Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Joy
Ari’s grip tightened on my arm as he dragged me back into my room, his fingers digging into the tender bruises already forming there. The scents of lavender and old stone hit my nostrils—scents that should have been comforting but now were a prison closing in around me.
Brynn stood in the center of the room, dark hair loose around her shoulders, her face drawn and weary.
She wore a threadbare servant’s dress in faded gray, the fabric worn thin from countless washings.
Her small frame was hunched with defeat, her head bowed so low I could barely see her face.
She didn’t look up when we entered, didn’t acknowledge our presence at all.
The sight of her standing there, still trapped, still suffering, made my chest constrict with anguish.
“Get her cleaned up. We leave in an hour.” Ari’s voice was crisp and businesslike, as if he were ordering a servant to polish his boots instead of condemning us both to hell.
Shitshitshitshit
The curse exploded through my mind like a prayer to a god who wasn’t listening. My hands trembled as our situation crashed down on me like a collapsing building.
Darius hadn’t taken her out of here. That thought stole what little breath I had left. Damn it! He’d promised to get her to safety. But here she stood, still trapped in this nightmare with me.
Ari closed the door with deliberate care, the soft click of the latch barely audible.
But to me, trapped in this suffocating room with my nerves stretched to their breaking point, it sounded like a thunderous boom that echoed through my bones.
The finality of that sound made my stomach drop—we were sealed in, cut off from any hope of escape.
“Brynn,” I whispered, knowing with bone-deep certainty that the walls, ceiling, and floor had ears in this cursed place. The very stones seemed to pulse with malevolent awareness, ready to carry our secrets back to the queen.
She raised her dark eyes to mine, and I could see the guilt swimming in their depths like shadows in deep water.
“Joy, I’m so sorry.” She rushed over to me, her footsteps silent on the cold stone floor.
Her gentle hands guided me to sit on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under my weight.
“There wasn’t anything I could do to get you out of the dungeon. ”
Her fingers ghosted over my back with featherlight touches, assessing the damage. Even that careful examination sent fire racing along my torn flesh. “I know it hurts,” she murmured, her breath warm against my ear.
I clasped her hand desperately, my fingers trembling as they intertwined with hers. Her skin was cool and soft, a stark contrast to the rough wounds on my palms from the chains. “Listen, don’t worry about me. You’ve got to get out of here.”
“I’ve been—”
“You’re not just a prisoner.” I cut her off, leaning closer until our foreheads almost touched. The scent of her hair—something clean and sweet like apple blossoms—filled my nostrils. “The queen’s going to find out you’re the key to the Anchoring Obsidian stone.”
Her brow furrowed in confusion, creating tiny lines across her porcelain forehead. “I don’t understand.”
“The Anchoring Obsidian stone is dying. Only royal blood can revive it. Your blood.” Each word was a nail being driven into a coffin—hers, mine, or both.
“But the queen—”
“Isn’t the rightful heir. When she finds out, she’s—”
The color drained from Brynn’s face so quickly I thought she might faint. Her hand went cold in mine, and I could feel the tremor that ran through her entire body. “Going to kill me.”
Silence. The only sounds were our ragged breathing and the distant echo of footsteps in the corridor outside.
“Yes. You’ve got to find a way to escape.”
Brynn let out a bitter laugh that held no humor, the sound sharp and hollow in the stone chamber.
“You don’t think I have tried? It’s like I can move freely through the castle, but the moment I approach any exit.
..” She shook her head, her dark hair catching the dim candlelight.
“There are invisible barriers, magical wards that turn me back before I even realize what’s happening. ”
Invisible magical wards. Of course the queen wouldn't rely on simple locks and guards. She'd built a prison you couldn't even see until it stopped you. How was I supposed to escape something I couldn't detect until it was too late?
“Do you know Darius Acosta?” I leaned forward urgently, my fingers tightening around hers.
Her eyes widened with recognition, and she glanced nervously toward the door.
“The queen’s obsession? Everyone knows about him.
” She lowered her voice to barely above a whisper.
“The servants whisper about how she watches him through that terrible mirror, how she speaks of him like he already belongs to her.”
“I helped him escape.” The admission tumbled out before I could stop it.
She gasped so loudly it sounded like a small scream, her free hand flying to cover her mouth. The color that had just returned to her cheeks drained away again. “Joy…the queen—when she finds out—”
“She already knows, and I know what she’s planning to do to me,” I cut her off. Fear turned my tongue dry, but I forced myself to continue. “But she needs me alive right now to open the portal. I’m the only one who can do it.”
“But when you do, she’ll kill you.” Tears gathered in her dark eyes like morning dew.
