Page 102 of A Flame of the Phoenix

“I’m not fond of it either. I can’t Shadowport underground.”

“You can’t do that at all right now.”

“True. But I’ve always been uneasy underground.”

It was far more than a dislike for her, but she reinforced the vault of her mind that threatened to blast open every time she was forced to face this weakness they’d created in her.

Kyleer’s chains rattled as he held out his hand. She wouldn’t accept it.

Zaiana mentally chastised herself for being so pitiful, and with a deep breath, she forced herself down the remaining steps without him.

The cellar was still really cold but admittedly better than the icy breeze outside. A spark of light made her whirl around to find Kyleer with a lantern. There wasn’t much down here, just some supplies like alcohol kegs, blankets, pillows, and other materials.

Zaiana watched Kyleer stick his head over various shelves, collecting things and investigating despite his pain and restriction with the Magestone shackles. He acted as if they didn’t bother him at all, and for a moment she stilled, wondering if it were possible he wasn’t as affected by it as she believed. That he could be fooling her just as she had him when she was bound in Niltain steel shackles, a material that was incapacitating to her kind—but she’d mastered those effects long ago, and that was how she’d escaped her Rhyenelle cell when it was time.

No. The fae had long forgotten the existence of Magestone until recently. Kyleer was just very resilient to physical pain, and that she could relate to.

Kyleer threw blankets and anything cushioned he could find onto the ground before settling himself down on it, placing the lantern next to himself.

“You’re going to have to tolerate the closeness, I’m afraid. There aren’t enough supplies to make two makeshift beds far apart. Besides, it makes sense to share body warmth. Purely survival instinct, of course.”

Zaiana’s reluctance held her still. The last time she’d lain with him…

Her body grew warmer of its own accord at recalling the pleasure he’d given her. And Dark Spirits be damned, he was good with his hands. Too good.

“Don’t get any ideas,” she warned.

She lowered next to him and almost raised her unsheathed dagger to his throat when he slung a blanket over her shoulders unexpectedly. The extra barrier against the cold was enough for her to yield her defense a little and hug it around herself tighter.

Kyleer shuffled to a lying position, and Zaiana had the right mind to stay sitting. She couldn’t truly sleep, but the relaxation would be enough to replenish some of her energy.

“You can sleep,” he mumbled, already sounding like he was on the cusp of it.

She didn’t answer, only tipped her head back against the stone and closed her eyes for a moment of peace.

It didn’t last long before he said, “Why do you fear being underground?”

He was really Nether-bent on testing the limits of her tolerance with him.

“I was born with wings. Underground is the opposite of what I desire.”

“It’s more than just unfavorable or inconvenient to you. And you lived under mountains.”

Curse her for being unable to hide her childish terror on those damned steps.

“The masters would use it as a form of punishment,” she confessed, if only to sate his curiosity and shut him up.

She should have known it would only open the door for him to barge in with his questions. Kyleer shifted onto his side to face her.

“By locking you underground?”

“In far less space than this.”

It was like she could feel his growing tension. Dangerous and angry.

“A cage?”

“A stone cage,” she said. He wasn’t going to stop. “Barely big enough to turn around in, and no space to sit, only stand. Sometimes the insides would be made of a thin layer of Niltain steel, so you couldn’t even lean against them. No sound or light could penetrate. In that kind of isolation, a minute quickly feels like an hour. Then hours become days, and days weeks. It turned many dark fae mad, and I almost lost myself a couple of times.”

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