps my face as we materialize outside the imposing gates of the Northern Trinity.

The revelation that teleportation is a thing both fills me with childlike wonder and pisses me the fuck off.

If the council possesses door-to-door service like this, it further begs the question of why they let Hartford Cove nearly be destroyed. We saved ourselves at great cost before they bothered to answer our distress call.

A shiver wracks through me, the sweater I was wearing when they captured us offering little protection against the biting cold. Snow crunches under my bare feet as we wait outside the bleak stone walls of what can only be called a fortress.

Before we even reached our house, Aven made a call, and they whisked us away to this much colder climate. Aven divested Esme of her wand, giving it to Gael to add to his collection.

Zane and Esme huddle close, arms wrapped around each other, heads bowed in resignation, like they expect to be sentenced to death.

The place does hold that kind of vibe. Like the entrance is a guillotine that will lop off our heads as soon as we pass through. A symbol blazes from the imposing doors, a triad of crimson moons entwined with thorny vines.

“Well, they sure know how to roll out the welcome mat,” I mutter, my breath puffing in the frigid air as I dance from foot to foot to avoid frostbite.

“The Northern Trinity is rumored to be the least friendly of the factions.” Ambros ignores our jailors to lift me into his arms, one warm hand cupping around my frozen foot. “They’d better be planning to give you some socks and shoes.”

Gael grimaces. “We’re not barbarians.”

“ do not dictate their accommodations,” Aven counters, then tenses when Owen growls. “ However, my brother is right. We’ll find you something to use until your trial.”

“Wonderful.” I bury my frozen nose against Ambros’s throat and whisper, “Will you check on Haut and Tris as soon as we’re processed, or whatever they do with prisoners here?”

“Of course.” He reaches for my other foot. “But they’ll be okay.”

The massive iron gates creak open, and armed guards come out to flank us on either side, wands at the ready.

“ must walk in without assistance,” the one at the front barks at us.

Ros’s arms tighten around me. “Forget it. I’m not putting my mate down without shoes in the snow.”

The guard’s wand lifts, but Waylon steps in. “It’s fine, Russel. She can walk once we’re inside.”

“They came peacefully,” Gael adds. “They won’t cause any trouble.”

“They’re already causing trouble,” Russel mutters. “You’ve caused quite the stir requesting transportation for so many people. The Trinity?—”

“Let’s speak more once we have everyone secured,” Aven interrupts, his tone sharp.

Russel peers over his shoulder at the gate. “Easier said than done, young master. ”

Young master ?

When I push on Ros’s shoulder, he obliges by lifting me higher so I can see over everyone’s heads.

Past the clump of guards, I spot a woman standing at the gate, wrapped in a steel gray robe that matches the winter cold. She wears her brown hair pulled back into a bun, and glasses perch on the tip of her nose, leaving her familiar, hazel eyes unobstructed.

I reach down to nudge Gael. “Is she your mom?”

“Grandmother,” he whispers, his voice tight. “And she hates having her evening tea interrupted.”

Shocked, I turn back to look at the woman again. No way is she old enough to be a grandmother.

“Come along, then.” Aven starts forward, and the guards form a barrier around us, with the Hutchen brothers safely on the outside, away from us scary criminals and our sponsors.

I cuddle closer to Ros as we’re marched into the courtyard, and Granny Hutchen falls into stride with her grandsons.

“You left on a simple grading mission,” she hisses, unaware or uncaring that the wind carries their conversation back to us. “How did you mess up so royally? ”

“We finished the grading, ma’am.” Aven’s shoulders stiffen. “All of this came after.”

“What of Hartford Cove?” She casts a glare back at us. “Are they dangerous? Need we be concerned?”

I stiffen at the word. So, the Hutchen brothers came to spy on us. I knew there was a reason I felt so threatened!

I pinch Ros’s ear, and he grunts in agreement, though his face remains impassive.

