Page 12 of The Crowned Queen

“It’s actually a fascinating technique,” Rian chimed in. “Whoever is helping them has a brilliant runesmith at their disposal. Removing the rune altogether isn’t particularly difficult, but to hide that it’s been tampered with⁠—”

“Rian,” Garrick said softly. “We’re in mixed company.”

The conversation shifted to more trivial matters, washing over Araya until it all blurred together, drowned out by the thunder of her own heartbeat in her ears. Jaxon’s fingers traced patterns on her knee, sliding higher and higher. She wanted to scream. Wanted to run. But all she could do was sit there.

The first course—some sort of creamy soup Araya was afraid to try and eat with her shaking hands—came and went. Belanis set a second plate down in front of her, whisking away the silver lid to reveal an herb-crusted cut of lamb nestled in a buttery bed of new potatoes and spring peas.

“You’ve barely touched your food,” Jaxon murmured, his breath hot against her skin. “Eat something.”

Araya forced herself to cut a bite of the lamb. The meat was so tender it practically melted on her tongue, but she could barely taste it. She speared another, raising it to her lips as the conversation flowed around her.

“—but I barely see Kai anymore,” Caylin complained. She jabbed him in the side, making him jump in his seat. “You’re always working or holed up with your research ever since we got back from Eluneth.”

“Really?” Rian’s head jerked up. “What have you been working on?”

“Oh—” Kai cleared his throat. “Just working through some of our staple runes from the ground up, looking for ways to make improvements, Father. Nothing you’d be interested in⁠—”

“I’m always interested in your work,” Rian protested. “You have a brilliant mind, Kai. You just need to take the opportunities for research as they arise. Like tonight, for instance⁠—”

“Tonight?” Kai straightened, staring at his father. “What’s happening tonight?”

“Well—” Rian glanced at the head of the table, his face brightening when Garrick lifted his glass, nodding slightly. “I recommended you,” he continued in a rush. “To complete Miss Starwind’s runework. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity, considering her bond mechanics⁠—”

Kai put his glass down too hard. “What runework?”

“Sor’vael,” Rian continued, grinning widely. “I know, it’s absolutely unprecedented. The research you’ll be able to publish⁠—”

Kai’s tanned face paled, turning sickly. “But we don’t use compulsion runes anymore.”

“Not in standard cases,” Rian agreed. “But in this one? I’d call her an ideal subject.”

Araya’s fork slipped from her fingers, clattering against the plate.

Sor—it meant will. Vael—submit.

They were going to carve obedience into her skin. No, Kai was going to carve obedience into her skin. Take the only thing she had left and tear it out of her like a weed from a garden.

Araya shoved back from the table. Her wineglass toppled, red blooming across the white linen like blood. The iron collar burned around her neck as she lurched to her feet, stumbling back. She couldn’t let them do this. Couldn’t let them take this last thing from her.

With no other options left to her, Araya turned and raced for the door.

She didn’t even make it out of the dining room.

The guards from earlier grabbed her by the arms, laughing as she thrashed and twisted against their grip. Araya lashed out, her bare foot connecting hard with something—and then one of the guards struck her across the face, the open-handed blow landing so hard that the world spun, her ears ringing.

“No fucking kicking,” the other guard snapped, rubbing his side.

She refused to walk so they dragged her. Down the hall and through the familiar iron door, the rough stone stairs biting into her bare feet and the air growing colder with every step they descended.

It shouldn’t have surprised her that Garrick Shaw had a dungeon under his home. She’d always known who he was—what he had done. But after he’d welcomed her as Jaxon’s bond, she’d struggled to reconcile his kindness with the man known as the Architect of the New Dominion, the ruthless Arcanum official who had toppled the fae monarchy and built a world carefully calibrated to grind her kind beneath his boot.

She didn’t struggle to recognize him now.

“We set it up to your specifications,” Garrick said somewhere behind her. “The runesmiths in the camps don’t have anywhere near as exacting requirements.”

Someone—Rian, maybe—chuckled. “The runesmiths in the camps are butchers. Kai is an artist.”

“No.” Araya jerked against the guards’ grip again, her bare feet scrabbling across the cold stone. “Jaxon. Kai—” his name tore from her throat before she could stop it, desperate. They were friends. He didn’t agree with this—he’d let Eilwen go. He wouldn’t let them do this to her. “Please⁠—”