He'd been in the dungeons before. It wasn't the bars or the cold that shivers through him—it was the copper. The reek of blood and gore, death itself flowing like rivers between the gaps in the cobblestone. His hands being shackled wasn't the issue—he was into more dangerous things in bed, but his feet. His hands, he could use as weapons, even chained, but his legs being hobbled crippled him like a broken bone.
Adrian had personally escorted Arlero to his cell beneath the palace, complete with a bag over his head so he couldn't find his way out. His arms ached from being led like a dog through the streets; a trophy, that's all he was. He was a trophy for the kingdom. The best-looking man on any wanted poster, the rat that had owned the sewers, the thief that had stolen the princess. King Ifreann would be so proud of his Guard Captain for capturing him.
"How much did she get for me?" he asked, more out of resentment than curiosity. He knew what his life had been worth to the king—more than even Elaina's dowry would've been. Gentry would be set for life with even half. Unless the stupid fae squandered it.
Adrian remained silent as they reached the end of the hall, snatched Arlero's mask off, and shoved him with all his strength into the damp stone floor. He scoffed out a laugh when his charge grunted. "One million brass," he finally said.
"Wow, I didn't know that rat in a two-piece had left that many shillings in the treasury." As expected, Adrian kicked him in the face. When Arlero was finished coughing, he rubbed his jaw and glared upwards. "Maven drown me--can you stop kicking my face? It's all I have."
"That's not saying much," Adrian muttered. With the click of a lock, Arlero's feet were chained to the wall. He gritted his teeth—at the insult and the chains.
"I was a stud before the flu hit the East."
"And I wish it had killed you."
Looking up at Adrian and seeing nothing behind his eyes—it frightened him. "That makes two of us, then." Something softened between them—pity. Arlero bristled at the feeling and pushed himself back against the wall, grateful for the dry cold against his bruises. He'd closed his eyes, waiting on Adrian to leave, but he didn't. Arlero made a questioning noise, and the soldier sighed, a hand swiping over his face.
"Tell me where Elaina is, Ghrian."
At the expense of his cracked ribs, Arlero laughed. "If I knew, do you think I'd be in here?" Adrian's hand drifted to his sword and Arlero pushed harder. "I bet you she's up there with your beloved carrion king right now, getting ready to rip his spine out." A swish of metal, a swing of a sword, Arlero used the links of his shackled wrists to block the sword swinging down for his head. He bared his teeth. "And after she's done with him," he hissed, "she'll come for you too. My queen doesn't care for traitors." With all his strength, he shoved back, knocking Adrian out of his stance and getting the sword out of his face. To his credit, Adrian took a breath before responding.
"I hope she has enough sense to stay away."
"I didn't," Arlero bit back.
"That's because you're a rutting fool."
Okay, that was a good one. "I'll give you that." With a wicked grin as Adrian turned away, he added, "That woman can turn me feral." When his beloved guard gagged, he scoffed.
Before Adrian could hardly make it out the threshold, he paused. "You're Moranth, right?"
Arlero cocked a brow. "Aye. Why'd you ask?"
"You've got Fae blood, then."
Embarrassed, somehow, Arlero let out a nervous laugh that died out on an awkward lilt when Adrian kept the stern glare. "Why do you want to know?"
Adrian scoffed, waved him off, and continued on down the hallway. "Oh, no reason."
With a cold clang, Adrain left Arlero among the prison rats he must've belonged with. It might've suited him better to be left in a cell, he'd admit, but he missed the luxuries Elaina had once afforded him. He missed her. His princess. His queen.
I've really done it this time.
***
Slinking through the crowd of both fearful and enthralled subjects, the Last Wolf of Dorcha watched in horror among the people as the Crown Princess was brought to the gallows for the second time. The rat king Casta that had taken hold of Ryverin over the last two years was escorted by his Guard Captain up to his podium. The Wolf grimaced at the sight of them both, and numbed herself. She didn't hear the call, the last rites, the final words of the deposed and disgraced princess—only the sickening crack of the gallows at work. She smirked. Elaina was dead.
"What's our next move, Soulstealer?"
The only noise she heard was the metal scraping as she unsheathed her sword. "Kill them. All of them."
"All of them, my lady?"
She scoffed. Glared at her Second. "Fine. Leave the house slaves and the prisoners."
A nod, a wolf's howl, she raised her sword to the sky and let out a warcry that could've reaped the world as lightning struck her. The curse in her blood lapped up the power of the storm that she'd harnessed and fueled her fire. The sea of bodies parted from her in terror, a wildfire exploded around her, she pointed her sword at the false king and screamed one word: kneel.
And then they all knew. The courtiers, the advisor, the army, they all knew. Elaina, Crown Princess, Soulreaper and Daughter of Stars, was very much alive. And had come to reclaim her throne.