“Based on our observations, they are a peaceful town who just want to live quietly and not be bothered.” Aven clasps his hands behind his back. “I do not believe they have any interest in the politics of the paranormal world.”

I snort. Of course we don’t. We already have too much drama with the pie feud.

Now, Ros pinches me, shaking his head in warning.

“Peaceful, or a sanctuary for criminals?” The question comes with another glare cast in our direction. “Could you not have brought them back in a less flashy manner? Now everyone will know they’re here.”

“Is there a reason everyone shouldn’t know they’re here?” Aven asks, his flat tone prickling my senses. He doesn’t wait for his grandmother to respond before continuing. “Besides, Draven had one of her dogs waiting on the road outside of town. It would have attacked us.”

My stomach sinks. Another council dog? Why didn’t the barrier warn me? Unless this one didn’t try to get through and was just waiting for Esme and Zane to come out?

Granny curses. “That woman continues to be a thorn in our sides.”

“So kick her out,” Waylon advises.

“She’s our great-aunt,” Aven protests.

“For better or worse,” Granny mutters.

As they lapse into silence, I take in the stone walls surrounding us.

Elaborate runes and symbols pulse with ancient magic, their energy humming in the air. Defensive magic? Wards of protection?

Aspen would know, but when I peer at him over Ros’s shoulder, his face remains a blank mask.

Owen steps closer to us, his presence reassuring even though he’s as trapped as the rest of us. “I don’t like it here.”

I nod in agreement, fixing my eyes straight ahead as we enter a stairwell that leads deeper into the bowels of the icy fortress. Our group narrows, guards funneling into a two-person line that puts more distance between us and the Hutchens.

Owen walks at the front of our group, with Esme and Zane falling into step behind him. Ros follows, still carrying me, and Aspen takes up our rear. The rest of the guards follow him, leaving no room for a last-ditch escape.

The reality of how much trouble we’re in settles like a lead weight in my stomach, and I cling to Ambros. We’re at the mercy of the Northern Trinity now, for better or worse. Given my interactions with the Hutchen brothers so far, I have a sinking feeling it will be decidedly worse.

Our procession halts, and cold dread washes over me. The groan of a door opening sounds from up ahead, and a rush of cold, stale air streaks past us.

We start moving again, and cells come into view on either side of us. Two guards grab Owen, hauling him into one of the middle cages on the left. Two more guards grab hold of Zane and Esme, separating them. Zane goes into a cell next to Owen, while Esme is pushed into one across from him on the right.

A guard approaches Ros, and my mate’s lips peel back with a hiss of warning .

When the guard backs off, Ros walks me into the prison next to Esme’s, setting me on the cot inside. He shrugs out of his sweater, bundling it around me in a cloud of warmth.

With a quick kiss, he whispers, “We’ll get you out of this.”

Then he backs out of the cell.

A guard steps into the doorway. “The cells are warded against your powers, so don’t think you can escape.”

I give him a salute, and the heavy iron bars clang shut with finality.

The guards lead Ros and Aspen away, leaving us with the Hutchens.

Granny peers in at me, her head tilted to the side. “ This is the last of the Rothavens?”

I lift a hand and wiggle my fingers at her.

She snorts. “I thought you’d be…taller?”

“Didn’t we all? My grandmother was close to six feet tall, with hips for days. So nice to snuggle up to while she read me bedtime stories.” My gaze travels over her gaunt figure before I turn to Gael. “Condolences.”

His lips twitch before he wipes it away.

Granny straightens her spine to her full height, which can’t be more than an inch or two taller than me. “You would do best to show respect.”

“So people keep telling me.” I shrug. “Show me something worth respecting, and I will. So far, the Trinities have been rather… lacking .”

Granny’s head snaps back. “Excuse me?”

I turn on my mattress to face her, my legs folded. “How does the teleportation thing work? Is it something all the Trinities have access to?”

“Of course.” Her chin lifts. “It’s proof of mastery over our magic.”

