Chapter 3

Lina's POV

The stone floor bit into my knees through my torn gray keeper's robe as I curled into myself. The left side of my head rang with that familiar, sickening high-pitched whine that had haunted me since the day she'd first struck me there, and the world tilted sickeningly as I tried to focus through the pain radiating from my damaged ear.

Isabella loomed over me, her blue reptilian eyes blazing with a fury so visceral it seemed to distort the air around her, and her spiked boot drew back as she prepared to deliver another vicious kick to my ribs. I had just enough time to curl tighter, wrapping my arms protectively around my chest and stomach, before her foot connected with bruising force that knocked what little air remained from my lungs.

"You filthy mongrel whore!" The curse exploded from her throat in a guttural snarl. Her boot rose again, this time aimed squarely at my chest. "You think spreading your legs for His Majesty will make him want you? Know your place, you disgusting half-breed slut. You're nothing but a cheap toy he uses and tosses aside—he'd never look at trash like you the way he looks at me!"

Through the haze of pain and the muffling ring in my damaged ear, a single thought cut through with startling clarity—at least she's here. At least Augustus won't force me while she's watching. Augustus's obsessive indulgence of Isabella, born from the life-debt he owed her father, was legendary throughout the citadel, and I'd learned long ago that her presence was one of the few things that could temporarily redirect his attention away from tormenting me.

Augustus caught Isabella's wrist with casual, effortless strength. "Easy, my dear," he murmured, his voice soft and indulgent. "Don't let this worthless creature ruin your mood. She's not worth your anger."

His hand brushed soothingly along Isabella's arm before his gaze shifted to me—and all that warmth vanished like a snuffed candle. "Get out," he said flatly, his golden reptilian eyes cold and bored. "You're offending Lady Isabella's eyes."

Isabella leaned down, her breath hot against my right ear and her voice dropped to a whisper that dripped with malicious promise. "If you dare seduce His Majesty again, I'll make sure you die in the Sunless Chasm. Slowly."

I said nothing, keeping my head bowed and my body perfectly still, because I'd learned over ten years that any response—any defense, any plea—would only fuel her rage and invite worse retribution. Silence and submission were the only shields I had left.

I pressed my forehead to the cold stone in the deepest bow I could manage with my battered body, waiting until Augustus waved his hand in dismissal before I dared to move. My hands shook as I pushed myself upright, and I stumbled toward the massive doors on legs that barely held my weight.

The corridor outside was blessedly empty and dimly lit by the flickering glow of enchanted torches, and I'd barely made it three steps before a heavy black cloak settled around my shoulders, startling me into a flinch. I turned my head carefully to the right, and found Selas Ironclaw, Augustus's chief guard, standing beside me with an expression that might have been pity on a less battle-hardened face.

"Winter's here," he said quietly, his amber eyes flicking over the bruises already blooming on my face and the blood still seeping from my split lip. "Nights are cold. Get back to your quarters and treat those wounds."

His kindness was a rare thing in this place, and it made my throat tighten with emotions I couldn't afford to feel. "Thank you," I whispered, pulling the cloak tighter around myself, and he nodded once before turning back to his post.

I forced myself to walk slowly down the corridor, even though every instinct screamed at me to run, to hide, to curl up somewhere dark and safe until the pain stopped. As I passed one of the thrall dormitories, I caught the sound of voices through the thin wooden door—hushed whispers that made me slow my steps despite the exhaustion dragging at my bones.

"—that half-blood girl from the Dragonfire Chamber," someone was saying. "She's the Valerian bastard, isn't she? The one Lord Horace offered up to His Majesty ten years ago as a scapegoat."

"Poor thing," another voice replied, this one younger and tinged with genuine sympathy. "I heard His Majesty was in love with her pure-blood sister Lydia, but Lord Horace married her off to the former Crown Prince instead. When His Majesty took the throne, he made the whole Valerian family pay for that insult. He even stripped Lord Horace of his title as Duke, demoting him to a mere Marquis."

My heart clenched painfully in my chest, and I pressed myself against the wall beside the door, straining to hear more through the ringing in my damaged ear.

"You think she'll actually make it out?" the first voice asked skeptically. "Her decree says she's free in four more days, but everyone knows His Majesty doesn't want to let her go. If he decides to keep her—"

"Then that decree's just expensive parchment," the second voice finished grimly. "The Dragon King's word is law. If he wants her to stay, she stays."

I stumbled away from the door before I could hear any more, my chest tight with a fear so profound it felt like drowning. I'd known that my freedom was never truly guaranteed, that Augustus held all the power and I was nothing but a pawn in whatever twisted game he was playing with my family's legacy.

But hearing it spoken aloud, hearing the casual certainty in those thralls' voices that my decade of suffering might never end, made the fragile hope I'd been clinging to feel like a cruel joke.