"Are you sure about this?"
Faine had heard the question five times in the last hour, appreciating the warmth and concern within for what it was. She hummed her response for the final time as she and Leighton approached a dark, lengthy hallway.
"I am," she replied, fidgeting slightly.
Despite her conviction, Faine knew the very air within this place could suffocate the faint of heart.
Offering a small, reassuring smile, she turned her gaze to Leighton. After a few weeks of rest and retraining his body, the color and definition had returned to his features. He'd been restless the last several days, anxiously awaiting their arrival at the High Court and what that meant.
Even with the pensive look on his face, Faine wanted to shuffle her hand through his dark brown hair.
Those amber eyes flickered to hers, amusement dancing inside them. He raised an eyebrow at her, a teasing gesture in the midst of her latest choice.
Leighton had kept a firm, reassuring hand on the small of her back until they reached the outskirts of a pair of large steel doors. Slowly, he bent down and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her brow.
His lips were soft and tender, offering her much needed reassurance.
"I'll be waiting outside if you need anything," he said, taking his stance outside the vaulted doors.
Faine steadied herself with a deep breath, relaxing. Her palm activated a pressurized plate, scanning her into the warded building. She could hear all sorts of things within, but the scratching of nails along the metal bars sent chills down her spine.
She walked toward the back, briskly skipping over the other cells until she stood in front of her target.
Inside, a man with salt and pepper hair lay slumped over, laughing quietly until Faine entered. His smirk never faltered.
A familiar ice coated her veins.
"Now," Faine said to the madman. "You're going to tell me everything."