“Wow, that’s so impressive.” I prop my chin on my hand. “It must come in so handy when sending help to, say, a town under threat of mass genocide from a fanatical group.”

She frowns.

“Oh, wait, it doesn’t.” I snap my fingers. “You guys let that kind of thing happen while you look the other way. How very impressive. So worthy of respect.”

Her shoulders square. “Young lady, you would do well not to antagonize your superiors.”

I widen my eyes at her. “Didn’t you hear? We last of the Rothavens are teeny tiny balls of antagonistic energy. ”

“It’s probably why you all went extinct,” Aven says dryly.

Shooting finger guns at him, I wink.

“Come, Grandmother.” Waylon gestures back toward the door we came through. “She’s just going to keep poking to see what kind of reaction you give her.”

“Such a spoilsport,” I call out as they walk away. “This is why you’re my least favorite brother!”

Gael lingers as the others leave. “You shouldn’t have done that. She’s part of the tribunal.”

“Why not?” I arch a brow. “It’s not like she would go easier on me if I licked her boots.”

“No, that would have earned her contempt.” He glances toward where the others disappeared before stepping closer to my cell. “What did you mean by genocide?”

I frown at him. “Hartford Cove houses the largest population of wolf shifters. Had they died, it would have put their species on the endangered list.”

He grips one of the bars. “Why would they die?”

My frown deepens. “Because when the huntsmen attacked us, we called for help from this much-flaunted council of yours, and no one came to help until after the battle ended. If not for Mel and the witches we saved from the Sunlight Project, Hartford Cove would have been wiped out. Ergo, wolf shifters would have become next to extinct.”

His knuckles turn white as his grip tightens. “When did this happen?”

“Back in September.” I clasp my hands in my lap. “It’s why vampires now live in Hartford Cove. We took in those who sided with Ambros against his father.”

“You’re sure no council witches arrived before it ended?”

“Yep.”

His expression turns troubled. “What’s the Sun?—”

“Gael,” Aven calls. “Are you coming?”

“Ask Ambros. He was there for it all.”

“I’ll find you something for your feet. And more blankets.” With a nod, he strides away.

Once the door creaks closed, I bounce to my feet and pull the mattress off my bed, dragging it to the bars. Kneeling on it, I stick my arm through, patting the cold stones. “Esme.”

A sniffle comes from her cell, and a moment later, warm fingers curl around mine, squeezing tight.

Across from me, Owen moves to sit in front of his bars, facing me, and Zane does the same, his attention on his mate.

None of us speak as minutes stretch into hours in the eerie silence of the dungeon, broken only by the occasional distant cries of other prisoners. Even through the mattress, the icy cold seeps into my bones, numbing my body.

My eyes burn as I rest my head against the bars, but I refuse to blink. If I do, the tears will spill over.

“I’m so sorry, Rowe,” Esme breaks the silence, her voice cracking. “We never should have dragged you into this.”

“Friends take care of each other.” I squeeze her fingers. “We’re going to get out of here. The council will see reason.”

Her hand trembles in mine. “I want to believe that, but I’m so scared.”

“I’m scared, too. But Delilah said the council investigates the black marks before handing out justice.” I try to pass some of my stubborn resolve to her through my touch. “They’ll realize it was self-defense as soon as they investigate what happened between you and that asshole… Sorry, I’m bad with names.”

“Calix,” she supplies. “Calix Draven. ”

I freeze, and across from me, Owen’s lips form a curse.

“Rowe?” Esme whispers.

I imbue my words with false confidence. “They’ll realize Calix was an abusive asshole and absolve you of all wrongdoing.”

“Thank you,” she sniffles. “I hope you’re right.”

“I am,” I reassure her with none of the confidence I had when I tied my fate to hers not even an hour ago.

Had I known Calix was the nephew of one of the Northern Trinity, would I have made different choices?

No. Because it’s not friendship if you’re only there for the easy times. Esme and Zane deserve a fighting chance at survival.