Chapter 5

ZEKE

They threw me into the cell, the stone floor slamming into my ribs. A sharp breath tore from my throat, but I forced myself up, dragging against the cold wall as the guards loomed outside the bars.

"Try that again, and you'll be wishing for death," one of them spat, his boot kicking against the bars before he turned away.

I wiped at my mouth, fingers coming away red. My lip was split, my ribs ached, and my head was still spinning, but none of it mattered now. I pushed my hair back, my breath uneven. "Curse the gods," I muttered, pressing my head against the stone.

I shouldn't have expected the King to go along with my plan. It was reckless, stupid—better than choking on my own blood. Then again, he almost had. Just not with his hands but with a cock that was too big to be real.

A laugh bubbled up. Mate. I had been testing him when I said it, but his reaction had told me everything I needed to know.

I really was the king’s mate.

I let out a harsh breath, my hands slapped against the wall as laughter spilled from my lips. Of all the fucked-up games the gods had played, this had to be the cruelest.

To the king, at least. To me? It was hilarious—maybe the only thing that had kept my head on my shoulders.

Hours passed. I paced the small length of the cell, lay on the hard stone, drifted in and out of restless sleep. My stomach twisted with hunger, the ache settling deep in my gut.

I slammed my palm against the bars. “Guards! Someone bring me food and water! You seem to have forgotten you’ve got a starving prisoner rotting away in here!” My voice echoed through the empty corridor, met only with distant grunts and silence.

I huffed. “Did you not hear me? The king’s mate is hungry.”

That got a response. I heard the clank of armor, the slow footsteps drawing closer until a figure stepped into view.

Vael.

I clicked my tongue, my gaze dropping to the bowl of water in his hand.

“I heard the king put your mouth to good use when you tried to flee,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

I leaned against the bars, pressing my face against the cold metal, watching him because I knew that wasn’t all he had to say.

“You should have told me sooner,” he continued, his grin widening as he fisted himself. “I would have gladly taken your holes for myself instead of the golds you give me.”

He held the water just out of reach, his smirk widening as he watched me. I grinned back and turned, gripping the bars tightly. “Give me the water, Vael,” I demanded, my voice rough with frustration. He stepped closer, but not enough for me to touch him, like a cat toying with its prey.

“Get on your knees and tend to my cock, and you shall have it,” he said, his tone mocking and dripping with arrogance.

I met his gaze with a smirk of my own, leaning forward slightly. “I have standards,” I retorted, my teeth gritting in irritation. With a swift motion, I swung my hand through the bars. “So give me the water!”

Without a word, he poured it onto the stone floor, the liquid splashing with a sharp hiss that made my chest tighten. My breath caught in my throat, rage igniting as I glared at him. “You will pay for that! The king—”

“The king does not give a damn about you,” he interrupted, stepping closer, his voice low and cruel. “You will either be beheaded soon or starve to death in this wretched place. The only way you’ll survive is to do as I say. When I tell you to suck, you will.”

My body trembled with fury as I shook the bars, rattling the metal with all the strength I had left. “I am the king’s mate!” I shouted, the words burning in my throat.

The silence that followed was deafening. Then, to my surprise, laughter rang out. Not just from Vael, but from somewhere deeper within the dungeon.

“Yeah, right,” he said, shaking his head, a cruel grin twisting his lips as he walked away.

I stood still, anger bubbling beneath the surface, but there was nothing I could do. I let out a frustrated sigh and pressed my forehead against the cold iron bars, my whole body sagging with the weight of it all.

“Fuck,” I muttered bitterly.

I can’t die here. Not when there is someone waiting for me.

One way or another, I would make the king release me.

———

I lost count of the days I had spent in this cell. The laughter of the guards echoed again from wherever they played their games. My stomach growled with hunger, but I had long grown used to it, and my throat felt parched from the constant thirst. The laughter rang out again, and I pressed my eyes shut, trying to will myself to sleep.

I must have drifted off for a moment, because the next thing I heard was the soft tap of footsteps coming closer. When I turned, a woman stood on the opposite side of the bars, Vael at her side.

I scrambled to my feet, trembling with the effort, and to my shock, the door clicked open.

“Come with me,” she said, turning quickly and walking away without a single glance back. I wasn’t stupid enough to stay behind.

“Has the king decided to let me go?” I asked, my voice raw from disuse. I stumbled forward to catch up to her, but she didn’t answer.

“He must have realized I did nothing wrong,” I muttered, a smug smile tugging at my lips.

She ignored me and kept walking, her pace fast, and I had no choice but to follow. We passed several servants who quickly hurried out of the way, and my pulse quickened. We were getting deeper into the palace, and I had no idea where we were headed.

“Where are we going?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder, just in case I needed to make a run for it.

She didn’t respond.

The hallways seemed to stretch on forever until she turned, entering a much larger and quieter corridor. My heart dropped—this was the king’s section of the palace. I could feel it.

The woman pushed open a heavy door and stepped inside, and before I could react, she grabbed my wrist and slammed a red chain around it. I stumbled back, my pulse hammering in my ears.

“You’re a witch,” I hissed, backing away from her as the chain pulsed with magic.

She straightened and looked at me, her expression blank. “The king’s witch, yes,” she said, her voice calm as she stepped closer. “You cannot escape or leave the palace with that on you. Only the king has the power to free you from the magic.”

I yanked my hand, but it was useless. “So, the king doesn’t want me dead?” I asked, my voice dripping with disbelief.

The witch’s lips curled into a mocking smirk. “The king wants you dead, but if you play your cards right, you might survive.”

I blinked, trying to understand what she meant. “So, I might die after all?”

“No. If you can give the king your heart—or make him want you—you might survive,” she said, her eyes glaring at me.

I let out a harsh laugh, the sound bitter in the silence. “Give him my—make him want me?” I repeated, shaking my head. “You know the rumors. You work for the king. I’ve seen it. The king is not the kind of man who has a heart to give.” I took a step closer, my voice dropping. “Hell, the only reason I’m alive right now is because I’m his mate.”

She raised an eyebrow at me.

I let out a bitter laugh. “Or maybe not,” I added.

She didn’t respond. “Just do what I have said, and you might leave here with gold in your pockets,” she said flatly and my eyes peeked.

“Why are you helping me?” I asked, though I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer.

She turned toward the door, her back to me. “I’m not helping you. I’m helping the king—and the kingdom.”