Chapter 4

Chapter

Four

~ Dante ~

W e finish filling our cart with crystals just before a bell rings from somewhere in the cavern, and the prisoners start putting down their pickaxes. Sweat streams past my eyes, and I wipe it away angrily with my arm, focusing on the burn of my muscles. My princess, my mate , has been taken from me, and diverting my energy to collecting crystals is the only thing that’s gotten me through the last few hours without doing something I regret. There’s no point in getting myself killed before I can find her.

Fuck. When we’d entered the portal to Seral, I’d been looking forward to having Blake in my arms…finally warming my bed… and riding my…

“Get in line!” our guard shouts, snapping me back to reality.

I fight down my irritation and give him a devilish smile. His face blanches a little, but his scowl doesn’t fade. I’m going to kill him first when I get the cuff off me. I’m willing to wager he knows it, too. In fact, the moment I get the chance I intend to kill everyone who played a part in taking my delectable princess from me.

Starting forward, I follow Nate and the others as we form an orderly line with the prisoners, then as a group we move toward a tunnel on our left. The prisoner who had been whipped mercilessly, the prince , according to what we’d heard, staggers on his feet a few places in front of Alaric. His back is ruined, a display of torn flesh and blood, but even now defiance still shines in his eyes. He’s tough, that one, and I eye the male curiously wondering how long he’s been imprisoned here.

Wherever ‘here’ is. In any case, I’m guessing the guards expected their treatment of him to serve as a warning to the prisoners, but they failed miserably. Whenever the prince looks in the direction of the other prisoners, they try and straighten their curved backs and lift their chins a little higher. No, despite what the guards were attempting, it was becoming obvious that the prisoners respected this fallen prince, and respect could be a dangerous thing in a place like this. At that thought, my mind goes back to my formidable, winged princess, and her fiery tongue. I smirk, thinking of how she’s probably giving her captors a hard time, if she hasn’t escaped already, but then I remember the cuffs and my smile falls. If anyone has harmed her… I don’t let myself think about it. Instead, I focus my attention on the prince, because something tells me he’s going to be our way out of this.

It's not long before the guards stop us, and Alaric, Nate, Prince Callan, and I are forced into an empty cell. I pretend not to notice that our fallen prince sneaks into the cell next to ours. Crafty prince, I muse internally .

Turning, I assess our new surroundings. The cell is painfully small with a single narrow cot against the back wall, a bucket in the corner, and the iron bars at the front which seal us in. I eye the single bed and raise a brow.

“Not uncommon in prisons,” Nate comments, striding past me.

“What is?” I ask.

“Testin’ prisoners like this. They’ll give less portions of food, beddin’, water, you name it. The idea is to get us fightin’ with each other, so we have no energy to fight our captors,” the shifter explains.

“And here I thought the guards were unable to count,” I drawl with a smile.

Alaric settles on the floor, resting his back against the wall, and Prince Callan paces the room, his wings folded behind his back as he tests for weak spots in the bars, looking even more annoyed than I am. Nate pounces onto the cot, and he stretches out in an entirely feline gesture, folding his hands behind his head.

“I thought the bed was some kind of test?” I point out, not entirely pleased that he beat me to the cot.

“Oh, it is,” Nate agrees with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “But I deserve this.”

“And how do you figure that?” Prince Callan asks coldly, looking like he’s contemplating pulling Nate’s ass from the bed just to piss the shifter off.

“Well, because for once I’m not in prison because of somethin’ I did, so I figure I at least deserve a cat nap,” Nate replies, yawning and closing his eyes like he intends to do just that. “Actually, this would be the second time,” he corrects. “But who’s counting?”

I find a spot on the floor, not in the mood to argue with the shifter. Had the cot been wider, I would have suggested that we share.

“None of us signed up for this,” Prince Callan retorts, and Alaric grunts in agreement.

“And neither did Blake,” I drawl, my body tightening and my tail flicking as I say her name out loud. The name of my princess. The others all tense as well, and Prince Callan scowls, clenching his fists like just saying her name has physically hurt him.

“So, we’d better find a way to get out of this shithole so we can rescue her,” I go on. “Before we all have to live the rest of our miserable lives without our mate.”

No one replies for a long moment, and I exhale loudly, running a hand over my horns. “You all might be intent on pretending she’s not ours, but I’ve tasted my princess, and I don’t intend to let her be imprisoned by whoever rules this place.”

“From what I saw, the princess can look after herself,” Alaric growls, though from the giant’s rigid body I know he’s as affected by our mate’s kidnapping as I am. As we all are.

The thought of the four of us bonding with Blake makes my cock harden, and I push away the delicious images working into my mind. Even if those delectable images are the only thing currently keeping my desire for violence at bay.

