If only my royals could see Lucien, they’d know Lucien Finn was an imposter, Talisyn might finally convince them that I was a dragon shifter, and I’d no longer be separated from them by a rising river of lies.
I’d convinced myself that I wanted so badly for the royals to know the truth, that it was only the spell stopping me, and yet now that it was a possibility, I felt a hum of dread. Things weren’t exactly ideal with the royals and me, but they weren’t bad, either. The discovery I’d been lying might blast all of us apart. Even though I hadn’t chosen those lies.
And until they did know… how was I going to sleep while Lucien Finn withered in the dungeon?
I toasted some bread, doused it with an excessive amount of butter—we all deserve excessively buttered toast—and poured a tall glass of milk. And a glass of beer. I wasn’t sure which Lucien needed more. I set everything on a tray and carried it downstairs.
For a second, I’d almost wondered if I dreamed Lucien, but he still stood there at the bars, still wild-eyed.
“Back up,” I said firmly. He did, backing all the way across the room. I set the tray down on the floor and slid it through the narrow gap.
He set on the food ravenously, shoving toast into his mouth and grumbling over his soup like a rabid animal. Adrenaline twanged through me all over again. I toyed with the end of my ponytail as I watched him, trying to hear myself think over the noises he made.
I couldn’t set him free. I had to know what he’d done.
“Did you really rape Alina?” I asked.
He ignored me, but then his head snapped up at her name. The wild in his eyes seemed to calm. I held my breath, thinking that Lucien Finn was returning, that he was going to explain everything.
Then he said, “Yes.”
He sounded cooler, calmer, than before. As if he’d returned to the true Lucien Finn.
“Why would you admit that to me?”
“I’d rather be dead, remember?” He lifted his bowl in his hands and drained the last of his soup. This time, he wiped the back of his hand over his beard afterward, with all the dignity anyone can manage with beads of soup in their whiskers.
He was lying. I couldn’t explain how I knew he was lying, but the way he’d changed at Alina’s name, the way he’d recovered some inner part of himself that had almost been lost in the dungeon… that was the act of a man who genuinely loved a woman. Despite what the twisted will tell themselves, nobody hurts the ones they love.
“Liar.” My voice came out low and fierce, surprising me, and his eyes widened.
“What do you want from me?”
“The truth.”
“If Joachim sent you here, my story isn’t going to change.”
“And what if Joachim didn’t send me? I wasn’t supposed to find you, Lucien. No one was. The house is empty.”
His face twisted with emotion. “It doesn’t matter. No one comes except for him. And now, you.” He glanced me over with obvious suspicion.
“Let me tell you why you can trust me,” I said.
“Do enlighten me,” he said dryly, and there was a bit of that noble condescension peeking through. He seemed to be recovering himself as we spoke.
I muttered a word, felt my features shift, my shoulders broaden. My shoes were suddenly tight.
His jaw hung open. He took a step back, tripped, sprawled on his ass, kept staring at me from the floor.
“Oh come on, you aren’t that ugly.” I rubbed my hand across my face, felt how smooth my jaw was, unlike his. “I’ve been taking your place in society.”
“Why? Has Alina seen you?”
“No,” I said. “I thought you were dead.”
“Why?” he demanded again.
My lips parted to tell him, but that heaviness descended on my brain again, slurring my words and slowing my thoughts. I shook my head, trying to clear it.
He was staring at me with open curiosity. “You’re enchanted too?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Teris is always heavy handed with the spells. Makes them hurt.” His lips twisted. “He does like to make things hurt.”
“Did the Elders torture you?”
“Joachim has every intention of killing Alina if he can ever be sure she betrayed him.” He studied me, a feral glint in his eye.
He hadn’t quite answered my question.
But he pressed on with his own. “Why did the Elders want you to take my place?”
“I’m too inconvenient otherwise. You must have had your first shift in here. What’s your soul creature?”
“Show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”
“I can’t.”
“Because Joachim enchanted you?”
“Because I’ll bring the dungeon crashing down on us.”
“You’re big. A bear…” He trailed off, frowning, as if gears were turning for him.
Well, Lucien Finn made terrible life decisions, but he didn’t seem to be a moron in every way.
“Tell me what you are,” I pressed.
“A wolf.” He hefted the beer and the milk, one in each hand, looking torn between them. “Is there anything else to eat? Cake, perhaps?”
“Take it slow. I’ll be back,” I promised. “I’m not going to leave you alone down here. Even though you’re a liar.”
As I said the last, I realized maybe I should’ve used the threat of being sealed up in here alone again to force him to tell me the truth. But I couldn’t bear to do that. It seemed too cruel.
“My story isn’t going to change,” he warned.
“Fine.” I glanced around his barren cell. “If I bring you something to read, do you promise not to try to paper-cut your way out of this life?”
“Are you going to set me free?”
I stared at him, knowing I couldn’t answer that question right now.
“Depends on if you really raped Alina or not,” I said crisply. I was sure he was lying about it, but that gut feeling wasn’t the same as hearing it from her lips. I needed to know for sure.
And I also needed to figure out what the hell I was going to do with him.
Keeping an eye on the time and an ear out for the footsteps of my royals, I made a dozen trips to and from the dungeon. I brought him books, pen and ink and paper, pillows, blankets, extra tunics and leggings. I dragged a few unappreciated works of art in and propped them against the wall.
“Give me a fiddle,” he asked. There was a pleading note in his voice that I couldn’t quite resist, so I found one in the basement’s pile of boxes and carried it in.
He strummed his fingers over the strings, then winced. “Badly out of tune,” he muttered half to himself, beginning to change the strings. “But then, so am I.”
While he was distracted, I stared at the cell, trying to figure out its secrets. There was a toilet and sink in one corner, and up near the ceiling, there was a narrow conduit no bigger around than one of those jars of soup, which must carry in fresh air from outside. The torches glowed steadily and never seemed to burn down at all.
I looked at Lucien Finn, emaciated but still alive. He should have rotted down here.
The Elders’ magic was powerful, more powerful than I’d ever realized.
Lucien and I faced dangerous enemies, enemies that seemed to have every advantage over the two of us.
Chapter
Thirty-Five
Honor