Page 154 of Deathbringer
But I cannot give up, not until I rip out Grimm’s heart with my bare hands so he canfeelwhat he did to me when he killed Sylas.
“A whole world stretches between today and tomorrow, my dear.” Gan smiles sweetly, her statement oiling the cogwheels in my head with quiet hope. “Death magic and poison magic are your birthright. No one can take that away from you.”
She reaches for my free hand, Scar uncoiling around her forearm. My aspier nuzzles her head against the back of my hand, and I sigh, grateful that she was returned to her family and that Railesza was allowed to go to Beau, instead of them both rotting in a vault, waiting for my sentencing. It’s been two weeks, and we still haven’t found Raiku.
My skin pricks. Two beads of blood form at my wrist. I jerk my hand back, and in my haste, the plate clangs to the floor, shattering into pieces.
Priya doesn’t waste time, and she’s on the floor within seconds, picking up the broken porcelain. “Follow the voice,” she whispers, placing her hand on my knee as she stares at me.
At the same time, the doors open, and three guards storm in—the woman from earlier and two others who’ve done night rounds before. “Visiting hour is over. PGM, you of all people know not to have contact with the prisoner.”
“Take sixty-three back to her cell, Officer Lan,” one of the guards barks at her.
Officer Lan grips my arm, dragging me through the door Priya and Gan came through. She hurries her steps down a long corridor, and I recognize it from the time we visited Victor.
“Vi,” she says, looking over her shoulder. “I don’t know what Parrish told you, but if we don’t leave now, they’ll send you to the Farbon Desert Solitary Prison for five years.”
Parrish said to follow the voice. Did she mean… “Beau?” I ask, as he takes me through a second hallway. I knew something was off with the new guard’s overt friendliness. I should’ve known for certain when Victor lingered on us earlier; he only looks at Beau that way.
“Took you long enough,” he clips. “Don’t ask. Illusions, and yes, Officer Lan gave her consent.”
“Where are we going—”
“Out.” He pushes through a wooden door, and we come face-to-face with the floor warden.
Beau’s grip on me tightens, and he mutters a curse.
The man, at least six foot-five, looks down at us, his brows furrowed, his dark eyes dubious. “The cells are in the opposite direction,” he drawls. Even if we were to make a run for it, he’d catch us in two strides.
I stand still, looking straight ahead.
Lan—Beau—gestures behind us. “Ground floor is covered in suds. I’m taking her through the other wing.”
“Unshackled?” The warden’s eyes fall to my loose hands, and Beau immediately pulls handcuffs from his pockets. He steps in front of me, and I lift my wrists. As he fastens the handcuffs, he leans in, and ever so silently says, “Fourth bar.”
He pulls back and shoves me forward. “Warden, make yourself useful instead of standing here, questioning command. Take her back to her cell.”
The warden grabs the back of my collar, dragging me forward. When I hear the door close behind us, I realize that my only chance at an escape is gone.
The lights go off for the night, and I sit against the wall, contemplating the last couple of months. I run a hand over Raiek’s cool scales; only a few hours now until I walk to a fate worse than death.
The faint ray of moonlight trickles through the small window above the sink onto the bars of the cell. Something glimmers, and I press my eyes together. When I open them again, the glimmer is still there.
Pushing myself up, I tiptoe to the gate, softly running my hand along every bar until I reach the fourth one from the lock. My fingers catch on something cold. As I feel around, an open cuff slowly materializes.
My breath hitches.
I gingerly loop it free, walk backward, and slide down to the floor, my back facing the door in case a guard walks past. Turning the cuff over, I study the intricate details—roses, aspiers, a teacup, and honeyfig bread are hidden among the vines, and Scar’s scales wrap around the borders.
My throat thickens. Someone had this made for me. As I turn over the cuff, I notice a faint engraving on the inside.This life and the next, it says, and I gasp.
Sylas.
My tears are hot against my cheeks, the repressed grief of the past two weeks bubbling over.
I unzip my jumpsuit, tug the left sleeve to the side, and bring the relic to my bare arm. Gan is right. Death magic and poison magic are my birthright, and with this cuff, Sylas will be in every strand of magic I weave.
The moment the relic clips around my arm, I feel… alive. Like a missing part of me has come together at last.
Finally, a sharp musical voice whispers, and my heart stops. I look around, holding on to a broken string of hope that Ysenia has returned. But it’s not her. The voice chuckles.Let me show you the way to the Underworld.
THE END
