5. Aramis

Chapter 5

Aramis

T his is ridiculous," I grumble. My voice echoes off the cold, damp walls as I pace across the worn stone floor of my cell for what feels like the hundredth time.

Running my fingers through my disheveled hair, I take stock of where they've locked me up. The cell is simple, but devoid of life. It contains only a solitary stained wooden bucket, emanating a faint scent of decay, and a humble straw mattress tucked away in the corner, its worn fabric concealed beneath a patchwork blanket. A faint glimmer of the setting sunlight manages to pierce through the narrow-barred window, casting a soft glow that dances upon the swept surface below.

"How long do they plan on keeping me down here?" I ask as I peer through the iron bars. There is no one there to answer. The cold metal barely registers against the weeks' worth of scruff growing on my face. The magical barrier wraps around me, leaving a void where my wind magic resides trapped—a tangible absence in my body. I collapse onto the ground, curling up with my legs pulled to my chest, supporting myself with my arms and chin.

I need a plan. I haven't spent my whole life training to rule this kingdom only to lose it to the very people I want to protect.

I have to believe that Sybil has found a way out of that mountain or the thought of her trapped and alone will kill me. We will be reunited. I will hold her again; I just need to prove my fucking worth first. Raking my hand through my knotted hair,I wince at the pain. Gently, I reach inside and gently stroke the tiny golden thread, the only magic the barrier hasn't suppressed. If only I could talk to her through the bond, make sure she is safe, it would ease my mind.

What to do, I ask myself. I could try to break out, but then what? I'd relinquish the little trust I was trying to gain with these people, my people, and would be back to square one without help. My hands shake as I clenched my fists tightly. I came seeking their help and forgiveness only to be treated... like the villain.

You may not be the bad guy in your story, but you are the villain in mine.

I cringe as Sybil's words come back to me. At the time, when we were traveling through the forest, I did not know it but I was indeed the villain, and not just in her story. I had been the villain for so many shifters by then. I had ruthlessly taken them from their homes and families thinking it was the right thing, thinking it would avenge my mother's death and grant me my father's admiration. The shame of it all tastes acrid on my tongue; it makes me want to crawl into a deep dark hole and never reappear. How will I ever look at my hands again and not see the crimson blood of innocents? I look at the iron bars in front of me, and a little voice inside of me says, good, this is where you belong.

Then, there's another voice, gentle and sweet like honey. She reminds me to be kind to myself. That Tricella has molded me into the villain to these people, my people.I have to believe that all those atrocities were not just my doing or I will never forgive myself, like Sybil somehow has.

I won't stand for it any longer. They deserve freedom from persecution.

I'd give Tricella a taste of her own poison. Determination burns in my gaze as I set my jaw and turn to stare out the small window.

The creaking sound of an opening door sends me to my feet in an instant, but as I peer out of the bars, no one is there. The last of the light is fading, leaving the hallway in dusty, eerie darkness.

"Who goes there? Show yourself," I call out.

Silence stretches as I listen for any sound of movement but I immediately jerk back when a hooded figure steps out of the shadows before my cell, two silver blades in each hand and only the glint of their eyes visible. My body tenses, and my hand reaches for the sword that is not sheathed at its usual place.

"What surprise did I have when you decided to leave the capital and walk straight into the viper's nest?" he hisses. As much as I try, I cannot see its face nor recognize anything from its attire that could give me hints about who this is. I stand my ground, refusing to back up any further.

"Who are you, and what do you want from me?" I instinctively reach for my magic, but that too is gone, making me feel utterly defenseless.

"You have made many enemies, Prince Aramis . How do you know who to trust? "

"I came here and vowed peace," I retort, searching for an accent in its speech. Who the fuck is he?

He jumps, slamming his fists into the cage, bars rattling from the force. "You do not know the meaning of peace," the intruder screams, spittle flying into my face. "You reek of death and destruction. Everything you love will wither under your touch."

"That is not true," I argue, attempting to keep my tone calm and composed. But my mind races to innocent shifters locked in the dungeon, villages burned to the ground, and Sybil trapped under the mountain in the caves.

My right hand shakes as a sharp pain lances my wrist. When I glance down, I see nothing amiss. The cuff sits there untampered, yet it feels as if it's closing on itself, strangling my extremity. I try not to give the pain away but sweat starts beading my forehead. Something is not right.

