Chapter 7 Auria
It did not feel welcoming, no matter what Bylur said. But I didn’t say that out loud. It didn’t seem very polite.
“You will need to go in by yourself,” Bylur rumbled. “I am trying to organize a ruling body for our kingdom with the noble families. There are many fae lords and ladies in the palace who do not know about my condition. Most of my own people do not know either.”
I slid off his back. “So you’ve been hiding during the day for a month? And then coming out at night and meeting with nobles?”
He sighed, and the unconquerable bear actually looked tired for a moment.
“Yes. But my steward, Parcival, does know. He will meet you at the door. He meets everyone. You can tell him we are married, and he is to take you to my rooms. Nobody should bother you there. I will shift out here, confirm what you told Parcival, deal with the fae nobles, and then join you. You… do not need to wait up for me. I won’t touch you when I lay down. ”
I shook my head. I was married to a husband I couldn’t look at for a year. How was this my life?
But I’d promised him I’d break his curse. And I would do that. And in the meantime, I had a whole palace to live in.
“So,” I summarized, “go in. Meet Parcival. Go to bed.”
He rumbled a low growl that I recognized as a sign of displeasure more than an angry growl.
“What?” I asked.
“I do not want you to feel confined to the bedroom,” he rumbled, “but I think at night it would be best so you do not accidentally see me.”
I patted his leg. “Don’t worry. We can sort out more details tomorrow. I’m pretty tired tonight anyway.”
“Go then,” he said, “before I shift.”
Right.
I marched toward the gate, but then paused.
I should have asked him how fae felt about humans.
Were they biased like elves? Or birds! Was his temptation to smash Rat typical or was he just annoyed earlier?
I clenched my skirts and tipped my head up to the sky.
Stars had appeared in the darkest parts of the night. Stars! I didn’t dare turn around now.
I gripped my skirts tighter. “No fear, Rat.”
“No fear,” he repeated back. I reached in a pocket, gave him a sunflower seed, and marched toward the gate.
No fear. This was Bylur’s home, and I was married to him. Married! If he was the lord of this castle, what did that make me? Something fancier than “thief” and “scurrymaid.” I slowed my march but didn’t stop until I was close enough to touch the soldier blocking the gate.
He was huge. More than a head taller than me and full of muscles that could toss me over the gate as easily as a bag of sugar. But if he was Bylur’s guard, that meant that he was my guard now. He just didn’t know it.
I squared my shoulders, lifted my chin, and pinched my ring. “I have an important message for Parcival from Lord Bylur.”
The soldier looked down his nose at me. “Lord Bylur is not in the habit of sending human messengers.”
I plopped my hands on my hips. “Are you normally in the habit of questioning his instructions?”
He rubbed the pommel of his sword with his thumb. “No. But as the captain of his guard, I am constantly watching for intruders and spies. I think he’ll understand if I detain his messenger until he can confirm her identity, especially considering the number of visitors we have here lately.”
My jaw fell as he nodded to the soldier next to him—also ridiculously tall and muscled—who wrapped a hand around my bicep. “What are you doing?” I stammered out.
The soldier smirked, a cocky grin on his too-pretty face. I memorized the set of his jaw, his dark eyes, and black hair. I would learn his name as soon as I could. I needed to learn all their names—
“We’re taking you to a nice, safe place to wait for Lord Bylur to confirm your identity,” Smirky said.
Rat flew into the air and squawked out his warning cry. Not good. Not good at all.
I tugged away from the smirking fae, but he gripped my arm tighter.
I’d be able to outrun a wolf before I broke away from his grip.
“I need to speak to Parcival,” I ground out.
“Leave me here and go get him if you must, but you will regret hurting me.” I hoped.
Would Bylur side with me over his soldiers?
He’d already done more for me than anyone else in the last fourteen years, but—
The fae squeezed tighter and my fingers tingled as he cut off the blood flow in my arm. “We know humans can lie. If you tell me which fae paid you to infiltrate our castle and what they are planning, I might resist using more painful ways to get you to talk.”
Horror flooded my body. If he hadn’t had a grip on my arm, I might have lost my balance.
They thought I was part of some… conspiracy?
Bylur had said he was trying to organize some kind of ruling body, so maybe they were extra cautious, but he hadn’t said they’d suspect me of trying to undermine him!
And what kind of torture did he think would make me confess something that hadn’t happened? My heart pounded as memories of the elves pouring pain into me magically pounded against my head. Would they do something similar? Or would it be more violent?
I shook my head. It wouldn’t happen. Bylur would keep me safe. He was just outside the gate. He would know the plan wasn’t working. But—
Bylur was probably shifting into a fae right now.
