Chapter 63 Bone-Deep Cold - Amelia’s POV
Cold.
That was the first thing I registered as consciousness seeped back into my body—a bone-deep chill seeping up through stone and into my flesh. My eyelids felt weighted, refusing to open as my brain struggled to make sense of where I was and how I'd gotten there. The last thing I remembered was walking through the castle corridors, clutching the evidence to my chest, determined to finally tell Aleksandr everything. Then darkness. A cloth over my face. The chemical burn in my lungs. And now... this cold, damp floor beneath my cheek and the distant drip of water echoing against stone walls.
I tried to move, but my limbs felt leaden, disconnected from my will. Something rough scratched against my wrists—rope, I realised dimly. I was bound, hands behind my back, ankles tied together. Panic fluttered in my chest like a trapped bird.
'Amelia!' Kaela's voice cut through the fog in my mind, sharp with relief and fear. 'You're awake. Finally. I've been trying to reach you for hours.'
'Hours?' I echoed mentally, the word slipping between us like a stone dropped into still water. 'Where are we?'
'I don't know. Underground somewhere. They drugged you. Us.' Her presence in my mind felt jittery, unstable. 'It was wolfsbane, I think. I can still taste it. Like ash and poison.'
With tremendous effort, I pried my eyes open. The world swam into focus slowly—gray stone walls slick with moisture, a low ceiling with exposed pipes, a single bulb hanging from frayed wires casting sickly yellow light across the small space. A cell, or something very like it. No windows. One heavy metal door with a small barred opening at eye level.
And sitting across from me on a folding metal chair, hands clasped neatly in his lap, was Councillor Blackthorn.
My stomach dropped. Of all the council members, he had seemed the most harmless—the genial bureaucrat with wire-rimmed glasses and a grandfatherly demeanor. Now those amber eyes studied me with clinical detachment, the laugh lines around them no longer seeming kind but calculating.
"What the hell is going on?" I croaked, my voice raw as if I'd been screaming. Had I? I couldn't remember.
'It was him,' Kaela snarled, rage building like a physical heat in our shared consciousness. 'He's the one who broke into our room. Left the notes, the photos.'
"Ah, you're awake." Blackthorn's voice was exactly as I remembered it—mild, pleasant, cultured. The voice of a man who'd survived three Alpha Kings by never seeming threatening. "I was beginning to worry we'd miscalculated the dosage."
I struggled to sit up, fighting against the ropes and my own uncooperative body. Eventually, I managed to prop myself against the damp wall, the effort leaving me panting and dizzy. "Where am I? Why have you done this?"
Blackthorn gave me a sad smile, the practiced expression of someone delivering unwelcome news to a subordinate. "I'm sorry it has to be this way, Miss Lovelace. Truly I am. But it's for the best."
"The best?" I repeated, disbelief sharpening my tone. "Kidnapping me is for the best?"
"In the grand scheme, yes." He adjusted his glasses, the gesture so normal, so incongruous with our surroundings that it bordered on absurd. "We can't have you breaking the king's curse. The kingdom's future depends on it."
The words hit me like a slap. I stared at him, trying to make sense of what he was saying. "Why not? Why wouldn't you want the curse broken?"
'Because they're traitors,' Kaela growled. 'They want him to fall.'
"Because there's a better king waiting to take over," Blackthorn said, confirming Kaela's suspicion with such casual ease that my blood ran cold. "But if Aleksandr is healed, if the curse is broken... well, the new king can't step in, can he?"
I felt sick. They had planned this—not just the threats and photos, not just my kidnapping, but Aleksandr's downfall itself. "So you plan to let him go mad without me? To just... watch as the curse destroys him?"
"Unfortunately so, child." He had the audacity to look regretful, as if we were discussing an unpleasant but necessary business decision rather than the deliberate destruction of a man's life. "It's nothing against you, my dear, just what you represent."
'I'll kill him,' Kaela raged, throwing herself against the confines of our shared body. 'I swear I'll rip his throat out.'
Her fury burned through me, lending strength to my trembling limbs. "And what exactly do I represent, Councillor?"
He studied me for a moment, head tilted slightly like I was a curiosity in a museum. "Hope," he said finally. "The unexpected variable. When Aleksandr first began interviewing potential mates, we knew exactly how to ensure none would be suitable. The wolfsbane in his food during meetings, subtle suggestions to Skoll that this one or that one wasn't right... seventeen rejections, each one pushing him closer to the edge."
Horror crawled up my throat. "You've been poisoning him?"
"Guiding events," he corrected mildly. "Small doses, nothing lethal. Just enough to make the curse progress as it should."
"As it should?" I echoed, disgust twisting my gut. "You want him to succumb."
"It's the natural order of things." Blackthorn crossed his legs, settling in as if for a pleasant chat. "Every Alpha King faces the Centennial. Those who find their true mate survive; those who don't make way for the next king. It's how we ensure only the strongest rule."
"And who is this 'better king' you're making way for?" I demanded, though I suspected I already knew. "Kane? Is he the one you're working for?"
Blackthorn's smile never wavered. "Councillor Kane has the bloodline, the strength, and the vision to lead this kingdom into a new era. Aleksandr was a fine king in his time, but that time is ending. He's grown... soft."
"Because he shows mercy? Because he doesn't rule through fear alone?"
"Because he puts individual welfare above kingdom strength," Blackthorn corrected. "This weakness would be exploited by our enemies eventually. Kane understands what must be done to ensure our dominance continues."