Chapter 18
Chapter
Eighteen
Thorn
I jolted awake, my head throbbing and the taste of blood in my mouth. The cold stone floor pressed against my cheek as I blinked, trying to orient myself in the dim light of my cell. Alone. What had happened to Senara?
We’d been imprisoned separately, men with the other male elves and I assumed her with the female elves, but then I saw her, didn’t I?
The memories crashed over me like a tidal wave, each one more horrifying than the last. Her screams echoing down the hallway as they dragged me towards her. The dread building with each step, knowing what awaited us both.
"No," I croaked, struggling to sit up. My muscles protested, reminding me of the beating I'd taken. "Senara..."
I could still see her, strapped to that table, her beautiful face contorted in agony. The fancy fuck’s words rang in my ears, like bells tolling Senara’s doom.
Perhaps we should let the guards have their way with her. I'm sure they'd enjoy breaking such a defiant beauty. She’s already practically naked, what harm could it do to let them touch her?
Break.
Naked.
Touch.
The words repeated over and over again in my mind as the other interrogator, the old, withered looking one, pulled another one of her fingernails off.
My hands clenched into fists, nails biting into my palms as I tried to bring myself back to the present. The rage that had exploded within me at those words still simmered beneath the surface. I'd lunged at the bastards, magic cuffs be damned. And paid the price for it.
"Damn it all," I growled, slamming my fists against the floor. The pain helped clear my head, but did nothing to ease the ache in my chest. I'd failed her. Failed to protect her, to save her from their cruelty.
What had they done to her after I'd been beaten unconscious? The possibilities made me sick to my stomach. I needed to find her, to make sure she was alright if that was even possible after what they had done to her.
But how?
I was trapped in this accursed cell, my magic bound by these annoying cuffs and my body battered.
I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breathing. Panic wouldn't help either of us. I had to stay calm, to think. There had to be a way out of this. I'd promised Senara I'd keep her safe, and by all the gods, I intended to keep that promise. I just had no idea how.
Another floor punch helped me keep the spiral of panic in check when it threatened to take over again. One wasn’t enough though so I hit the floor again and again until my knuckles turned bloody and my hands ached.
A shuffling sound drew me from my thoughts, making me paused mid floor strike. My eyes snapped in the direction of the sound, scanning the dim cell. There, in the corner, something moved.
I froze, hardly daring to breathe. It was the box—that same damned box I'd searched a dozen times over. Empty, save for a few scraps of rotting cloth. Yet now it shifted, ever so slightly.
"What in the hells?" I muttered, pushing myself up despite protesting muscles.
I'd combed every inch of this cell when they first threw me in here, desperate to find some way out, some way to prove to Senara that her faith in me wasn't misplaced. But there had been nothing. No cracks in the walls, no loose stones, no forgotten tools. Just four unyielding walls and that useless box.
I crept closer, my heart pounding. There were no vermin in this place—I hadn't seen so much as a spider in all my time here. So what was moving?
"Show yourself," I growled, trying to sound more confident than I felt. Without my magic and with my hands bound, I was painfully vulnerable. But I'd be damned if I'd let whatever this was catch me off guard.
Something shifted again, more deliberately this time. I tensed, ready to defend myself if necessary. But nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.
The box suddenly slid to the side, revealing a hidden opening in the wall behind it. My jaw dropped as a young male elf, no more than twenty years old, emerged from the concealed tunnel. He moved with a fluid, confident grace that was a stark contrast to what one would expect given our surroundings, crawling out and standing up in one smooth motion.
"By the gods," I breathed, taking an involuntary step back. "Am I hallucinating?"
The boy—no, young man—brushed off his clothes and turned to face me. His eyes were bright and alert the opposite of the defeated looks I'd grown accustomed to seeing in this hellhole. He nodded at me, almost in greeting, but there was something of relief in his gaze as well.
As I watched, dumbfounded, he reached behind him and pushed the box back into place. The wall sealed seamlessly, as if it had never been disturbed.
"You're not hallucinating," he said, his voice low but clear though he kept his volume down. "Though I can understand why you might think so. I’m just glad you’re finally awake so I could get out of that crawl space."
I shook my head, trying to clear it. "Who are you? How did you?—"
But my words trailed off as I took in his appearance.
The young man's outfit was a dull gray, the standard shade for prisoners. It consisted of the same thing I had been given to wear, a sleeveless tunic of sorts with knee length trousers underneath in a matching color, the belt that the other man wore was the only difference between the two at a glance. Unless you looked closer.