If he came to rescue me, then I would see his face, and he would belong to the nasty queen.
I needed Parcival. He was the only one who would believe that I was Bylur’s wife because he actually knew that Bylur needed a wife to break his curse.
My head spun. I couldn’t explain anything to these soldiers because they’d think I was lying.
Breaking a curse was suddenly much more difficult than I’d planned.
Smirky Fae shook my arm. “Well? Who sent you?”
“Nobody!” I needed to focus. I never had trouble coming up with something to say, I just needed to stop panicking. “I told you, Bylur sent me—”
He shook me again, harder. “Lord Bylur will not give you so many chances to confess as we are.” I shuddered. Bylur had only been kind to me, but if he ruled these soldiers, there must be a darker side to him—
Smirky Fae tugged me through the gate. “You can walk, or I can drag you.” He paused and smirked again. A nasty, fake smile. “I’d suggest walking. I’ve heard humans are fragile. I’d hate to accidently break you before we get to the prison.”
Prison?
I lunged away from him, trying to wrench my arm out of his grip, but he pulled me forward just as violently. I cried out, stumbling and losing my footing. I didn’t hit the ground, though, because Smirky kept walking and dragged me with him.
My feet fumbled, trying to find the ground under them while he bruised my arm with his grip. We crossed a courtyard, and I finally landed my boots on the cobblestone. I had to nearly run to keep up with Smirky. We passed the castle’s main entrance and headed toward a side path.
I screamed as loud as I could. “Parcival! Parciv—”
Smirky cut me off with a vise-like grip around my throat. “Interupt the peace of our palace like that, and I’ll make sure you never speak again.” He pressed his thumb harder against my skin. “It will be hard to confess your crimes if your windpipe is broken.”
He eased up on my throat, and I took in a gasping breath before he hauled my arm forward again. I didn’t fight this time. I rushed to keep up with him. I didn’t want to encourage him to break my windpipe or arm or anything else while I figured out what to do.
He half-dragged me to a tower set on the side of the main palace, and then down a set of spiraling stairs that darkened with every step. The deepening darkness stole my logical thought and made my throat seize up. My worst nightmares were happening again.
Stairs. So many stairs. Over and over and over.
When the stairs ended, I lost track of where we walked. I only knew that we kept moving. And I couldn’t see. But moving blind was better than a broken windpipe. I pressed my thumb into my ring, digging its edge against my skin. No fear.
Finally we turned a corner and a small flame burst to life on a torch in a sconce on the wall.
My throat eased a tiny bit at the light, but every other muscle in my body clenched.
We were underground, in a small room, with chains and shackles hanging from the ceiling.
Dirt and stone made up the walls and, from the other side of the wall, a miserable groan permeated the air.
This was a place to be tortured.
“I am not a spy,” I wheezed. “I know Bylur. He wants—”
Smirky Soldier smacked my face with the back of his hand. “Your last warning,” he snarled. “Use his name without proper respect again, and you will bleed.”
My cheek stung as he wrenched my arms above my head and snapped metal cuffs around my wrists. “This is a mistake,” I tried again.
“Yes, your mistake.” The soldier pulled a knife off his waist and pried the tip of it through my collar until the cool metal touched my skin.
“We’re obviously going to report you to Lord Bylur.
But I can guarantee he will be in a better mood about the news if we tell him exactly why you’re here and who you’re working for.
He might even choose to release you and take his anger out on the fae traitor.
But if he has to come down here and get the information out of you himself—”
He wiggled the blade against my skin. “You’ll be much more miserable. If you survive.”
I shook my head. “I’ll take that risk. I’d much rather talk to Lord Bylur, please.”
He cackled. “So polite. I’m afraid it won’t help. We’ve dealt with enough attempts at—”
A door slammed far above us, cutting him off. It wasn’t close, but it was so loud that it shook bits of dirt off the ceiling, and then an inky black shadow rolled across the floor. Tendrils of it flowed toward us and touched our feet, like darkness with a mind of its own.
A sentient darkness? This was worse than the elves.
My knees almost gave out, but I forced them to stand because Smirky still had a sword touching me.
His nasty smile appeared again. “Looks like it’s too late.”
What?
My heart pounded as a terrible thumping thundered around us. Maybe someone else on the stairs?
In less than a second, the curling shadows snaked around my waist and the soldier’s arm, but then it stopped at his sword.
The thundering steps on the stairs kept shaking the room, but the shadow—
The shadow tightened around Smirky and wrenched him away from me. As he hit the floor, a slow, dark voice filled the prison. “Do. Not. Touch. My. Wife.”