Crowned in Crimson Cinders

Chapter 52: A Formulating Plan

The stone floor bit into my skin, cold and unyielding. My head throbbed, a relentless drumbeat against my skull, and a strange, crusty sensation clung beneath my nose. I lifted a tentative hand, my fingers brushing against tiny, brittle flakes. Dried blood. My nose must have been bleeding, or broken.

"Sorry about that," a voice echoed from the corner, too familiar, too casual. My heart plummeted as the recognition hit me. All this time, I defended her and called her my ally—my friend. Now, I was being betrayed by one of the few people I truly trusted. "I was aiming for the back of your head, not the front. You turned right at the wrong moment. Doesn't look like your nose is broken, though."

"Who are you and what do you want?" I demanded. I knew who it was—who she was underneath the shadow of her hood. I just didn't want to admit it. My eyes scanned the dim room for Darian. There he was, three feet away, still unconscious. I started toward him, but a sharp tug on my wrists stopped me. Chains.

The woman laughed, a chilling, disembodied sound. "You should be more concerned about yourself. And really..." She said, shafting her gaze to Darian with a judgemental and disgusted look on her face. "How could you fall for someone like him? A man who's slaughtered hundreds of your people?"

That voice. So familiar, yet laced with a bitterness I'd never heard. I knew her, knew who was standing there, shrouded in shadow. But how could such anger reside in someone who had only ever shown me kindness?

"What happened to you?" I asked, the words tumbling out before I could stop them.

She didn't answer immediately. Perhaps she hadn't expected the question, or thought I wouldn't recognize her. "What do you mean?"

"I guess I should have been more specific. What in the hell happened to you, Sabrina?"

A long silence stretched between us. Then, slowly, she lifted the hood from her face, then the mask from her eyes.

"How did you—"

"You must think I'm incredibly stupid not to recognize your voice after knowing you my entire life."

The hood fell away completely, revealing the face of the first person who ever offered me true friendship. My friend. Now, it seemed, my enemy. How much more pain would I have to endure before I found my happy ending? Brock's warnings about Bri, my own fervent defenses—they all crashed down on me. I should have listened. Should have seen past my affection. I had trusted Bri, and she had betrayed me.

After all this time, she's been the one behind everything. All those times we spoke about our plans with her, about who we suspected.

But if she was the one behind it, then why was the note found in Amora's bedroom?

Amora has to be involved somehow.

Darian stirred then, his eyes fluttering open.

"Took you long enough," Bri said, rolling her eyes.

I ignored her, fighting to suppress the surge of conflicting emotions. "Are you okay?" I asked, helping him sit upright.

"Yeah, I think so. My head hurts, though. Where are we?"

"Well," I said, gesturing around the room as best as I could with the chains around my wrists at our lamentable citcumstances

"Oh," he said. "Things didn't go well, I take it."

"Prince Darian of Trithia." A fresh wave of dread washed over me as Amora's voice cut through the air. A sob clawed at my throat. She sauntered through the doorway, her hands at her hips as she looked down at us chained to the floor like prisoners.