Chapter 59 The Dungeon's Truth
ARIA'S POV
"You're lying."
My voice sounded hollow in Dante's chamber. The shattered vial of truth serum glittered on the floor like broken stars, and my father's contract sat in my trembling hands with Sebastian's signature burning into my eyes.
"I wish I was." Dante's expression was almost sympathetic. "But the witness signatures are verified by blood magic. They can't be forged."
Twenty-five years ago. Sebastian had known about me my entire life. Had watched me be marked for death and done nothing.
"Why?" The word came out broken. "Why would he—"
"That's what you need to ask him." Dante moved to the door. "Come. I'll get you into the dungeons. But we need to leave now, before Morgana changes the guard rotation."
Kieran grabbed my arm. "Aria, this could be exactly what Dante wants—to drive a wedge between you and Sebastian."
"The signature is real," Dante said flatly. "Ask Sebastian yourself if you don't believe me."
Through the bond, I felt Sebastian's pain spike—a sharp, burning agony that made me gasp. They were torturing him right now while I stood here drowning in betrayal.
"Let's go," I said.
The blood dungeons were exactly as horrible as they sounded.
We descended through passages that grew colder with each step. The walls were carved from black stone that seemed to absorb light. And the smell—iron and decay and centuries of suffering.
Dante had disguised me in a guard's cloak, my face hidden in shadow. We passed cells holding vampires I didn't recognize, their screams echoing off stone.
"Here," Dante whispered, stopping at a heavy iron door. "I can give you five minutes. After that, the next patrol comes through and even I can't protect you."
He unlocked the door with a key that glowed red. "Whatever he tells you, remember—he had twenty-five years to tell you the truth. He chose not to."
The door swung open.
Sebastian hung from chains against the far wall, his shirt torn and bloodied. Burns covered his arms where they'd used something—holy water, maybe, or blessed silver. His head hung forward, dark hair hiding his face.
"Sebastian," I breathed.
His head snapped up. Those ice-blue eyes widened in shock, then horror. "Aria? No—you can't be here—"
"Is it true?" I crossed to him, the contract clenched in my fist. "Did you sign this? Did you witness the contract that sold me to the vampire court?"
Pain flashed across his face—not from his wounds, but something deeper. "How did you—Dante. Of course." He closed his eyes. "Yes. It's true."
The confirmation hit like a physical blow. "Why?"
"Because I was a coward." His voice was raw. "Twenty-five years ago, your father came to me, desperate. Your mother was trying to flee with you—she'd discovered you were Sanguine-blessed and knew what the court would do. Your father was terrified of losing his wealth, his status. He made a deal."
"And you just—agreed?"
"No!" Sebastian's eyes blazed. "I tried to refuse. But Morgana was there. She'd already discovered what you were through her spies. She threatened to execute your entire family—your father, your mother, you—unless we did it her way. 'Let the child live,' she said. 'Give her twenty-five years of life, then she fulfills her purpose.'"
His chains rattled as he strained forward.
"I thought I was saving you," he said desperately. "Your mother would die either way—Morgana had already poisoned her, slowly, to force your father's hand. But I could give you time. A childhood. A chance at life before—" His voice broke. "I told myself it was mercy."
"Mercy?" Tears burned my eyes. "You sold me!"
"I know." The admission came out as a whisper. "I know. And every year, I thought about finding you. Stopping it. But I was afraid. Afraid that breaking the contract would give Morgana an excuse to kill you immediately. Afraid that I'd make things worse." He met my gaze, and the pain in his eyes was unbearable. "When you walked into that throne room, I didn't recognize you at first. Then I tasted your blood and realized—this brave, extraordinary woman was the child I'd condemned. The girl I'd been too much of a coward to save."
I backed away, my mind reeling. "So stopping the ritual—that was guilt?"
"It was love!" The word exploded from him. "Aria, the moment your blood touched my lips, I felt the curse break. I felt warmth, life, hope—things I thought I'd never feel again. And I realized I'd been given a second chance. Not just to save you, but to become the man Celeste believed I could be."
