Page 71 of Of Kings and Thieves

“Going back the way they came will only lead them to more danger,” Moredanea said, as if reading my thoughts. “The Harrow’s guards await them at the entrance, so even if they do manage to get out of the labyrinth, they won’t have anywhere to go.”

“Go choke on a dragon’s dick,” I spat back.

Moredanea chuckled and then yanked me forward so that we were nose-to-nose. Her eyes bored into mine, cold and merciless. “I’ve tried dragon’s dick, you know. The dragon I took it from didn’t live long after. Now, let’s discuss your new role, shall we?”

And then, without another word, the guards removed my weapons and dragged me away.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

The dimly lit corridors seemed bright after the near darkness of the labyrinth, and I squinted as the guards brought me through a heavy iron door and into the lower portions of the castle.

Col?

Once again, he had gone silent.

As we traversed the halls, I couldn’t help but wonder what awaited me at the end of this twisted journey. My thoughts raced, attempting to piece together any semblance of a plan for escape, but every scenario ended with the same result—death.

“Keep moving,” one of the guards growled, shoving me forward, not that I had much choice in the matter.

Behind, I heard the swish of Moredanea’s gown on the stone floors, a reminder that even if I was to overcome the guards, I’d then have to deal with her.

With the lower parts of the castle behind us, the guards led me out into an inner courtyard, its walls constructed of dark, weathered stone that seemed to absorb the flickering firelight. Stretching high above my head, the walls loomed like an oppressive cage, trapping me within their confines. Except for the crackle of the large bonfire in the center, the courtyard was unnervingly quiet, leaving me feeling utterly exposed.

“You stand here,” a guard said. He released my arm only to shackle my wrists and then hand the end of my chain to another guard. Moredanea had disappeared.

Within a few moments, Deviants began emerging from the doors leading out of the courtyard, their hooded figures appearing as sinister specters in the fire’s glow. Their cloaks billowed around them, creating an almost hypnotic display as they moved in unison, forming a circle around the bonfire. I watched with bated breath as they gripped staffs adorned with ancient symbols and held bowls containing mysterious substances that caught the light in a way that made my stomach churn.

I’d barely had time to process the sinister scene unfolding before me when the heavy wooden doors creaked open once more. My heart leapt into my throat as Col was dragged into the courtyard, his wrists bound in thick iron shackles. His dark hair hung in disarray, partially concealing the defiance burning in his hazel eyes.

“Col,” I breathed. Even from this distance, I could see the bruises and cuts marring his skin.

Our gazes locked for a brief moment. His eyes flickered with surprise, quickly replaced by steely anger. I wanted you to be safe.

I know. But the others may have gotten away—Kolvar, Scarlet, Melion, and Silvius.

“Bind him to the post,” one of the hooded Deviants commanded, their voice cold as the stone walls surrounding us. Two burly soldiers complied, forcing Col to his knees before securing his chains to an iron ring embedded in the ground.

“Let her go!” Col snarled, straining against his bonds. “She has nothing to do with this.”

“Ah, but she does.” Moredanea’s melodic voice cut through the air like a razor as she stepped out from behind me. Her pale green skin shimmered beneath her newly donned silver hood, her eyes fixed on Col. “How perfect that she came in time to see us perform this ritual, one we have long waited to perform.”

“Go to hell,” Col spat.

“Silence him,” Moredanea ordered, and one of the Deviants raised their staff, muttering a spell that wrapped around Col’s throat like an invisible vice. His face contorted in pain as he tried to speak, but no sound emerged.

The circle of Deviants expanded to include Col’s chained form.

My heart raced, my chest tightening with each labored breath. I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were on the edge of something terrible. Would they kill him? Was The Harrow here? The thought burrowed into my mind like a worm, gnawing away at my sanity.

Then, as if conjured by my very thoughts, a figure stepped out of the door and into the flickering light cast by the bonfire. His presence sent a chill down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold wind whipping through the courtyard. He was a tall, imposing man dressed in dark, opulent robes that billowed around him as he moved. His face, framed by a mane of silver hair, was sharp and angular, almost predatory. But it was his eyes—cold, cruel, and piercing—that truly struck terror into my heart. I knew who he was without the golden crown adorning his head.

“Your Grace,” Moredanea purred, her voice dripping with reverence as she bowed low to the newcomer, confirming what I had dreaded: this was The Harrow himself, the architect of so much suffering and the reason Col and I were caught in this nightmare.

“Proceed, Moredanea,” The Harrow commanded, his voice cold and measured.

Moredanea turned back to Col, her golden eyes flashing as she approached him. “Now that we have your attention, Prince Andris,” she said, her gaze falling on me, “remember the lives at stake tonight, should you decide to do something foolish.”

The Harrow stood off to the side, a smirk playing on his lips. Moredanea held a small, curved blade between her fingers, the cold metal glinting in the firelight. With the snap of her fingers, Col’s shirt fell open, exposing his chest.

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