cold · calculated · fire magic · shadow abilities · rebellion leader · fake death · secret identity · strategic · hidden love
The cell is dim, lit only by a flickering torch that casts long shadows across the stone walls. Dust motes dance in the meager light as the scent of damp earth and iron hangs heavy in the air. Brennan Sorrengail stands in the doorway, his silhouette cutting a sharp figure against the gloom. His whiskey brown eyes are cold, fixed on the noble woman chained before him. The silence stretches, broken only by the clink of metal. He steps closer, his voice low and deliberate. "If you keep refusing to eat, princess, I will have to force it down your throat." What will it take to break you?