8. Aramis

Chapter 8

Aramis

I s this really necessary?" I pull at my doubly bound hands behind my back, metal and rope chafing my skin. The new bands feel strange on my wrists and the lack of magic still echoes within me. Heat flushing up my neck, the guards forcefully push me to the ground. My knees sink into the unforgiving hardness of the council's room floor, sending a jolt of discomfort through my body. Gazing upward, I meet the intense gazes of the council members one by one. Nero was made to leave the room and I'm now a lamb in a wolf's den.

"Aramis Adrostos, son of Lysander Adrastos," Victor says, gaze locking on mine with unnerving intensity. "You have forsaken your magic, ensuring you will not harm any member in this village in exchange for a chance to prove your worth and offer valuable aid and information to help our cause." The weight of his words hangs heavily in the air. I nod in agreement, readying myself for whatever will happen next.

Evolet, one of elementals on the council, holds up a vial of shimmering silver liquid. "Do you know what this is?" Her question hangs in the air, filling me with trepidation. My heart pounds in my chest, as I desperately try to recall the lessons of my youth, before my mother's tragic demise.

"No," I finally manage to whisper, the word barely escaping my lips.

"It's a curious potion. Rare and hard to conjure. It's made from the night blossom petals of the Eashronnaplant, which only grows in the barren peaks of the Aldervora mountains in the winter." She spins the corked vial in her fingers.

"What does it do?" I narrow my eyes as the iridescent liquid swirls through the vial.

"It renders the consumer unable to lie," she states blankly, once again meeting my gaze.

My chest constricts, heart pounding erratically.

A truth serum.

I had thought them only a myth.

"Runa, please elaborate," Victor prompts, pointing toward the council member. She has a pixie cut with sleek black hair, deep brown eyes, and a sun-kissed complexion.

"You see," Runa says, rising from the table and stepping forward, her footsteps echoing in the dimly lit room. "You might have convinced Roger and Victor that you tell the truth, but after all our efforts, we'd like to be extra sure."

My heart pounds in my chest as I try to stand, my boots scraping against the cold stone floor. Before I can speak, the guard behind me grabs my shoulders, their grip tight and suffocating. With a forceful slam, they push me back down, the impact reverberating through my body.

"You shouldn't have any problem volunteering to answer some questions under its influence," Runa says, her voice dripping with skepticism. The sound of her words lingers in the air, filled with tension and doubt. "Unfortunately, the serum only lasts twenty minutes or so."

Gritting my teeth, I utter, "Nothing I've said has been a lie." My clenched fists tremble with frustration, and my knuckles turn white. "If I take the serum and answer your questions, will you help me free Sybil?" I ask, voice cracking.

"When we get the answers we seek, we will release you from your cell and allow you freedom to roam the camp," Victor responds, his voice filled with cautious hope. "But only if we believe that you will not pose a threat to this village."

I nod, wanting this done as soon as possible. The air grows heavy with anticipation, and the room falls into silence. The scent of uncertainty lingers in every breath.

I will not fail her and lose her.

I will not fail my kingdom any longer.

I am the Prince of Shadowvale.

Runa grabs me roughly by the jaw, uncorking the vile and pouring the contents down my throat. I gag and cough, writhing against my bound arms as the liquid burns down my throat and fills my veins. I fall to the side, my skin feeling as though it's on fire as the world spins.

I am going to die, and I'll never get to see Sybil again. I'll never get to tell her the truth.

"Mate," I mouth the inaudible word, barely registering the cold floor under my cheek as I hit the ground.I squeeze my eyes closed against the mage light bobbing around the room. Everything feels wrong, my tongue heavy as lead in my mouth.

A few breaths pass before someone hauls me back to my knees. I open my eyes, breathing deeply through my nose asthe world settles. I have to think strategically, I have to prove to them that my loyalty has always lain in protecting Shadowvale.

Victor clears his throat. "Let the inquiry begin."

He sits on his designated chair at the head of the table and reads from a yellowed piece of parchment. "You come before the council of Thorns. Tell us who you are."

"Aramis Adrostos, Crown Prince of Shadowvale." The words are ripped from my mouth before I have a moment to think, leaving an acrid taste in their wake.

"What is your elemental power?"

My chest aches at the absence of my power, but the words fall from my lips. "Wind. I'm a wind elemental. I can control and manipulate the air."

"Did you knowingly aid Queen Tricella in the capture of shifters for questioning?"

"Yes, but?—"

"How long have you known Nero Lockheed?"

Memories of me and Nero running through the royal wing of the castle whilst his mother tended to mine as her handmaiden flash through my head. The two of us sneaking into the kitchen for cook's tarts. Our first wooden sword lessons.

"Nearly my entire life, since we were boys," I say confidently, the words coming easily.

"And growing up, did you know he was a draken shifter?"

"No." Cold disappointment curls in my gut. Even my friend did not trust me with his greatest secret.

"And how did you feel when you found out?"

My heart tightens, recalling how frantic I was in the woods, realizing Sybil was my mate. Hating that she was a shifter and then discovering my childhood friend of a century had lied to me.

"How did you feel?" he repeats.

I bite my tongue, but the words stumble out. "Hurt. Betrayed. Angry."

"Why?"

"Because he is a shifter . Because he lied to me for a hundred years by omission."

He is a shifter. He lied to me.

The words echo in my heart.

He only held the truth because he was afraid of how you'd respond.

"I think we've heard enough for today. Take him back to his cell."

