Blood Oath (Darkest Drae #1)(31)

I scooted to the edge, and my stomach roiled with the movement. I accepted his offer for help, but when I stood, my legs buckled. He caught me and scooped me up in his arms. Out of respect for what he’d done for me, I kept my hands to myself although they itched to touch his face again.

With another search, he strode out the door, down the empty hall and damp stairs to my dungeon cell.

Heat radiated from him to me, a warmth that seeped into my skin and into my soul. Having arms around me, arms that hadn’t hurt me, made me feel human again. Hesitantly, I rested my cheek against his shoulder as he carried me, and I closed my eyes, listening to his heart.

Nothing about this man scared me. I’d never blindly trusted, even when I was light-filled Ryn. I should be scared of this man, that I heard his thoughts and that he was helping me without giving any explanation. Yet something in his gentle demeanour made me want to lean on him.

“Why are you helping me?” I mumbled against his hard chest.

He pulled me closer, holding me tight as we entered my cell. He set me down on the bed and knelt next to me.

“I don’t want to be alone.” I hung my head at my confession.

He gathered me in his arms once more, stroking my hair which he’d painstakingly washed the majority of the blood out of. After a few minutes, he untangled himself and took my hand, pressing it against his cheek.

You are strong, he said in my mind. You haven’t betrayed anyone. You are still kind and good. Don’t confuse humanity for weakness.

A lump of emotion clogged my throat, and I tried to swallow back my burning urge to cry. I hadn’t betrayed my friends. I would be strong.

He gave a brittle smile and turned my hand over, kissing the back of it before he stood to leave.

I lay down in the bed, more mobile than I should be after Jotun’s treatment, though I felt a deep cut on my thigh that would take a long time to heal as well as what felt like cracked ribs. Whatever Tyr did to heal me had saved my life at least twice.

“Thank you, Tyr,” I whispered.



“Ryn. Ryn.”

I moaned and rolled onto my side as someone urgently called my name. My eyes flew open. I’d rolled onto my side . . . with cracked ribs. Sitting up, another thing I shouldn’t have been able to do, I pushed down the blanket and unraveled the bandage on my leg. The gash that had been there was a scabbed cut, and most of my other cuts were gone.

“Ryn,” Ty shouted, snapping me out of my bafflement.

“I’m al’right,” I said. I wasn’t certain how or why or what it meant. But I was alive. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he said. “Nothing that won’t heal.”

I bit my lip, unsure whether to tell him about the hooded man. The warning in my gut was only slightly uneasy, but I decided to heed it for now.

He growled, a deep gravelly sound that sent chills down my spine. In his raspy voice, he said, “I could hear your screams from here, Ryn. Why do they hate you so much?”

I shrugged, my silent response lost to him. The problem was, the king and his Drae didn’t hate me, not really. I was insignificant to both and somehow stuck in the middle of their power play, destined to wait until one of them emerged the victor.

“Are you al’right?” Ty’s voice was strained.

“As al’right as anyone in here,” I answered. Arnik and Dyter were still safe, I hadn’t betrayed them.

“I hate that they’re doing this to you. I wish I could get you out.”

Why would he wish that? He hardly knew me. Yet as the thought crossed my mind, I saw it wasn’t true. Our dependence on each other for food, but mostly for companionship in this terrible place, had forged something between us.

I would lie for Ty. Things that weren’t necessary to do for him when I first got here now seemed necessary.

“You, too,” I whispered. And I meant it.

He inhaled sharply and, not for the first time, I wondered what his face was like. “Why are you here, Ty?”

The scuffle of him moving toward our wall spurred me to sit up and join him. I rested back against the stone wall, only the solid rock between us. These days, I felt most grounded when I talked with Ty.

“Same reason as you, I gather,” he finally replied. “The king’s guard slaughtered my entire family. He wants to know what I know.”

His tone was closed, and I didn’t pry. It’s not like we were desperate for time down here. I hadn’t told him anything about why I was here, but it didn’t surprise me he’d read between the lines. “They killed my mother. Lord Irrik killed my mother. He pushed the dagger in anyway.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. His soul is dead inside and has been for a long time.”

“I hate him,” I said, seething with vehemence.

We sat there, not talking, the repetitive dripping in some far corner our only company.

“How many rooms are down here?” I asked.

“In this wing of the dungeon, ten cells. This is the lowest dungeon; there are only three people with keys that get this deep. Lucky for us, no one else is here at the moment, though there are prisoners in another wing.”

“There are?” I turned my head toward him, wondering if they were from Zone Seven. “Are they alive?”

“From what I saw when Jotun took me to his fun room, yes. But I’m afraid that’s all I know.”