The army that she'd acquired versus the army raised to protect her swarmed around together, but her sights were focused on Casta. She wasn't going to stop. She sneered as the color drained from his face when he realized no one would come to his aid. Her steps sure and her fire contained even as people fell at her feet, her chin higher than it had been since she'd been cast out, Elaina approached her usurper with all the fury a goddess could rein. She picked up a sword that had been dropped in the chaos and tossed it to him. "I want a fair fight."
The shriek of a witch sounded in front of her, and Kyro stepped from the darkness. Their nails dug into Casta's shoulders and shoved him from his seat. The Mountain Witch winked at her, golden eyes alight with mischief, and vanished into the dark again to rejoin the fight around them.
Elaina pointed her sword at Casta. "I'm here to take back what's mine."
Casta, still stunned, blinked at her. "What's yours? Tell me, what here do you see that's yours?" As he picked up his sword, Elaina smirked.
"Everything you are, everything you have, is because of me and my family. You took everything from me. And I want it back."
Before she could raise her sword to even begin to try, Adrian stepped between them. Her heart stalled as he growled, "Come take it."
She had to think quickly—Adrian, a trained knight, chosen by the king to lead the Royal Guard; the elite of the elite. All the spars in the world couldn't hold a candle to his years of experience, winning her wars for her father. She swallowed. "Adrian," she whispered, "get out of my way."
"I'm afraid I can't." He swung his sword out in front of him. A shiver ran through her.
"Please," she begged. "Don't do this. Not again."
"It'd be treason if I let you harm my king."
A wave of calming hate washed over her. "Fine. It's treason, then."
Adrian offered her a sad half-smile, and lunged. He didn't pull punches, he didn't go easy on her, he put his full weight into every blow and struck to kill. Elaina, panicked by the realization of what she was doing, could hardly block him, let alone parry and try to land a strike. She whimpered his name over the roar of battle, praying to get his attention, pull him from his loyalty to the crown. And then she saw Casta slink away. She gritted her teeth into another blow aimed to cleave her head from her shoulders, dug her feet into the stone, and shoved hard enough to knock him back—just back enough to sprint past him and follow wherever the snake had slithered to.
Her boots falling heavy on the stone, she called Crinitus to her side, and the two of them made their way into the darkness of her home. She kept the hilt of Molerin's crooked dagger clenched in her right hand, sow screamed through her blood for her to stop, and reap lapped up the hate surging through her body. She channeled her fire through her left hand and into the blade of her sword and used it as a torch as they descended to the dungeon. Nearly empty, just like the rest of the palace, except for the two figures at the end of the passageway.
"Arlo," she called; her lover was silent. And then she processed what she saw—Casta, a sword to a chained Arlero's throat, her beloved outlaw at his feet like a sheep to the slaughter. And he led me right to it.
Crinitus snarled beside her, the bond between them severed—the wolf made his own choice and lunged for Casta, he managed to get an arm, just knock off his stance, before Elaina heard bones crunching. She screamed for Crinitus, her partner in those two hellish years, the one who was supposed to free her from Miro's curse, as Casta's magic tossed him to the side, limp. She was scarcely able to snarl out a threat before the same chokehold she'd once captured Casta in gripped her and dragged her forward and pushed her to her knees just a foot away from the only other warm body in the palace. She swallowed, not daring to look to Crinitus or Arlero, and kept her gaze locked on her adversary. Casta smirked.
"Come now, Soulseer," he sneered, "tell me what you see."
She gritted her teeth and dragged her eyes down to Arlero, looking for the glimmer of light he kept close each time he'd sold his soul for luck and deceit—and found him empty. A single sob escaped her throat. "Arlo," she whimpered. Dropping Molerin's dagger, she reached her right hand towards his face, bruised and cold as it was, and ran her thumb across his cheek. Casta huffed out a laugh and shoved her lover's body towards her.
"This is what you do," he said. "You bring death wherever you walk."
Elaina, frozen, couldn't argue. She managed to press her hands to the gash in Arlero's chest before she crumbled. Her eyes jerked to where Crinitus had fallen before she lost her sight to the tears, and mumbled out an apology to the pile of petals Miro had left in place of his body. Casta released his magic's hold on her throat and let her finally wrap her arms around her Arlero; she pulled him against her chest. "If you're going to kill me, do it yourself," she snarled, glaring up at him from the floor. He scoffed and stepped over her; she bared her teeth. "Fucking coward."
"Captain, finish her."
She turned her blazing eyes fully on Adrian then. "Waiting in the shadows like a petty thief? You're weak. I am Elaina Soulstealer, I'm Death incarnate, I'm fire and lightning. And you're nothing."
Adrian was silent as he plunged Molerin's dagger through her heart.