His wings, once a beautiful shade of glowing silver, now bloodied and missing half their precious feathers, twitched where they were pinned to the wall behind him, and a low, pained moan fell from his lips. Hand-carved, eight inch long steel nails, infused with his mate’s blood and coated in hemlock had been driven through the delicate flesh weeks ago – it had been a long, painful, trial and error to see what could contain the powerful limbs; could weaken them to the point they would remain strung up against the frigid stone.