Declan does not say a word as he leads me down the stone steps into the dungeon, and the air grows colder with every step while the scent of damp earth and iron presses into my lungs like a reminder that this place was built for punishment, not comfort.
The torches along the wall flicker weakly, and shadows stretch across the floor in long, warped shapes as he unlocks one of the cells and pulls the heavy metal door open.
I step inside without resisting, and the clang of the door shutting behind me echoes harder than it should.
All the other cells are empty.
Of course they are.
I turn slowly, taking in the narrow cot, the thin blanket, the rust along the bars, and I feel something inside me go still in a way that is almost peaceful.
Declan grips the bars and looks at me like he is the
