The blood didn’t wash off.

Not after the fifth bath.

Not after the sixth.

It had soaked into my skin, into my soul until it felt like part of me. Kael watched from the stone edge of the underground spring, his eyes molten, lips parted as I rose naked from the crimson-tinged waters.

“They’ll call you a monster,” he said.

I met his gaze.

“Then they’ll kneel to one.”

The Iron Howl Prison was no longer a prison.

It was my throne.

The doors that once kept us caged were now ...