“And what do you suggest?” Prince Callan asks, his keen gaze on me. “We’re disadvantaged with these cuffs and without our power.”

I turn to Nate who’s lounging on the cot like he’s content to sleep for the next few hours. When I’d visited the beast realm in the past, I’d heard talk of a renowned thief nicknamed, Nine Lives. I hadn’t realized that’s who Nate was when I’d first met him in Perstalia. “From what I’ve heard, you’re supposed to be an expert at getting out of places like this,” I say to him, genuinely curious at his relaxed demeanor.

He cracks his eyes open, and his slitted gaze slides to a scowling Prince Callan before he focuses on me. “It takes time,” he replies cryptically.

“That’s his way of saying he doesn’t know a fucking thing,” Alaric snarls.

Nate fixes the assassin with a stare. “Now, I didn’t say that.”

“Then tell us, shifter,” I drawl. “What are you saying, exactly?”

A playful gleam shines in Nate’s eyes as he props himself up on his elbows. “For starters, I know the guards here each have an assigned cluster of prisoners they watch over, and if I’m right, replacement guards will be here soon for the night watch.”

As if on cue, there’s chatter in the tunnel beyond the cell, and I peer out, watching as the day guards swap with fresh guards. The new guards take their places standing sentry against the wall opposite the cells.

“We could all deduce that,” Prince Callan says coldly.

“And while they’re intent on makin’ us suffer,” Nate goes on, ignoring the prince, “it’s obvious they genuinely need the crystals we mine. This means two things. First, there must be some system in place to ferry the stones out of here. Second, it means that while they’ll weaken us, they’ll want to keep us strong enough to lift our pickaxes.”

I frown. “Tell that to some of the prisoners we saw today. Some of them are no more than walking bones.”

“My point is,” Nate says, “they’re goin’ to want to feed us, and unless they have a kitchen here in the mines, that food is goin’ to come from outside.”

“Hmmm,” I muse, contemplating this. It’s an interesting point, because back in Seral if you were sent to the dungeons beneath the castle, according to the rumors, food was the last thing you could expect to receive during your likely brief stay. Demons could live without food, but if enough time passed, the lack of sustenance would take its toll.

As if Lady Fate herself is keen to prove Nate’s point, it’s at that moment that a trolley appears outside our cell. A male servant crouches, sliding up the bars at the bottom of our door to reveal a small opening. Carefully, he pushes four trays of food inside our cell, then he closes the opening and moves on, wheeling his trolley away.

Nate jumps up from the cot, and he grabs one of the trays before getting comfortable on the bed again. I can’t say the food looks appetizing, but I grab one of the trays for myself, and Prince Callan does the same. Alaric doesn’t move from where he sits.

I find my position on the floor again, and I stir the plate of gray mush with my wooden spoon, unable to bring myself to put any of it into my mouth.

“Tastes like wood shavin’s,” Nate says through a mouthful of food. “You’re gonna want to eat. We’ll need our strength.”

“Unless it’s poison,” Alaric warns gruffly.

Nate shrugs. “Could be. But I doubt it. If they’d wanted us dead, they would’ve ended us when we first came through that portal and were unconscious.”

I still can’t convince myself to bring the disgusting gloop to my lips.

“He’s right,” an unfamiliar masculine voice says. “It’s not poisoned.” It takes me a moment to realize the sound is coming from a small grate on the bottom right wall beneath the cot. Laughter comes from the guards across the tunnel, and I share a look with Nate before moving closer to the right wall of the cell.

“Who is this, and why should we believe you?” I ask.

There’s a dry chuckle. “You shouldn’t,” the voice replies, only answering my second question.

Nate places his tray of food down and frowns. “Fuck, now even I’ve lost my appetite.”

The chuckle comes again, raspy and weak.

“I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess you’re the prince we saw today?” I drawl, assuming that we must be talking to the male prisoner who was whipped mercilessly by the guards.

There’s a beat of silence, but then our new friend replies. “I was.”

“And I’m also going to presume that you shouldn’t be talking to us,” I add.

“Correct, again,” the prince replies. “But provided you don’t call the guards over, we should be just fine.”

None of us ask why he’s risking talking to us. We could use all the information we can get. Even if we can’t trust it.

“So, prince of what, exactly?” Prince Callan asks coldly. “Or, where, I should say.”

There’s another pause before the prince finally replies, “You’re in The Haven.”

“Sorry, but did you say haven? I think that word must have a different meanin’ for our kind, because this doesn’t look like a haven to me,” Nate jokes.

“Trust me, it doesn’t look like this everywhere,” the prince replies. “While it can’t compare to the old city, even I have to admit that what he created is beautiful.”

