Chapter 1

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It might have been the midnight cold, or maybe it was the eery atmosphere, or perhaps some combination of both, but Jade's hairs rose and stayed that way, regardless of how fervently she rubbed her hands up and down her arms.

The minds surrounding her were wild, sometimes downright feral, and hateful, as well as frightened and depressed. If despair had a smell, the stench that lingered in the Royal Prison was it. Jade didn't think she had ever seen this many desperate souls smashed together.

The heavy iron doors squeaked, cutting through the strained silence like a rogue's claws through prey. Jade followed a guard into the next section of the Royal Prison. Warren and Gavin were walking behind her, clutching their spears. Their minds were wakeful and nervous, and she didn't blame them. It was an ominous place no matter the time, but there was something about the dead of night that added an edge of madness to the structure. Something dark and evil; something haunting.

Jade tried not to gaze into the cells she passed, but her eyes were drawn there nonetheless. Weak torch-light reflected on vicious eyes; wolves paced their cells, drawing close the bars, baring yellowed teeth at her. Their minds told stories of abuse – of cold, hunger, exhaustion. Of fear. There more cells she passed, the more she understood – didn't like, but understood – why Ryleigh had chosen death instead.

"Through here, Ma'am," the guard said, opening another door. "Prisoners who have been sentenced to death are kept apart from the general population. Currently your sister is the only one inhabiting this wing."

Jade followed. Her feet clacked against the rough stone, the sound echoing through the big, empty space. If the shrill announcement of the door hadn't alerted Ryleigh to her arrival yet, let alone her hammering heart, then this sure would. Not that Ryleigh needed a heads-up. Knowing her, she had undoubtedly guessed Jade was going to show up long before Jade had even made the decision.

The space was smaller than the other sections of the prison. There were fewer cells and no stairs leading up to higher levels. Six cells lined the walls – three on one side of the room and three on the other. From where she was standing, Jade couldn't see which of the cells held Ryleigh. There was only one torch in the room, mounted right beside the door. Everything further than two feet away was shrouded in pitch black darkness.

Jade's werewolf senses were good enough to make out shapes with reasonable accuracy, but it was easier to rely on hearing. Water dripped from the walls; somewhere in the back of the room a few rats shuffled around; the torch crackled gently beside her; her guards were breathing as though they had just run patrol; and there – the shallow gasps of someone on the edge of death.

The guard took the torch from its hold and progressed into the room. He walked to the far cell on the right side, and Jade followed him in silence. There was a ring screwed into the wall in which he set the torch, and then Jade saw her.

Ryleigh was sitting on the narrow bed that was mounted onto the back wall. She was huddled into the corner beside the left side of the door, her legs drawn up to her chest, her head resting against the wall. She didn't turn when the small company appeared in front of her cell. Her inky gaze bore into the opposite wall and didn't stray. The side of her face was caked in dried blood, originating from a nasty gash right above her temple. The wound should have healed already, but Ryleigh's healing abilities had been messed up for a long time. Too much silver.

"Please leave us," Jade said. The tiniest of winces went through Ryleigh when she spoke. Was she relieved to see her? Dismayed? Angry?

"I am not allowed to leave visitors alone with prisoners, Ma'am," the guard said. From the corner of her eye, she saw he moved his weight uncomfortably. She could tell from his thoughts that he was very much aware of what she had done to one of the castle guards a few weeks prior.

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