House of Shadows (Royal Houses 2)

Shackles circled her wrists, closing so tight that they nearly cut off circulation. She gasped, doubling over as she realized they were magic-dampening manacles. It felt like a punch to the gut when she reached for her power and found only a yawning emptiness. And not just that, but they were also iron. Her half-Fae heritage kept them from making her completely recoil. Iron wasn’t exactly poisonous to Fae, but it was a deterrent, and many refused to go near it. The fact that Lorian had on protective gloves proved that he’d known what he was walking into.

Without another word, Lorian dragged her back to his dragon. Getting onto the beast with her hands behind her back was a feat, but Lorian shoved her into position, and without a backward glance, they were in the air. She leaned forward and gripped the dragon tight with her thighs.

She didn’t want to do this. She couldn’t believe that Lorian had the audacity. Why hadn’t she had a vision of this? What was her magic even good for if it didn’t warn her about impending doom any longer? She reached for it then, searching for that connection to the spirit plane. Demanding its release. Her head buzzed and buzzed and buzzed. Only getting louder and more persistent as she attempted to force it to do her business. Her vision swam and then went black at the edges. Still, she pushed.

The last thing she remembered was her magic leaching from her core and everything falling into darkness.

She woke again inside the mountain. Two Society Guards hauled her by either elbow. She got her feet under her and blinked. There hadn’t been a vision. Not a single thing. She’d just expended her magic and passed out. Thanks, universe!

“Oh, good. You’re awake,” Lorian said at the bottom of the flight of stairs. “Here will do.”

The guards deposited her in an iron-lined cell. The Fae guards hastened back out as quickly as possible. The walls felt as if they were leaning. So much iron that it was nearly oppressive to Kerrigan, whose Fae blood was so diluted. They hadn’t even put Basem Nix in a cell with this much iron. How telling that they’d shove a half-Fae in one who had done nothing, but not a murderer.

Lorian stood before her, seemingly unperturbed by the iron. He looked smug as he watched her take in her surroundings—a smelly straw pallet, a metal bucket, and cold, hard stone.

“This is where you’ve always belonged.”

“You’re not going to get away with this,” she told him.

“Arresting a rioter that I caught in the act?” He shook his head at her as if she were so naive. He was the sole witness. She wished more than anything that she had an ounce of her magic to wipe that look off of his face.

Lorian turned then, as if that was all he was going to say on the matter. Just leave her down here to rot. A commotion on the steps stilled him. And in that moment, Helly burst through the doorway.

“What is the meaning of this, Lorian?” Helly demanded.

“Hellina,” he said mildly. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“You have overstepped.” Her eyes were wild. She looked half-ready to throttle him. “You have no authority to arrest a Society trainee when she has done nothing wrong. This is outrageous. I will request an inquest from the council.”

“I must agree with her, Master Lorian,” another voice said, following in Helly’s wake.

Kerrigan craned her neck to see Mistress Anahi step into the prison. She was nearly as short as Kerrigan with long, perfectly glossy box braids and deep black skin. Anahi barely suppressed a shudder at the iron all around them. Kerrigan was surprised to see Anahi here with Helly, as they didn’t always see eye to eye. They must have been meeting at the time or else Helly wouldn’t have brought her along.

“I do not approve of the protests outside, but they are legal. Arresting a Society trainee is outside of the bounds of your jurisdiction,” she said with a flat northern accent, indicating her Sayair tribe high in the Vert Mountains.

Lorian glared at both of them. “It was not a protest. It was a riot. I have every right to arrest someone inciting violence in Kinkadia. That is our express purpose—to govern and protect the people. And I must protect our people from her.”

“He’s lying!” Kerrigan cried. “I was at a protest, but we weren’t rioting. We were marching through the streets. We were herded away, and the exits were closed off. Red Masks destroyed buildings, threw smoke bombs, and were killing people.”

“I saw nothing of the sort,” Lorian said.

“You came too late. You let the Red Masks escape.”

Lorian actually had the audacity to roll his eyes. “There were no Red Masks. Their leader was murdered months ago, and they have dissolved, if they were ever what you claimed in the first place.”