I feel a little relieved to hear that. If that’s the case, then maybe my princess is being held somewhere nicer than this prison.

“You said ‘he’ created,” Alaric growls. “Who is this creator?”

“Hmm don’t let him hear you call him ‘the creator,’” the stranger replies. “He’d like that too much. But I’m referring to King Celzar. Ruler of The Haven and monarch to the remaining inhabitants of Perstalia.”

Nate lets out a low whistle. “Perstalia? So, some of you survived the blast?”

“Some of us survived,” the prince agrees. “Others, thrived . ” There’s bitterness in his tone when he says the last part.

“And where exactly are we in comparison to the old Perstalia?” Prince Callan asks. “Are we in a new realm?”

The prince chuckles again. “Celzar likes to think of it that way, but no. We’re simply far below the surface of our old city.”

Fuck.

We’re all silent as we process that information.

Nate is the first to speak again. “Underground, huh? We can work with that,” he comments, going back to eating his food. “We just need to find a way to return to the surface.”

“It’s not that simple,” our new friend says. “The only way to travel there is by using the portal key. The king wears the ring at all times.”

Nate places his tray onto the cot and cracks his knuckles. “That doesn’t sound too bad. Get me close to the king, and I’ll have that key in no time.”

“Don’t forget about our cuffs,” I remind him, gesturing to the cuff around his ankle.

“Yes, about that. Any information for us?” Nate says to the Perstalian prince.

“No,” is the curt reply.

I curse again, and so do the others.

“You haven’t told us why you’re risking speaking to us,” Prince Callan says.

Nate flexes. “I’m guessin’ this king guy is a piece of shit, considering you’re in here. What are you, the rightful ruler to the throne or somethin’, and he threw you in here so he could rule in your place?”

“It’s complicated,” the prince replies.

“But you think we can help you get out of here,” I say, and when the prince doesn’t reply I know I’m right.

Nate claps his hands together. “So we simply need to break you out so you can take the king’s place, somehow remove these cuffs, and use the portal key to return to the surface. Any great escape plan you want to share with the group?”

“Not really,” the prince admits, but then he adds, “But for Celzar to even bring you here, he must have plans for you, and that means opportunities.”

I cross my arms in front of my chest. “Well, we’d better figure out something, because if we don’t find Blake soon, I’m going to start killing people, consequences be dammed.”

“Blake?” the prince asks.

“Our mate,” I drawl, and it feels so good every time I admit that out loud. For years, I’d kept it to myself, not declaring it to the world, and now satisfaction goes through me at being able to publicly voice the claim.

“Who is this, Blake?” the male asks.

“She’s the future queen of Seral, realm of the demons,” I reply proudly.

“Our fated mate, so it happens,” Nate adds.

“And a pain in my ass,” Prince Callan grumbles.

Alaric doesn’t say anything, but I note the way his body reacts to hearing the sound of our princess’s name again. His muscles grow tight, and his gaze is sharp.

“…If she’s the future queen, I take it she’s powerful?” the prince asks.

I grow wary. “You could say that. Why?”

There’s another pause before the prince speaks. “That explains why he wants her.”

“What do you mean?” Alaric speaks up, his voice gruff.

“Celzar steals power from others,” the prince explains. “It’s how he was able to take over the throne. He’s as strong as the power he feeds on, and it’s been a long time since his last big meal.”

My expression hardens as I think of this Celzar and how he’s probably holding Blake captive. “So, what you’re saying is…”

“He’s planning to take your princess’s power,” the prince says bluntly.

Rage flows through me at the idea of some king taking what belongs to my demon mate. Before I can ask more, the bars at the front of our cell rattle as the door swings open. Javier, the guard who had been watching us all day strides inside, flanked by three other guards.

“Funny, I don’t remember ordering night-time entertainment,” I drawl, though my eye twitches at the sudden intrusion.

Javier bares his teeth, smiling cruelly at us. “Couldn’t leave for the night without singin’ you all a lullaby, now could I?”

I smile back at him, because this is precisely what I need. I’m on my feet and my hand is jabbing into the guard’s throat before he can utter another word. He splutters, jerking back as his mouth opens and closes like he’s a fish starving for air. Before I can deliver another blow, the other guards step forward. One of them slams their steel baton onto my cuff, while another delivers a punch to my nose. Pain ricochets through me as I’m forced to my knees, and I smile as blood trails from my nose.

“And here I was hopin’ we might escape the obligatory beatin’ for new arrivals that’s common in prisons,” Nate mutters, finally moving from his relaxed position on the cot. “All right,” the shifter says, facing the guards as Prince Callan and Alaric tense. “Let’s get this over with.”