Chapter forty - four - Strength, protection, kindness, nobility

My hair peeks through the hood of my cloak as I keep my head low and make it past the cells. It'd turned nightfall by the time I left my chambers. Freya had made sure that for the three days I waited to come down here, she'd figure where Darius was being kept. Not much had to be done when we realized it was where the queen held the Ardenti dragon. Be it some twisted joke on her side, it didn't deter me, and according to Rydan, fewer Venators would be patrolling the dungeons tonight.

I avoid each beg from the prisoners; each second, they insult one another across cells and take a long breath. It's only once I slow down and look to my left that I see the glooming hallway I saw last time leading down somewhere, deeper than I already am.

Shaking my head at the itch of curiosity, I continue, each minute getting closer to where Darius is. Clatters and distant echoes sound from one of the passages that I freeze, but the noise fades, and I figure they'd gone another way.

Blowing a breath, I dart my gaze around. A deathly cough resonates the cells before I make my way to the steel gates and place both palms flat on it. I graze my fingers along it, and cold crust rasps against my skin as I count to three, hoping this works. I've had the confidence for anything prior to coming to Emberwell. I don't want to lose it now.

I look to the side where the lever is and check again for any Venators. Not a single soul—for now. Once I pull on the lever, the gates rise, and I stumble into the cave-like cell. It doesn't take me long to find Darius in the middle of it all as I hold back my gasp at what I'm seeing. Chains hang from above on each of his wrists, his body sags, and his head tilts to the side like he's been in this position, unconscious for hours, *days*.

I peel my hood back and rush in front of him. "Darius." Resting my hands on his face, I plead for him to awaken. He grunts, and I close my eyes for a few seconds, letting out a slight sound of relief before opening them.

He lifts his head, pale and his voice hoarse as he realizes it's me. "What are you doing here?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" My whisper is loud enough to sound like a hiss as I glance behind me briefly. "I'm getting you out. That's what I'm doing."

He shakes his head, and his eyes slit as he tries to stay conscious. "You need to leave; they'll know it's you—"

"I'm not leaving." I glance at the chains, and walls hoping there's something to pull them down, but there is none.

"Listen to me—"

*I will not*. "First of all, you should know by now I hate listening to you." I huff. "And second, be quiet while I take these chains off."

"So, heroic." He chuckles, but it's not the same, not the kind he always gives me where a teasing remark follows it. It's feeble, raspy, not a Darius laugh.

The word *sorry* wants to come out, but that doesn't feel like it is enough, not for what he's endured during his capture.

I turn my focus to the shackle around his right wrist, knowing he's looking at me the whole time. It makes my nerves spike, so I send a glare over at him, and his lip tilts up, but it falls too quickly that I almost miss it. Inhaling deeply, I study both chains this time, the dents and blood dripping to his elbows.

Just like the shifter I'd seen these on, it is clear some sort of steel spike or knives pierces their wrists. It honestly sounds like the worst bracelet someone can receive. Attempting to yank these off won't work. It might do more damage than good. I sigh. It needs a set of keys to unlock the sides of them. No blade I have can fit to pick at it.

I decide to walk around him for another sign, but then up close, I see newly fresh lashes across his back. Blood clots over wounds, others such deep cuts, it makes me ache. I know they will heal until not even a scratch shows, but with the Neoma blood weakening him, it might not.

My hand trembles a little as I reach for one in the center of his back. He tenses, as do I, and then I suck in a small breath as I trace my index finger over it, and the wound begins to heal within seconds. I take my hand off as if I'd just been burned, but Darius doesn't seem to notice.

I stare down at my fingers, wriggling them. It healed? Thinking I've gone mad, I attempt to touch another wound, one by his shoulder. It closes upon my contact, and my brows crinkle until Darius suddenly starts whispering, "Naralía Ambrose." It's more aimed at himself as he repeats my name a few times like a sacred prayer from his lips, and a speck of liveliness seems to return to him. "Do you have a middle name?"

My fingers still, forgetting for a moment how he's healing. I'd not been asked that in a while, and I should know Darius, of all people, wouldn't stay silent for long. "It's um—it's Brielle," I say quietly enough that I doubt he can hear me. "It means strength. My mother gave the four of us middle names she believed we'd have within ourselves."

A pause of silence like he's soaking up my answer. "And your brothers?"

I smile, and another of his wounds heals as I brush my hand against it. "Idris Callan, protector." And he is true to that middle name. Idris always made sure to protect us even when I gave him a hard time. Walking to face Darius, I glide my hands along his torso and then say, "Illias Cedric... kindness and finally Iker Alexander, nobility." I stare up at him. He stares down at me; my blue gaze reflects off the dark gold gleam of his. He doesn't respond, I don't even think there is a way to respond to it, but he does smile. It's affectionate, maybe even a sense of appreciation, that makes my breath shake out of me. I quickly move my hand to touch what I can reach of his wrists, and he grimaces. "Sorry." My fingers recoil, and I, too grimace. "I won't be able to take these shackles off without hurting you."

His eyes train on me, on everything I say. "It's fine," he whispers before letting out a breathless chuckle. "I'm sure you're secretly enjoying this."

I glower. Months ago, I could have easily said yes, but... "Well, if it was the other way around, I'm sure you would too."

His expression hardens. He didn't like my comment. The knuckles of his hands turn white as he clutches the chains and tilts his head away.