"Even now, your precious draken is questioning whose side you're really on. Why else would you still be locked in a cell if he had no doubt of your alliance?" The stranger's sharp tooth grin glints from under their hood.

"You speak nothing but lies. Only a coward hides his face and goes against the commands of their superiors to engage in a personal vendetta. Your people granted me a chance to prove myself and Nero would never doubt my loyalty to him and to this cause," I say, even ast my gut twists and doubts fill my mind. The strange pain burns again along my ankles, and I feel the bond inside me turn cold with fear.

Sybil.

The intruder is still speaking but his words are a faraway echo as pure terror laces every inch of my being. My skin shivers and my vision starts tunneling and I widen my stance to keep my balance. I feel dangerously close to losing consciousness. What the hell is happening to her?

"Sybil!" I cry out, grabbing hold of the golden thread, hoping to get more information—anything. The searing sensation of a cold blade slamming into my shoulder pulls me back to reality and terror transforms into blinding anger. Hot blood soaks my tunic from where a silver hilt, simple in its craftsmanship, sticks out.

"You are the spawn of that traitorous queen. You are nothing but her puppet, doing her bidding. For all we know, you're under her magical influence as much as your father is," he sneers before lunging at me with another dagger. I dodge to the side, wincing as the movement causes the first dagger to dig deeper into my flesh.

"She is not my mother, and I am not under some spell," I growl and lunge toward him.

I fist the edge of his tunic through the bars, our faces only inches apart but his hood is still secured in place, and I can't see anything other than his lips and jaw. The man drops the second dagger and grabs my wrist, which is still aching from the phantom wound. I wince, and in that moment of distraction, he lunges toward the dagger still lodged in my shoulder, but before he can take it, I pull him down andwe wrestle to the floor. My knees slam against the filthy stone floor, my skin splitting at the impact. He grins, sharp teeth flashing in the torchlight before his body begins to morph into the ugliest rat I've ever seen. He is the size of a dinner plate with a sickly-colored fur that reminds me of putrid mold. He is missing his right ear and has a scratch down his left eye. The rat looks at me one last time, head tilted in a mocking expression before running away through a crack in the wall.

A door slams and I turn as Nero storms down the passage, muttering, followed by two more sets of footsteps. I turn around and the rat is gone with no trace.

"Aramis. What happened to ye? Get this door open before I rip it off the hinges," Nero says over his shoulder as he rushes over and kneels in front of me, brows furrowed with worry as he assesses every inch of my body, as he's done countless other times to make sure I'm in no imminent danger. As he did when we were kids, the night the assassins came for me and my mother, and he spared me her same fate.

There is a jumble of keys as I yank the dagger from my flesh and toss it to the ground before holding pressure to staunch the flow of blood.Nero's face is stern with determination; he is going to raise hell for what happened. Without saying another word, he hands me a handkerchief to press on the wound and goes to light another torch, shedding even more light on the disgusting cells and hallway.

"What's going on here?" Rogers' voice booms. "We've come to bring you to trial, and we find you in more trouble than we left you."

Before I can respond, the ache in my wrist reminds me of more urgent matters. I ignore Roger and turn to face Nero.

"She's in danger, Nero. I can feel her. Something has happened."

"Aye, and I bet she feels yer pain in ken." His words make me flinch as I realize I know nothing about how a mating bond works. To what extent are our souls bonded? Does she really feel my pain, even though she does not yet know she is my mate? The knowing worry that she will never accept the bond haunts me.

Nero waves his big hands in front of my eyes. "How did ye bloody get stabbed while locked up in a cell mate?"

I shake away my worries and look at Nero's handkerchief, now soaked in blood. If the wound does not stop bleeding soon, I'll need stitches. "Why don't you ask the guards why a shifter was let in to attack me while I was defenseless," I say as I glare at Roger over his shoulder.

"Ach, Aramis I dinna ken who came into this cell and attacked ye, but it was nae Roger. He's been with me the whole time. A shifter, ye say?"

"A shifter wouldn't have been able to get inside your cell without the key. It's spelled to block all magic," Roger says, crossing his arms over his chest, brows furrowed and frowning. "But you also were stripped of all weapons before being put down here…"

"I don't know who it was, I just know they stabbed me through the bars, then when I grabbed them, they transformed into a rat and took off down the hall," I say, gesturing to the opposite direction of where they entered.