As I'm pulled to my feet, I sway unsteadily, feeling the tingling sensation as the blood returns to my legs from kneeling.

They mean to paint me as the villain.

My fists tighten as I stare at the intricate metal bands around my wrists. Gone is the coarse rope, but the bands cut deeper than any physical confinement. My knuckles blanch as fiery rage surges through me, fueled by betrayal.

The magic pulsing from the metal feels wrong, causing cold sweat to break along my skin. Rage boils within me, a seething fire that scorches my veins, as the bands suppress the power that normally courses through me.

I lift my head, peering up into the darkness as the door slams at the end of the hall.

"Nero?" I call out, voice cracking with disuse. He had been down a few times to see me over the past week but mostly it was quiet shifters who came to deliver food and water twice a day.

"It wasn't me!" A male's panicked voice calls out. I hear a scuffle and shuffle of feet. "I swear I didn't steal it."

"Sure you didn't," a gruff voice replies as they come into view. Between two burly shifters was a male with pale skin and jet black hair peppered gray at the temples which fell into his face. He wore a rumpled dark tunic, pants, boots and cloak. The cell across from me swings open and they throw him in. He lands with a grunt in a tangled up mess of gangly limbs and fabric. He quickly scrambles up but not before the door slams shut in his face.

"Let me go. I demand an audience with whoever is in charge for this injustice." He shakes the iron bars, his gray eyes shimmering in the dim light of the torches.

"You'll meet your justice soon enough, thief," one of the guards says before turning and heading down the hall.

"Bloody shifters. Who do they think they are?" he says under his breath as the guards walk away, leaving the man pacing the cell seething with anger. He turns his attention to me, his eyes filled with determination. "Do I look like someone who would steal something?" he asks desperately.

I study him for a moment, taking in his disheveled appearance and the intensity in his eyes. There's something about him that makes me cautious. "I don't know," I reply honestly. "I've learned not to judge based on appearances alone." My lips draw down.

He nods, seemingly satisfied with my response. "The name is Axton," he says before shaking the bars, but they only groan in protest. "And you are?"

"There is no point. The metal is enchanted. I'm Aramis," I reply, turning my head to stare out of the small window giving me a view of the starry sky. "Aramis Adrastos." I should be careful with my name out here but I don't care enough to hide anymore.

"The Crown Prince?" He snorts, giving up his pacing and slumping against the wall. "And I'm the King of Kallistar."

I ignore him, my thoughts straying to her. I lift a hand, my thumb caressing the stone necklace hanging from my neck.

"How did a band of misfit shifters catch the wind elemental prince himself?"

"I came here willingly, asking for help," I say.

"Well, that's a series of rather unfortunate events. How long have you been locked down here?" he asks.

I sigh, my gaze shifting from him to the dimly lit torches on the wall. "It's hard to keep track of time in this place," I admit. "But it feels like an eternity." Especially knowing every moment I'm stuck in here, she's out there . Alone . My gut clenches at the thought.

"I was falsely accused of stealing a valuable artifact, and they threw me in here without a fair trial," he complains, grabbing a rock and throwing it through the bars. It bounces and skitters down the hall. "Beasts, they are. What do they have you locked up for?"

I stare at the flames, remembering the way they danced along the cave wall moments before I left her. Shaking my head of the memory, I turn to him. "They believe I am behind the attacks on shifters."

He pauses, examining me. "Ahhh. I think I might have heard a rumor or two about Shadowvale going through a crisis of sorts. I tend to rarely pass through this kingdom, you see. Too much trouble these days. What happened princeling, did you not want to share your toys with shifters?"

I stiffen. "You know nothing about who I am or what I'm capable of."

"Perhaps not, but I do know we need to find a way out of here," Axton says, his voice filled with determination. "There must be a way to prove our innocence and escape this wretched place. Or a way to escape."

I look around the cramped cell, but all I see are cold iron bars and stone walls that seem impenetrable. "Escape is futile. Even with my wind magic, I can't break us out of here. What did they accuse you of stealing, anyway?"

"Oh, you know, the usual," he says as he picks at his nails.

"And did you?" I ask, brows raised.

"Of course not. I was only taking back what was rightfully mine." He puffs out his chest. "I was playing cards down at the Cerulean Dragon Inn, when these two badger shifters cheated over cards and took off with my satchel. I followed them here, intent on taking it back. Low and behold, I stumble on a secret shifter camp. What are they even trying to achieve here?" he scoffs. "Anyway, their guards cornered me. They wouldn't even let me tell my side of the story. They think I'm a spy or something." He rakes his hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry. I'm sure they'll hear you out once everything calms down." Kindness is all I have left at this point.

"Like they did for you?" He snorts.

I turn to lay down on the thin straw bed and close my eyes, wrapping my cloak tighter around my body as he continues to talk to himself.

Waiting in this cell is not a demand of my patience I haven't experienced before. Father used to make me practice for hours, days, on end in the training yard until I had perfected my sword fighting skills. I look at my hands, at a scar I once got from my training. Just when I thought I couldn't physically move from exhaustion, he would make me spend hours pouring over battle strategies and kingdom politics.

My fists clench as I think about the blank look on his face when Sybil and Tricella stood before him. As a boy, he would talk about justice and freedom. I hope with everything I have that when all of this is over, I can become the man he wanted me to be.

I inhale deeply and something changes. The faintest trace of lavender and tea. Surely, I'm imagining it. And yet I can't shake it once it's deep within me, pulling at the mating bond.

The bond.

By the gods, what am I to do?