His tunic, trousers, and belt were all immaculately clean, without a speck of dirt or tear in sight. The fabric looked almost new, with no fraying edges or fading color. It seemed almost too perfect, like a costume from a play rather than prison attire. It didn’t help that there was a faint scent of lavender and citrus coming from the young man's clothing, a smell that shouldn't exist in this musty, dank prison.
As though his clothing wasn’t enough, the honey-brown hair that fell in a straight ponytail down his back was entirely tangle free and much too clean. Not to mention the lack of dirt on his face other than a single smudge that looked like it had been placed there on purpose.
"This can't be real," I muttered, rubbing my eyes. "I must have hit my head harder than I thought."
The young elf tilted his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I assure you, I'm quite real. And I believe we have much to discuss, Thorn." His eyes were the color of spring grass and danced with the eagerness of youth. A second later the young elf straightened, his demeanor shifting to something more formal. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Young Lord Echo, son of the High Lord and heir to the throne."
My jaw clenched involuntarily. The High Lord's son? Here? I eyed him warily, every instinct on high alert.
"I've come to speak with you about the blight and the corrupted fae," Echo continued, his voice steady.
"Why?" I asked, my tone harsher than I'd intended. "Come to gloat about your father's handiwork?"
Echo's expression shuttered slightly. "No, quite the opposite. I...I don't agree with my father's methods or his goals. My viewpoint differs significantly from his."
I scoffed. "Right. And I'm supposed to believe that?"
"I understand your skepticism," Echo said, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "I wouldn't trust me either, in your position."
"Smart kid," I muttered.
Echo's lips quirked in a half-smile. "Not a kid, actually. But I take your point." His hand moved to his waist, and I tensed, ready for anything.
Or so I thought.
In one fluid motion, Echo drew a dagger from his belt. My heart rate spiked, but before I could react, he flipped it in the air, caught it by the blade, and held it out to me, handle first.
"What's this?" I asked, not moving to take it.
"A gesture of good faith," Echo replied. "Before you ask, the dagger is enchanted. It can't harm me, but you can use it against anyone else."
A key dangling from a cord on the hilt glinted in the low light. Not daring to voice my hope I raised an eyebrow at him in question.
Echo nodded. "The key to your cuffs, yes."
My mind raced. This had to be a trap, right? "Why?" I demanded. "Why would you do this?"
"Because I want you to trust me," Echo said simply. "I want us to talk, openly and honestly. I truly don't agree with my father's course of action, Thorn. I believe there's a better way, and I think you might be the key to finding it."
I hesitated, my gaze flicking between the dagger and Echo's earnest face. Every instinct screamed that this was too good to be true, but what choice did I have? If there was even a chance this could help me get Senara out of here...
With a deep breath, I reached out and took the dagger. "Alright, kid. I'm listening. But don't think for a second that I trust you yet, and don’t think I’m going to leave these cuffs on out of respect or something like that.”
Echo nodded, a look of relief crossing his features. "That's fair. Please remove the cuffs whenever you wish.”
He was a strange one, putting so much trust in a stranger from what had to be an even stranger land to him given how young he was. “You realize that I could roast you alive as soon as I take them off, yes?”
“Yes, but you won’t. It wouldn’t do you any good. You certainly couldn’t get to your companion with my corpse in your cell. As soon as I was discovered the entire city would go on lockdown and since you have no idea how to escape you would be trapped. I have actually thought this through, you know,” he chastised me slightly.
I grunted at him, let him take the sound however he wished.
“Shall we sit? We have much to discuss."
“You want to sit here?” I asked, incredulous that the heir to the elven throne would sit on the floor of a prison cell.
He sat before I could question him any further. Most fae nobles wouldn’t touch the ground in a place like this if they could help it. Yet, here was the elven heir, sitting on the floor with his back resting against two of the bars of the cell. He was not what I expected, especially after meeting his father.
As I moved to the opposite side of the cell and sat, leaning back against the wall. Before anything else happened I slid the key into the lock of the cuffs. It was awkward given the angle, but I got it done. As soon as the latch was open my magic seemed to rush back into my body. I knew the suppression was gone because my sun mark glowed once more, lighting the dingy space with a soft orange glow.
Finally, I looked up at the young elf once more and when I saw his satisfied smile, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was walking on a knife's edge. But for Senara's sake, I had to try. I just hoped I wasn't making the biggest mistake of my life. Of both our lives.