57. Aurelia
Chapter 57
Aurelia
M y hands tremble at dinner that night, alone in my allocated room. It’s bare, with a regular, single bed with a white lacy duvet and cotton sheets. There are no windows, and the door is made of metal. I feel cold as I sit at the small table. It too is steel and bolted to the ground.
It feels more like a prison here than it did at Drakos Estate. I try to assess my options, but my mind is fuzzy like soft drink shaken up in a can. It almost feels like someone else is captive in this cell. Like someone else feels cold inside and numb on the outside.
The only upside is that, despite tasting like ash in my mouth, the food is well made. A classic roast chicken and potatoes and a fresh side salad of cucumbers and rocket. I have orange juice and some pills that smell like vitamins. She’s not going to kill me by starving me, at least.
Sometime in the evening, the lights go off and I get the message that I need to sleep. I use the bathroom in the dark and climb into bed, huddling under the bleached sheets.
I can’t bear to close my eyes. I want them to stay open. I want to be alert when she comes for me. I need to think of a way out of this.
Kicking myself that I didn’t try to think of escape sooner, I recount the events of the day, thinking of the number of times I could have shifted and flown away. But flight would have been impossible. Here, there are beasts with guns in every room and I’d been escorted everywhere with gun-toting animuses. They’re a whole different sort of threat that needs careful consideration. It only takes one person with good aim to catch me in the wing and send me down.
Dread, hard and dense sitting in my gut, doesn’t allow me to sleep at all.
The next morning, she makes me wait.
I’m not given any food through the slot in the door, and straining my ears reveals nothing on the other side.
Hours tick by and I pace the length of the room to keep busy. I’ve been in isolation before, so I’m familiar with this. But Solomon and the other scientists had never said openly cruel things to me. Had never threatened me so thoroughly.
And something about the Collector tells me she’s not one for empty threats. She has a plan, and she’s going to execute it.
By what I estimate is the evening time, the lock at the door jangles open. I stand to attention, my heart pounding as she saunters through the door.
I wonder if I should attack her now and get it done with. Launch myself at her and—but no less than six guards enter the room immediately after her, surrounding us both with their weapons drawn.
“Don’t bother,” she says carefully, examining me from top to toe. “They’d make it hurt.”
I can only blink at her, my coiled muscles needing to be told to soften. The scent of the males crowds me in, filling my head and making me dizzy. I huff to hide my anxiety. “So what’s the plan for today?”
She shows me her teeth. Today she wears a yellow lace dress that ties at the breast. It’s oddly cheery for her. I’m still wearing my black dress from the estate. It needs to be washed, but she hasn’t given me anything else and I refuse to ask.
“I want to show you something.”
Oh, there’s more to see. “Great,” I say stiffly.
She throws me a knowing smile before I’m escorted out of the room and down a corridor, deeper into the house. The cell is on ground level, and I’m not surprised when she leads me to an elevator that descends several floors.
As I stand there, surrounded by metal and guards, listening to the mechanical whirr, I’m reminded of Halfeather mansion and another dungeon that was kept underground.
I’d met my mates in such a dungeon; I shouldn’t be afraid.
Except, a voice reminds me, your mates are monsters of their own kind. Monsters are kept in dungeons.
The Collector is mysteriously excited as the elevator comes to a stop and pings. They slide open to reveal a brightly lit corridor of all white, with a row of steel doors. Apparently, the dark isn’t her style. She leads us out, her energy positively giddy, her gait near bouncy, and I wonder what on earth could have a bloodthirsty person like her so damn excited.
We come to a stop by a door and one of the guards unlocks it with a heavy set of keys.
“Do not fear,” the Collector reassures me, a little breathless, her pupils dilated. “He’s not the violent sort.”
It swings open, revealing a complete darkness. But the soldiers take no heed and march right in, sweeping me along with them.
When the door closes behind us, we’re entombed in the dark. My heart pounds in my ears as I strain to see what type of monster of pride and joy she keeps here.
A warm glow expands from a dimmer. It’s a small globe set in the corner as an afterthought, but its light reveals something I never, not in my wildest dreams, expected.
The beast lies on his side, amongst strewn hay, motionless, bereft, his hooves bent to the side. A pelt of silver glimmers under the meagre light. A long, powerful horn extends from his forehead. It has its own glow, dimmed, I think, from?—
I can’t breathe. I can’t blink. I can’t tear my eyes away from the horror I see before me. This creature of light and beauty… Someone had hurt it.
On its rump is a blackened mark, circular, festering with necrosis.
The Collector sighs wistfully.
“You have a unicorn.” My voice sounds far away. “You keep him in the dark.”
“You can make many Boneweavers, Aurelia,” she replies in a dreamy voice. “But this is a male. He cannot make more of himself.”
She turns to regard me and my response. I tear my eyes away to meet her gaze in grave disbelief.
“He’s not been forthcoming about what his order’s powers are,” she continues. “As you can see, I cannot risk trying to convince him. That wound hasn’t healed, which leads me to believe he’s ill. You will need to heal it. You’ve healed mythical creatures before.”
She means a particular basilisk, who’d also lain in a dark dungeon all alone.
