The dungeons are much darker and much colder than I imagined. Through iron bars, prisoners watch us pass, Renit guiding me towards one of the cells towards the back. There is no one down this hall, not a prisoner or a guard. I will spend the next three days in the dungeons, alone. All because of Renit and his sick and twisted ways.

When we pass by those many prisoners stuck behind iron bars and stone walls, they wither away at the sight of the prince. Like he is darkness incarnate and if they get too close, he'll swallow them whole. I recognize none of their faces and it is then I know none of the citizens of Arego made it out alive. Otherwise, they would be here, locked away with the rest of the criminals. They must have all been killed.

Every single one of them.

That makes me worry more for Bren and what situation he could have gotten himself into.

Renit unlocks the iron door to a cell and removes the manacle from my wrist before shoving me inside. The cell is larger than the others and the back is a rounded stone wall with nothing more than a bucket and a pile of straw to lie in. The other prisoners are in worse conditions so this cell...it must be reserved for the special people. I nearly thank Renit in a mocking tone but when I turn around to do that, he's already gone andthe door is locked.

Cold sweeps into the cell and the silence investigates the new visitor as I turn towards the pile of straw and nestle myself against the surface. If I can keep myself warm into the nights, I'll have an excellent chance at surviving this. I've seen prisoners carried out of the dungeons in nothing more than bags because they froze down here or their health wasn't properly managed. I could be one of those people.

Why would Renit stop me from stabbing myself in the heart but throw me down here? Letting me end everything in the woods is much easier, that way he wasn't responsible for my death but if I freeze; he's the one who forced me down here.

The dungeons are filled with moans and coughs from the other prisoners. They cry for forgotten loved ones and mourn others passed. All the while, they keep themselves alive or whisper secrets to a prisoner in the other cell because that's their only form of entertainment. It only takes minutes for them to whisper about me and the prince, about who I am and what I could have possibly done to get the luxurious cell. If this is the luxurious cell, that's a shame.

Blood splatter covers one corner of the wall, from the stone to the dirt floor below. I scrunch up my nose at the smell of feces strong enough to make my eyes water. Just when I think this can't get any worse, urine takes over from the straw and tears are flowing down my cheeks—not because of the burning in my throat but because I've realized something. I hate my life.

I used to love life in Arego. Everything was perfect, my family was solid and there was so much love in those dirt streets. We were a family and through the eyes of a stranger; we were indeed blood-related. Now, all of that is gone and I'm left with what I have now.

I hate what my life has ended up to be. But I don't want to...die. Trying to do that with the dagger was a stupid mistake, one I shouldn't have even thought about doing. I'm not ready to leave this world and move onto the next, I want to make something of the life I have. Others are not as lucky, some don't live this long. That's the miracle about life, we don't know how long we are here and how lucky we are to make it this far, even if only a few short years.

My betrothed threw me in the dungeons as a punishment for trying to escape his wrath and there's no telling if he will notify anyone I'm down here. Celestine could be looking for me and I won't be found for the next three days. Silas will think I've run off and the only person to know the truth will be Renit and his selfish games.

At least I think that will be the case until I hear a chipper female voice arguing with company. Celestine. She stomps through the halls; I recognize her footsteps. Loud and obnoxious until her face comes into view. From how fast she walks, her auburn hair blows back in the breeze she created all by herself. She looks pissed. I smile at her at first until Renit marches from around the corner, conveying the same expression as my sister who should not be down here.

"Let her out," Celestine demands. She stops at the iron bars and wraps one of her pale hands around the rusted surface. Compared to the clarity and purity of her power, the dungeons is no place for it. Celestine is a flower growing in a crack of smooth stone. The dungeons are her opposite, the disgusting truth to the beauty in the gardens.

Renit rocks back on his heels. "I can't do that," he counters blandly.

"She is to be your wife someday. Is this how you plan to treat her? Like she's another one of these lowly prisoners?" Her voice rises and echoes off the stone walls keeping us in. Everyone silences, even the sick. Great, now they know who I am. I rest my forehead against the bars and watch their exchange.

Renit stands taller than her but somehow, Celestine looks stronger. Her shoulders are pushed back, her chin is high, and she's not backing down. We've always stood up for each other against bullies in Arego or Bren when he first developed a hint of masculine attitude but this is the prince. A very dangerous prince.

"Roux is being punished for trying to escape. She will stay in here for the next three days and after that, she's free to do as she wishes. Like everyone else, she will serve her punishment." Renit gestures to the hall they walked down, bordered on chipped stone and dusty torches.

To take the edge off, I push myself away from the bars and pace back and forth within my cell. Dust kicks up from my boots and sticks to the once damp surface from the storm Renit created, sticking a dusty layer to the outside of the new leather.

Celestine glares at him through lowered brows. Someone must have delivered the news while she was sleeping because in the glow of the torchlight, her silk pajamas glisten from where they're stuffed into her leather boots. And her hair looks like she attempted to brush out the strands with her fingertips instead of an actual comb.

"You are a sick and twisted man," Celestine hisses. "You don't deserve her. Roux is the kindest, most loving, and most protective person I've ever known and if you don't let her out—"

Renit pulls a knife from the baldric and points the tip at Celestine's chin. My sister's eyes widen and I run to the bars, immediately sticking my arm through. "Don't touch her!" I scream. Celestine doesn't back down, not a single step. One more move from Renit and she's spilling blood onto the dungeon floor. "I'll kill you!" When he doesn't look at me, I slam my hands against those iron bars. They hum with vibration and my palms sting. He backs her into a wall. "She is the last thing I have let and if you touch her, I will murder you."

His glare finally snaps over to me, halfway reaching out the bars with my forehead rested between two of them so I can reach farther. My arms are not long enough. Renit's face twitches with some recognition and just like that, the knife rerturns to his baldric like the blade never breathed air before.

"Now leave, both of you," I order. "Celestine, go back to your chambers and wait out the next three days."

"But Roux, you're—"

"I said go upstairs!" I slam my hands against the bars once more and she jumps, startled, but obeys with a very low, shoulder drooping nod. My heart aches with guilt but that's the only way she'll listen. Brute force.

That leaves Renit, studying me. I press my forehead against the cold bars and close my eyes with a sigh. His hands are clenched into fists and from the surrounding tightness, a temper tied into a knot, he is ready to spew another insult. I'm ready for it, I wait just like every other time I've been on the receiving end. But to my surprise, he turns on his heel. I stare through his broad shoulders to the spine underneath, longing to call after him so we can work this out.

I've almost given up thinking he'll ever turn back around when he does, a quick glance over his shoulder, before continuing on to whatever hole he crawled out of.