I never did look forward to this day, though I knew it was approaching.

The cold, and much heavier than believed, shackles around my wrists, the dark corridor that got ever increasingly darker as we traveled down it, and the occasional shove from behind me, though my pace was not getting any faster. I could say that this was a dream, so out of touch with my reality, but…it was not. I simply got comfortable. Never get comfortable.

The guard tailing me pushed against my shoulder, guiding me to the left as the hallway split. Stone made the walls, creating the path that seemed to get smaller with each step. There was nothing memorable about the way to the dungeons—no portraits of past conquerors or statues of dead gods—likely intentional in case of any escapees. Would not want any markings to help them guide their way out.

The air felt stiff the closer we got to the cells, though voices began to creep through the cracks in the door up ahead. Laughter and happiness trickled out, making my stomach turn upside down. One of them sounded increasingly familiar.

The guard in my company gripped my arm before stepping around me and pushing open the door to a bright room, lit by multiple lanterns and candles. Directly ahead was a gated door with a large lock in place to keep it closed. Blocking the way to my assumed permanent home were three people, all wearing different military uniforms. One guard woman sat in a chair against the wall to the far right, a painting of the god Badune hanging above her. A man wearing the uniform of the cell keeper sat at the desk to the left, leaning back casually as his gaze drifted towards me. The final man leaned sideways against the desk as he turned to face me; his hip pressed against the old wooden thing. Both the emblem on his biceps and smug smirk as he looked at me expressed that he was the highest-ranking person in the room. Ego—never confidence with this asshole.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Even his voice was like nails against my ears. No wonder I had not seen him at the hearing.

“Likewise,” I smiled back, though I could feel my lip curling in annoyance, “Why is the great Commander Luis gracing me with his presence?”

Commander Asshole pushed himself off the desk, looking down briefly to grab a piece of paper that laid flat in front of the cell keeper. His hair had been closely cut since the last time I had seen him, proudly showing off the lines of ink that curled around his jawline, tracing around his neck. The patterns disappeared underneath the gleaming silver that hugged his torso. “Since I was not allowed to be at your hearing, I figured you would enjoy me at your welcome party instead.”

Joy. I did not reply, receiving a smirk my way in response. If I was not shackled, I would have smacked it off his face. …I did still have my feet.

The guard that had been with me for most of my journey stepped around me without a word, taking a set of keys from the cell keeper. Meanwhile, the Commander began to speak as he read from the paper.

“Braithe Blackhart, you have been sentenced for twenty years for the following—theft,”

Obviously.

“Multiple counts of theft of a nobility’s belongings,”

Too many to count, I supposed.

“In possession of a nobility’s belongings,”

Only a bracelet. Didn’t fit the old Duchess anyway.

“Theft of a Councilman or Councilwoman’s belongings,”

Both a Councilman and Councilwoman, but they did not need to know that.

“Defamation, defamation of an individual in the nobility,”

The truth is not defamation.

“Stolen identity of an individual in the lower nobility,”

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Once.

“Theft of a Royal’s belongings,”

A nice hefty bounty.

“And the selling of one or multiple items belonging to an individual of the lower nobility.”

Not as nice, but a good dinner.

A sigh came out of the Commander’s mouth, though that smugness never left as he rolled the paper up, “If only we could add being a nuisance to the list.”

“You would be in here a lot longer than I, if that was the case, dear Commander.”

His laughter bounded off the stone walls around us, pure joy from him though I could only hear his snarky attitude jumping out at me.

“Perhaps I should accompany you to your cell, Braithe, just so you get to see my face one last time.”

I could not help my own smugness creep out, smirking up at the man, “You think I’ve seen light for the last time? It’s cute that you think the Society has no power in your walls, Luis.”

The man’s smirk fell—finally—once I spoke his name before he stepped closer to me. Intimidation only worked so many times before it became routine.

Luis was only a few years older than me, though the crinkles by his eyes painted a decade more of pain and anguish. He was no stranger, having been a friend when we were younger. Time changes everyone, however, and with change comes the realization of who you were meant to be. And association with an abandoned rat was never a good look in the hierarchy of Arawon society. That realization gave chase to a long-awaited cat and mouse game—one that he seemed to think he had won. A smaller side of me dreaded that he had, that I would be stuck here for twenty years, maybe longer if he got his grubby hands into it, but I refused to show any sign of doubt. I had to believe in Alvis.

The Commander was tall, towering over me with a dark gaze that would have made any other person cower. Even behind him, I could see the guard that had followed me looking away. There was a reason he had been promoted to Commander so quickly, aside from his adopted bloodline.

“You have no idea how much joy I get seeing you in shackles, Blackhart.” Though his gaze was a regular occurrence, the hatred that was laced in his voice shook me to my core.

“I have an idea,” I hissed back, keeping my eyes on his. I would not be the one to back down.

He tossed the roll of paper back towards the cell keeper, eyes rested on me, “Well, as much as I wish to see the cell door shut behind you, I do have other places to be.”

The guard behind him had traveled to my side at some point and grabbed my arm once more, pulling me towards the gated door. I could already see the spiraling downwards staircase behind it, darkening quickly into dungeon depths.

Commander Luis sidestepped, making room for the guard and I. It did not take long for the guard to shove the key from the large ring into the lock. Rusted metal on rusted metal seemingly echoed in my head, like tolls from a bell.

“Maybe by the time you get out, the world will be at peace, Braithe. And the Society gone.”

Blasphemy from the mouth of a traitor.

I did not bother responding to him, nor looking back to see his expression. Whether smug or blank, I could not hope for the man to feel any remorse. Not now.

The guard pushed the heavy door open, tugging me along as he passed through the wide metal arch. It felt colder as I followed, no lanterns or candles for comfort. The guard knew the way like the back of his hand and did not stop to help me down the stairs. He did not care if I tripped, continuously pulling me forward without any concern for his shackled companion.

The stairs did not go down for long, but enough for the temperature to drop as though the dungeon had been built in the pits of the Iron Mountain rather than the depths of the Queen’s castle. No light, no memorable fixtures—just darkness and stone. It was claustrophobic.

As we arrived at the bottom of the stairs, a hallway straight forward appeared. My eyes adjusted quickly, though it was still hard to tell where the stone ended and a cell door began. Rustling was heard as we passed each one, but no voices came out from the darkness. After the fourth or fifth cell—still too dark to tell—the guard stopped, halting me in my own tracks.

He wrestled with the keys, struggling to find to right one for a short time, before thrusting it into a spot in the cell door. It opened and he wasted no time pushing me inside and tugging the door closed behind me.

Luckily, I did not fall to the floor, gaining my balance quickly. Before he had the chance to walk away, I turned and shook my shackled wrists towards the door.

“Hey! Forget something?”

The guard only huffed and I saw his figure shake a bit as his hand went into his pants pocket. The clink echoed my cell as something was tossed inside, landing close to my feet. He did not linger, heading back the way we came without a word.

I knelt, my right hand going to snatch whatever it was that he had threw. It was familiar, reminding me of my own set that had been given to me as a gift from Reece.

A lockpick.

The guard’s stomping up the stairs could be heard, the door at the top slamming shut echoing shortly after.

What a prick.