They both turn their heads to where I indicated and sniff, as if they could smell out the intruder over the scent of unwashed bodies and mildew.

Nero shakes his head and helps me to my feet. "Let's get ye patched up and over to the council so we can get some answers."

"Nero—" I begin, resting my hand on his shoulder.

"We will get her." His dark eyes are sincere, and I see my same worry haunting him. "But we need help," he continues. "Trust the Goddess she is fine, Aramis. We have already sacrificed too much; she can't take her too."

I nod as I try to ignore the intensifying pain in my shoulder. Rushed decisions will take us nowhere. Nero is right, we need help. This is our purpose here. I tug on the bond, and it feels calm. There's no longer fear or pain coming from Sybil. Does this mean she's safe or has the threat she's encountered made her unable to feel anything?

I stand before the council of Thorns, Nero by my side as I wait for their verdict.The fresh bandage on my shoulder is wrapped tight around my chest, squeezing the air out of my lungs.

"Aramis Adrostos, the council has discussed your crimes as well as your request for help," Victor says, tapping a finger impatiently atop the wooden table.

I nod solemnly, keeping my face neutral and my emotions in check. I have to play the diplomatic prince. The role I was born and trained to play if I am going to survive this and broker peace in Shadowvale.

"You claim to want to save Sybil Vandeleur, last known unicorn shifter in Craeweth, and you need our help in freeing her. You also claim to see the wrong of your ways, and seek to align your cause with ours, removing Tricella from the throne and ensuring, as Crown Prince, a peaceful future in Shadowvale where shifters will always be welcome and treated with the same respect elementals are."

"That is correct."

"But you've spent your life bringing shifters for questioning before your father? Torn families apart looking for those accused of treason? Locked countless numbers of shifters in the castle dungeons, including the aforementioned unicorn shifter."

Heat burns along my cheeks, but I give a curt nod. "I was only doing what I thought was–"

He holds up his hand, and I bite my tongue. Victor's piercing blue eyes set on me, and I feel the weight of his role within this community. He is what I wished my father could have been for our kingdom—someone wise and just. I lower my gaze, suddenly conscious of the prolonged silence, and worry I might have overestimated the benevolence of the shifter rebels. These people owe me nothing, whilst I owe them a debt I will never be able to repay. I hear Victor take in a deep breath before I hear his verdict.

"The council has found you guilty of your crimes."

I tense, ready to defend myself butNero rests his hand on my forearm. Victor clears his throat, eyebrows raised.

"However, Nero Lockheed has vowed on your behalf. He has beenloyal to us, helping provide resources, aid, and informing us of the Queen's plans. While not abstaining you from your crimes against your people, we will allow you to prove your worth on two conditions. Your powers will be magically bound until you prove your worth to your people, and you will be under constant supervision by either Nero or one of the council for as long as you are in this village. We also require more than just your word; we need intel. Information our spies would not be able to obtain. Do you agree to these terms?"

Powerless.

I close my eyes, inhaling deeply. If this is the cost of freedom, the cost to gaining their trust, I will do it. I have a lifetime of regrets and wrongdoings against these people—my people. If I am going to gain their trust, I can hold nothing back.

I can feel the color blanching from my face. Not too long ago, in a forest nestled between Kallistar and Shadowavle, an oily voice spoken by creatures in the shadows whispered to me. How do you judge a man's worth? And now, I'm asking myself the same question.

"Yes. I will do what I must to prove my word is true."

The council nods their heads, and I am shocked to see elementals at the table.

"Come forth," Victor says as he stands, holding two teal bands. Sweat coats my palms as I anxiously approach the table, all eyes trained on me.

I will not fail. I will not falter.

But who will I be without my powers?

My stomach twists, my mouth going dry as I lift my hands before him, willing them not to shake. A female with jet-black hair rises beside Victor and slides the bands over my wrist. I fight the urge to pull away and rip the bands away as she closes her hands over my wrist.

Her eyes light up a molten gray, hands shimmering as the metal begins to writhe under her fingertips, pulsing with magic. The stone strewn around my neck under my shirt pulsates, my heart beats racing in my ears until everything is drowned out except the sound of wind. Then, there is silence.