“Maybe. Maybe not.” I tried to sound more confident than the insecurity hiding inside me, but my pulse raced so fast I was sure she could hear it. “Listen to me, Darius promised me he’d help you get out. He was supposed to when he left me in the dungeon.”
Brynn’s shoulders sagged with defeat, and she pulled her hand from mine to wrap her arms around herself. “Even if he wanted to, I was guarded. I’m always watched. Two soldiers stood outside my quarters at all evening and through the night. They only left when Ari came to fetch me for this.”
“He may still be able to help you.” I reached for her again, needing that connection, that anchor to hope. “Darius is resourceful. If anyone can find a way to get you out of here, it’s him.”
Brynn squeezed my hand. “If he comes back here, she’ll be waiting for him.”
Guilt crashed over me. What had I just done? I'd dangled hope in front of Brynn while potentially sentencing Darius to death. The queen would capture him, torture him, or worse—turn him into another weapon. And it would be my fault for putting the idea in his head.
“Find a way, Brynn.”
She nodded. “I will. But first, I need to help you. Stay here.” Once again, she drew a bath for me and I sat on the bed, wondering if I could even lift one leg to enter the tub, let alone get out.
Weariness gripped me like cold iron chains tightening around my chest, each link growing heavier with every labored breath.
The exhaustion wasn’t just physical—it was soul-deep, sucking the hope out of me like a vampire draining its victim dry.
My shoulders sagged under an invisible weight that seemed to press down from the very air itself.
Pain finally consumed me, as if it had been crouched in the shadows, waiting patiently for me to let my guard down.
The welts on my back burned like brands against my torn dress, each movement like fire ants racing along my spine.
My swollen cheek throbbed in time with my heartbeat, a constant reminder of the queen’s rage.
Everything hurt. My wrists were bleeding from the shackles, the skin torn and tender. My ribs ached from being slammed against the stone wall, each breath a sharp reminder of the violence I’d endured. Even the simple act of sitting on the bed sent jolts of agony through my battered body.
Taking a breath was like drowning in reverse—the air thick and heavy in my lungs, as if the very atmosphere in this cursed place was trying to suffocate me. My throat was parched from screaming, and when I swallowed, it felt like grinding glass.
I closed my eyes and hot tears squeezed out from beneath my lids, trailing down my cheeks in salty streams that stung the cut on my lip.
My hands trembled in my lap, no longer from fear but from sheer physical and emotional collapse.
Every muscle in my body was giving up, surrendering to the overwhelming combination of trauma and despair.
The room spun slightly when I opened my eyes, edges blurring as my body struggled to cope with everything it had endured.
“Let me help you,” Brynn whispered as she slipped her slender arm around my waist. Her touch was gentle but firm, providing the support my battered body desperately needed. The warmth of her body against my side was a small comfort in the cold stone chamber.
I forced my trembling legs to move, trying to ignore the fiery pain. My focus narrowed to the steaming bathtub across the room—salvation in porcelain and hot water. The scent of lavender oil rose from the surface, promising relief from the agony that had become my constant companion.
Brynn’s fingers worked with infinite patience as she gently peeled away my tattered dress.
The fabric had dried to my wounds like a second skin, and I bit down hard on my lower lip as the stuck material ripped open partially healed cuts.
The tang of blood filled my mouth as I fought back a scream, my teeth grinding together with the effort of staying silent.
“Come on, let’s get you into this tub.” Her tenderness made my chest tighten with emotion.
I clung to her arm like a lifeline as I slowly raised one trembling leg, then the other, over the tub’s edge.
The first touch of warm water against my torn flesh was like liquid fire, but beneath the initial sting lay the promise of healing.
Brynn supported my weight as I slowly lowered myself into the blessed heat, the water turning pink as it met my wounds.
Steam rose around us, carrying the soothing scent of herbs that made my eyes flutter closed in relief. Brynn knelt beside the tub, gently washing my back. The warm water soothed my raw skin, carrying away blood and grime.
Tears formed in my eyes—not from pain this time, but from the overwhelming kindness Brynn showed me. The salt water threatened to spill over, but I refused to cry out, biting my lip until I tasted copper again.
“As soon as you open the portal,” Brynn said, “you must get away from the queen. Can you use your shadows to hide you?”
I held up my wrists, the metal bracelets catching the candlelight with cruel gleams. The cold iron was heavy against my bones, a constant reminder of my powerlessness. “These bind me, and I can’t get loose.” I stared at the cursed jewelry that had become my shackles.
Brynn’s dark eyes met mine, and I saw something flicker there—hope, determination, perhaps even defiance. “Maybe I can help you with that.” Her eyes gleamed with something I’d never seen from her before—power. “There are things about me the queen doesn’t know.”