“He needs to see the moon. The sun. That’s why he is ill!” That mockery of light in the corner is hardly a replacement.
But the demon before me is shaking her head. “I cannot allow it. With great difficulty, I claimed him. I will not risk discovery.”
My mouth twists in utter contempt. Selfish creature of the gutter.
“Don’t you see it, Aurelia?” she presses. “Who wouldn’t want the seed of a unicorn? The most majestic creature in existence. It would be an honour to carry his offspring. You would be greatly honoured.”
Except nausea is twisting in my stomach, along with an insidious feeling that extends its wings in protest. I look back at the unicorn. “Of course I’ll try to help him,” I say softly. “May I go forward?”
“You may not touch him,” she says sharply.
I flinch at the sudden change in tone.
“I know what you can do. You may not touch him. You may heal him from a distance. Go and stand there.” She points to a spot next to a guard on the unicorn’s other side.
I have every desire to destroy the person who did this.
“What made the wound?” I ask between gritted teeth.
The Collector hovers near me before crossing her arms. “A cattle prod.”
My eyes near boggle out of their sockets in morbid disbelief. “You didn’t!”
“Do as you are told or I will have you shot in the leg.”
I huff in disgust before crouching down to look at his face better. His eyes are closed, long silver lashes sweeping downward. I wonder what colour his eyes are. His mane reminds me of Scythe, and my heart pangs for a moment before I realise the strands of hair emit their own gentle glow.
I shake my head. Magnificent.
“Who are you?”
I inhale sharply from the shock. His voice is like a moonbeam on an open field. It’s somehow dark and light at the same time. “My name is Aurelia.”
“You are like me.”
I want to smile at the joke of that. “I could never be.”
“I’ve never met a humble Boneweaver.” Dry amusement marks his tone.
My body freezes as his words hit home. I’m almost terrified to ask. “ You’ve met other Boneweavers?”
His eyes blink open. The Collector gasps.
It’s irises of the lightest purple that greet me. Appraise me. Like lavender under the sun. “Many of them,” he says. “ Are there none left here?”
My throat is suddenly tight. “I don’t think so. I’m alone. But…what do you mean by ‘here’ exactly?”
He blinks at me, and for a moment, he seems infinitely sad. “Unicorns travel between worlds, Aurelia. But promise me you’ll not tell her that.”
My heart pounds and I place a hand over it. “I will take it to my grave.”
“What is he saying?” The Collector asks with a voice like a knife. “He’s speaking to you, I know it!”
I cast her an annoyed look and find her expression full of jealousy. “He’s saying it hurts. He’s saying he needs the moon and an open field.”
She waves her hand, irritated. The roo next to me moves, and suddenly, the end of a gun is pressed against my shoulder.
I close my eyes in dismay before sending my power out, lingering at the edges of this magnificent creature. “May I?” I ask out loud. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”
He blinks once with certainty and I allow my lips a ghost of a smile before I push my power towards that awful wound. My avian power practically rushes at it, eager to help, eager to please. The tissue above has to be sheared off to allow the newer flesh beneath to proliferate. My power sloughs at the rotten skin, urging it to leave, urging white blood cells to pool over the bacteria. It hurts him, I know it does, but the creature doesn’t move as he closes his eyes once again.
His scent is mild, as if all his power has retracted into himself to preserve his strength. But his scent is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. It’s wild and powerful, like a thousand horses galloping over a plain, but also sweet and sensual, like a lover’s caress. It would have been enough to enamour me, was I not already fated to be regina to five others. No wonder The Collector is besotted and obsessed worse than any dragon in a treasure haze.
Sweat trickles down my spine, and I waver on the spot a little as my power funnels itself into him. His body seems to gobble it up, a never-ending stream of hunger. Frowning, I withdraw, glancing at my captor.
“I’ll need to come back. The wound is deep.”
She nods curtly from where she watches me, before turning on her heel and leading the way out.
I rise to my feet, casting another sad glance at him.
“Lorian,” he says softly. “Let everyone know that my name was Lorian.”
I turn to stare at him. He thinks he’ll die here. He thinks this is the end of him, and perhaps it is.
Something rises up out of the abyss at the centre of me. Something massive. Something heavy and hard, made of fire and claws and a roar that could shake mountains.
With a push of a gun into my spine, I follow The Collector out of the cell, back into the cold white lights of the corridor.
Only when the door is closed do I turn to her. Slowly, and with great purpose, I take a single step towards her. Guns swivel towards my body, too many to count. I no longer care.
“I want you to know something,” I hiss, my eyes filling with tears of rage, but I don’t blink, fixing my gaze on the crocodile with terrible, violent focus. My voice trembles, but not with fear. “I will not break. Not here. Not ever. Torture me, rape me, leave me to be forgotten in the dark, but know that I will never, not in this life, nor in any other. Break. For. You.”
She’s silent as she marks me, her eyes also unblinking, her focus pinpoint. I know she realises I’m right. Perhaps she expected it from the last fucking Boneweaver. Perhaps she thinks she’ll enjoy the challenge.
Something changes in her eyes then. Some decision made.
“Very well, Aurelia.” Her voice holds a note of quiet resignation. “Very well.”