"Your sister died asking you to break the ritual," I said, my voice shaking. "And you spent eight hundred years being too much of a coward to honor that."
"Yes." Sebastian sagged in his chains. "I failed her. I failed you. I failed everyone who ever trusted me." He looked up at me, tears streaking through the blood on his face. "But I'm done failing. Even if you hate me, even if you never forgive me—I will find a way to stop Morgana and save the remaining brides. I swear it on Celeste's memory."
I wanted to scream at him. To rage. To make him hurt the way I was hurting.
But through the bond, I felt his truth. His shame. His desperate, terrified love.
"Aria," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."
Before I could answer, footsteps echoed in the corridor outside.
"Time's up," Dante's voice called softly. "Aria, we need to leave now."
I looked at Sebastian one last time. "The execution is at dawn?"
"Yes. Morgana plans to drain me, then use my blood to complete the ritual with the remaining brides." His jaw clenched. "Don't try to stop it. Get yourself and Elena somewhere safe—"
"Shut up." I moved closer, pulling something from my pocket—a vial of my own blood I'd prepared earlier. "Drink this. It'll help with the pain."
"Aria, no—"
I pressed it to his lips. "Drink. That's not a request."
He drank, and I felt the bond strengthen between us. The blood would sustain him through the night, keep the curse at bay just a little longer.
"Why?" he asked hoarsely. "After everything I've done—"
"Because Celeste was right." I touched his face gently. "You need to find another way. And you can't do that if you're dead."
I turned to leave.
"I love you," Sebastian said quietly. "I know I have no right to say it, but—I love you, Aria Thornwell. More than I've loved anything in eight hundred years."
My hand froze on the door. I didn't turn around.
"I know," I whispered.
Then I left, Dante's hand on my arm guiding me through the darkness.
We'd almost reached the upper levels when Dante suddenly pulled me into a side passage.
"What—"
He clamped a hand over my mouth. Footsteps passed—guards, lots of them, moving fast.
When they were gone, Dante released me. "Something's wrong. That was triple the normal patrol."
We continued more carefully. Finally reached his chambers. Kieran and Elena waited inside, both looking terrified.
"What happened?" I demanded.
Elena's face was white. "Morgana came looking for you. She knows you left the safe house."
"How?"
"I don't know." Kieran paced. "But she's issued a new order. Anyone found harboring you is to be executed immediately."
Dante cursed softly. "I need to distance myself publicly, or she'll accuse me of treason before I can challenge her." He looked at me apologetically. "I can't hide you anymore."
"Where do we go?" Elena asked, her voice small.
Before anyone could answer, the door exploded inward.
Morgana strode in, flanked by a dozen warriors. Her smile was vicious and triumphant.
"Prince Dante," she purred. "Imagine my surprise when my spies reported you smuggling a fugitive into the dungeons. Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"
Dante's expression went carefully neutral. "Lady Morgana. I was merely—"
"Committing treason." She snapped her fingers, and the warriors seized him. "Take him to the dungeons. He can keep Sebastian company until they're both executed at dawn."
"No!" I lunged forward, but more warriors grabbed me.
Morgana moved closer, studying me like a bug under glass. "And you, little healer. You've been very busy tonight. Visiting your condemned lover. Making plans. It's almost admirable."
She pulled out a small blade.
"But I'm afraid I can't let you interfere anymore." The blade flashed, cutting across my arm. Blood welled, and Morgana caught it in a vial. "This will do nicely for the ritual. We don't need you alive anymore—just your blood."
My healing power flared automatically, trying to close the wound. But Morgana's blade was enchanted. The cut wouldn't heal.
"Take her to the ceremonial chamber," Morgana ordered. "And prepare the other brides. We're moving the execution up."
"Up to when?" Elena's voice shook.
Morgana's smile widened.
"To midnight. Tonight."