Page 180 of Heir of Broken Souls

“Didn’t you just say it’s dangerous?” Harlow asks flatly.

Knox deadpans, “Do you not trust my magic?”

“I trust you, so much so that when you say it’s dangerous I believe you.” She scoffs. “I’m not going in there if there’s a possibility my mind will be trapped.”

“It won’t. Mine will, but you can all stand along the bridge with Delilah and view it through the archway of my mind.” Knox turns to me, his eyes pleading. “Delilah will keep me tethered to this world.”

“What bridge?” Harlow interjects.

I’m tempted to snort. For a court that knows everything about everyone, I can’t believe we’ve been able to keep such a thing from them.

Knox smirks. “The bridge that is my haven.”

Harlow clicks her fingers between us, earning a scowl from Knox. “Hurry up and do it then! We’re taking so long, Lenox probably thinks we’ve perished at the hands of demons.”

Knox clears his throat. “Everyone join hands.”

Clasping Knox’s in my left and Elysia’s in my right, I close my eyes and find Knox’s soul standing on the bridge, along with Harlow, Elysia, and Axel.

Knox doesn’t allow them to gawk at our place or ask questions. He gives me one solemn glance before turning and striding into his mind. I stand at the threshold of his door, keeping it open so I won’t lose him.

Clearing my throat, I draw his court’s attention, flicking my chin to the sky.

“Knox will project what he sees up there.”

Harlow claps her hands greedily. “Let the show begin.”

Chapter67

The Prisoner

The prisoner keeps his head held high. Despite the iron shackles on his wrists and ankles making a gods-awful rattling noise, despite the gas-lit lamps nearly blinding him since he hasn’t seen light in weeks, the prisoner’s ego isn’t dented in the slightest.

In fact, the moment the prisoner was escorted out of his holding cell, flanked by ten guards armed to the teeth with not only steel but power, a smirk flickered across his lips.

A sneer grows along the faces of several of the guards, the tension and hatred wafting off them in waves. Yet the prisoner pays them no heed, not even when one guard’s temper flares and, without warning or care, kicks the prisoner in the back, sending him toppling to the floor with a mighty grunt.

Finally, a flash of emotion fills the prisoner’s chocolate eyes.

There and gone in an instant.

Hatred.

A muscle ticks in the prisoner’s jaw as he rises on shaky legs. No doubt from the loss of movement in the small hole they call a cell.

The prisoner is young, with an almost yellow tint to his skin. If he hadn’t been thrown into a hole with no sunlight, he naturally would have tan golden skin with dark features to match his bushy brown eyebrows and rough stubble.

When he fully straightens on his feet, he matches the height of some of the guards, standing at five foot ten with a pudgy belly and thick tree trunks for legs. If he wasn’t shackled he’d put that gleam of vengeance in his gaze to use.

The ten guards continue marching him through the tunnels to the island’s city center. The awaiting crowd gasps as he enters, their shock loud enough to make the room quake. They’re packed tightly into the space, crammed on benches and squished around the pool of water sitting inside the cave’s entrance like sardines.

Everyone wants a glimpse at the Fae on trial today. At the infamous darkness that supposedly resides within their hearts.

The prisoner grins, a devilish smirk that elicits another round of gasps. Before the guards can usher him along, he spits at the feet of the closest Fae. “Lowly coward of a creature,” the prisoner scorns.

The guard closest to him strikes out before the prisoner can blink. The slap resounds through the island below as the prisoner’s head snaps back.

“Shut your mouth, you disgusting bastard,” the guard sneers.