He doesn't want to say something back, and I don't know if I want to hear it. *You're just an asset to me. You're just an asset to me. You're just an asset to me.* I yank those words out of my mind and how when I'd felt his heartbeat that night; it stayed... normal. "Darius?" I clear my throat, but it does nothing to the croak in my voice.

His gaze jumps to me in a heartbeat, and the anger in his eyes cools to a warmth of gold.

"About your capture," I say, avoiding his stare, and my heart stammers. "I know you think I had something to do with it, but—"

"I never did." You can hear the sincerity in his voice, and when I look at him, it's the first he seems upset—at least from what I've seen of him so far. Lately, I'd seen different sides to him since we first met. Still, I carefully nod as a response, but regardless of it all, I don't think I can forgive myself anytime soon for what happened that night.

I stare at my feet and bite the side of my bottom lip. He'd looked so disappointed in me that moment he was dragged away. Maybe he's lying, or maybe he's right, and I assumed wrong that day because, for whatever reason, I cared about the idea he could have been that... disappointed in me.

Something else pops into my mind, a question I want to know even if it's not the right time. All I'd learned from Lorcan is that Darius had bitten his father, but why did he? Was it intentional? Lorcan hates him for it but Darius acts different towards Lorcan.

Insults from other cells intensify, plucking me from that thought as they mention Venators. I pop my head up and glance over my shoulder. Making a quick decision, I look back at Darius and say, "I'll return in a minute." And without a second thought, I take the crescent from my sheath and lay it flat in his palm.

He parts his lips with a frown and clutches it before I tell him, "To take the pain away. I always believed it was quite magical, so..." I trail off. I'm not one to just give the carving out to anyone, especially someone like... well, someone like Darius. And I don't know if it is because it belongs to Lorcan that I'm giving it or because every time I look at it, it's now a reminder of him. And that despite the other night, these three days, he'd reverted to his cold self that everyone sees him as.

Pressure clamps down on my chest at the thought of missing him, and I turn to walk out before it gets worse.

"Goldie," Darius calls out, and I stop, realizing it's the first he's said that today. I look over at him. His brows furrow in a pensive stare, and I wonder for a second what he might be thinking so hard about. "Tibith," he says, but it also seems like he wants to add something else. "Is he—"

"He's safe," I answer before he finishes because it's all I can tell him. Tibith believes in me enough to save Darius, and it's what I plan to do.

I walk out at that, pulling the lever and resting my back against the gates. My breaths come heavy that one might think I've done strenuous work.

"Once you get him out, go with him, Nara," Freya had recited a thousand times before I left the barracks. "Go with him, and don't worry about your brothers, me Rydan and Link will make sure they're safe, I promise."

Squeezing my eyes shut, I let out an involuntary sob, no tears, no sting, nothing, just frustration rising in my chest because I don't want to leave them and I don't want to leave someone else as much as I want to, as much as I should wish to leave him.

I rest my hand on my chest and inhale slowly fighting those thoughts away before pushing myself off the gates. I walk stealthily through the pathways with determination, settling in my gut to find a set of keys, and if I must fight a Venator to get them, so be it.

Fire torches flicker as I pass them until a cry for help causes me to halt. It's distant, painful even to make out, but it happens again. I turn my head to the source and notice it's coming from the dark passageway beyond the stone stairs.

Twisting my whole body towards it, I clutch my hands into fists. The hallway grows darker the more I look at it, and I know I should leave it, carry on what I came here to do, but when I turn around to walk away and hear the same voice, my legs move before I can think straight.

I'm cursing myself with each step as I tread down the stairs, carefully with one step at a time. I expel a shuddering breath as a gush of coldness washes over me. No torches ignite this part of the dungeons, but a small crack of light seeps from above, enough for me to make out how narrow it is and how more cells lead into depths of gloom. I walk closer, my eyes scrunching as I try to take a better look.

"Help—please," the voice comes again, and I whirl to the side where a man lies on the floor of his cell. Fingers like ones of a skeleton twitch, and as I drag my gaze to the auburn hair covering half his face, horror jumps in my throat.

"Adriel," I breathe his name out in a chilling gasp and run toward him.

Clutching the cell bars, I frown with trepidation. He doesn't look at me as he falls unconscious. I shift my gaze to someone resting his head against the back wall of the cell next to Adriel and recognize him too.

It's the man who'd pleaded with one of the Venator leaders to spare him from not paying taxes the day I was with my brothers. So many down here are all breathing, most unconscious, malnourished but breathing.

It's suddenly hard to draw in any form of breath without panting. Why are they here? Adriel is supposed to be dead. I saw his bite marks. He was pronounced dead as they did with Oran. I watched him on his deathbed as he spoke to me, told me of the creature—

*The creature.*

My hands go slack from the bars and drop to my sides as I shake my head, taking a step back from the cell. I almost trip over my feet as I whisper a "no," and everything spins.

*They say it's worse than dragon shifters or a Rumen.*

*You should know the Rumen that attacked us wasn't normal.*

*It was never a dragon... it's always been the new breed—*

"I knew soon enough you would come down here."

I turn to stone, immobilized with the pieces fitting all together before I find the power in my legs to turn around slowly.

The General's face appears through the shield of shadows covering his upper half as he takes a step down the stairs, then another step and another like an animal unleashed from its cage. His eyes skim past me to everyone inside the cell, and he lets out a breath as if this was an inconvenience to him. "They all look so..." He flicks a hand. "Lifeless, don't they?"