the underbelly of a fish. The frantic energy that had propelled her to grab the club, to throw the flare, was utter

lowered her to the cold cellar floor, cushioning her head wit

asive chill. Survival first. Triage. He leaned over Seraphina, pressing two fingers against the pulse point beneath her jaw. It fluttered, weak a

his voice rough but steady. "Hold it c

ght revealed the tear in her emerald gown at the shoulder, the darkening bruise where Lucian had grabbed her.

is bruise... it's bad. And she's freezing." He pulled his own thin undershirt over his head, i

heavy door offered no escape. They were rats in a trap. Cassian's venomous promise echoed in his mind: *'Guards wil

eath, his white dress shirt was already soaked crimson near his lower ribs on the left side. Not a deep stab, he assessed, more a vicious tear from the thug's c

her torn strip, pressed it hard against the wound, and began winding the longer strip around his torso, tying it tight. It was c

your life.'* Rylan's awed words reverberated. Why? Why risk everything for the man who locked her in, who accused

blocked their path. Not the calculated fear of a schemer caught. Primal. Visceral. The terror of prey. And her

touched her forehead. Cold sweat beaded on her skin. Her eye

voice lower than he intended.

ned closer, his ear almost touching her mouth. The scent of wild mint and s

per was barely a breath.

inst his ribs. "What lies,

warning... not attack..." Her voice faded, then returned, a th

on her lips. The shock of it momentarily stole his breath. He'd

urgency sharpening his to

then settled back into its shallow, rapid rhythm. She

vens? To warn *him*? And Cassian had intercepted him, twisted the narrative, used it to frame Seraphina and justify... this. Murder. The fire. The ambush. All under the guise of protecting

This was treason painted as patriotism. And Seraphina... she'd known. Or suspected enough to be terrified. Enough to try

ith the pain. He'd locked her away. Accused her. Th

tentative. "What... what do we do?

Cassian might be licking his wounds, but he wouldn't stop. He'd send others. Or the palace guard, fed

mself up, gritting his teeth against the prote

her head lolling against Lucian's uninjured shoulder. Her slight frame felt insubstantial. He looped one of

low this passage back the way we came, but take the first bran

agging Seraphina. Every step jolted his wound. Her cold cheek pressed against his neck, her faint breath ghosting over his skin

mper. The distant roar of the fire was now a faint, ominous rumble, like thunder miles away. They passed the junction

idden behind a stack of moldering sacks. It wasn't a path they'd noticed in their earlier flight. A smaller tunnel, barely wide enough for one per

ylan said, uncert

rimly. "Or it might be a dead end. But

aneuver Seraphina through the tight space. The stone scraped against his inj

steadily somewhere ahead. The air grew thick and cold, the smell of damp earth and

unnel opened abruptly into a larger, low-ceilinged chamber

n breathed, his voice f

lantern beam swept across the chamber

er perhaps than Eldorra itself. The air hung heavy with the silence of centuries and the chill of the grave. In the center of the chamber lay a dark, still poo

t that held them froze

s. They wore rough, dark clothing, faces obscured by scarves pulled up over their noses. Each held a modern, compact s

g water was the only sound. Lucian's blood

a guttural sound muffled by t

stinct. He didn't think.

plunging the ancient crypt into absolute, suffocating darkne

reamed, throwing

pted, tearing through the darkness where they had stood. Muzzle flashes lit the crypt in strobing bursts of hellish light, illuminat

own, pressing them both flat against the freezing floor behind the dubious cover of a low stone plinth. Adrenaline screamed through him, burning away pai

uttural language Lucian didn't understand. Footsteps crunched

ears, listening for the whisper of cloth, the scrape of a boot. He had to protect Seraphina. He had to survive. Cassian's web was deeper, darker,