Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Joy
Brynn's gentle hands clasped my trembling arm, her fingers warm and reassuring against my chilled skin. She helped me out of the bathtub with infinite care, water cascading from my body in rivulets that splashed softly onto the stone floor. My legs shook like a newborn fawn’s as I stood, my body still battered and broken, pain shooting through my torn flesh with every shift.
But beneath the pain, a fierce satisfaction burned in my chest; my shadows were at my command again.
That knowledge alone gave me the strength to keep moving.
She guided me slowly across the cold floor, my bare feet leaving wet prints on the stone as we made our way to an ornate chair positioned in front of an elaborate mirror.
The reflection that stared back at me was almost unrecognizable—hollow-eyed, gaunt, marked by violence—but alive. Still breathing. Still fighting.
"I'll put some salve on your wounds. I've used it myself many times.
" She opened a small ceramic jar with delicate hands, and immediately a fragrant, flowery scent filled the air—sweet and clean, like a meadow after spring rain.
The aroma was so pure it almost brought tears to my eyes after breathing nothing but dungeon stench for hours.
She moved behind me. I tested, waiting for more pain, but the first gentle touch of the salve against my ravaged back was a pleasant surprise.
The tension in my muscles slowly unwound and I took a deep breath.
A calmness rolled over me that I hadn’t experienced since I’d been here. Was this flower a drug?
At the moment, I didn’t care. The salve was silky and luxurious against my torn skin, immediately beginning to ease the ceaseless pulsing pain that had become my unwelcome companion. "It's quite healing," she murmured, her fingers working with practiced gentleness.
The lulling sensation was so profound I nearly sobbed with gratitude. "What's it called?"
"Syl'nareth. It grows deep in our mountains—a rare yellow flower that blooms only in the darkest places."
I closed my eyes and let the healing warmth seep into my wounds as the relentless fire in my back diminished to a manageable ache. "It really helps ease the pain."
"I know." Her response was quiet, heavy with unspoken memories. "It's always helped me through the worst times."
Her words brought me out of feeling sorry for myself. I couldn’t imagine how many times Brynn had suffered in this place. Darius had to get her out of here before it was too late. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would leave a beaten innocent behind. Or at least I hoped he wouldn’t.
She combed out my hair and then blew it dry, her touch gentle and methodical. My black hair draped over my shoulders, but when I caught my reflection in the mirror, I flinched. My cheek had turned a mottled purple, and my eye was beginning to swell shut.
“Let me put some Syl'nareth on your face.” Her voice was soft, almost apologetic, as if the bruises were somehow her fault.
I closed my eyes as she dabbed the salve on, the coolness soothing against my throbbing skin. The tension in my shoulders eased slightly.
“It should stop the swelling.” She capped the jar and set it aside with a quiet clink. “I’ll get your dress.”
I looked at it with dread. White. Sacrificial.
While she got it, I put lotion on my battered body.
Bruises spotted my legs and arms, but nothing was as torn up as my poor wrists.
The skin was raw and abraded where the silver cuffs had bitten in, angry red welts circling each wrist like gruesome bracelets.
In some places, the flesh had split, leaving behind crusted blood and exposed tissue that stung with every movement.
Enzo. My chest tightened at the thought of his handsome face, his strong arms, the fierce way he'd always tried to protect me.
He had to be alive.
What would Enzo do when he saw me? The question made my chest ache.
He'd lose his mind. Rage. Demand blood. And the twisted part?
I wanted that. Needed someone to see what they'd done to me and actually give a damn.
I looked like I'd gone three rounds with a prize fighter and lost, and I was so tired of being Ari and the queen’s punching bag.
“Time to get dressed. I think Ari will be here soon.”
I looked at the dreaded gown I wanted to rip to shreds. But if I did, knowing Ari, he’d make me walk out naked.
She slipped the gown over my head, and unfortunately, it fit me perfectly. It made me feel dirty. But then Ari had posed as Maximo Barone who was a human trafficker.
I wasn't sure how long he'd posed as Maximo, but I had a feeling it had been a while. Ari had been planning this—all of it—for god knows how long.
There was a knock on the door and every muscle in my body tensed. This was it.
“Is she ready?”
Brynn hurried over to the door to let Ari inside. He cast his gaze over me. My stomach churned, and I had to fight the urge to shrink back against the wall. I wouldn’t give Ari the satisfaction.
“Good. The queen’s army is ready.” His eyes shone with victory. “Soon the Dark Demons will be in power again.”
I forced my arms to stay at my sides, even though every inch wanted to wipe that smirk off his handsome face.
He gestured with his arm. “This way, slave.”
I narrowed my eyes into dangerous slits, letting my defiance flow through me as I stared at him.
Every muscle in my body screamed to lash out, to make him pay for every humiliation, but I clamped down on that fury with iron will.
He wanted a reaction—some sign that he'd broken me, that he still held power over my emotions.
It was a reaction I refused to give him, no matter how much my hands itched to wrap around his throat.
Brynn kept her eyes downcast, her dark lashes casting shadows on her pale cheeks as she clasped her palms behind her back.
The bandage around her cut hand was hidden from view.
I prayed desperately that Ari wouldn't notice anything amiss.
One wrong glance, one suspicious movement, and our fragile plan would crumble to ash.
I lifted my chin with deliberate arrogance and walked past him toward the door, my bare feet silent on the cold stone.
The white dress flowed around me like liquid silk, making me appear every inch the innocent sacrifice they believed me to be.
But Ari's footsteps echoed behind me with predatory intent, and suddenly his iron grip clamped around my arm like a shackle.
His fingers dug into my flesh with bruising force, and I could smell his cologne, tainted with the underlying scent of cruelty.
"Don't ever turn your back on me, girl." His breath was hot against my ear, carrying a promise of violence that made my skin crawl.
Once again, I bit my tongue until I tasted copper and didn't say a word.
The silence stretched between us like a taut wire as he escorted me down the hallway, his grip never loosening.
The corridor was usually bustling with activity, but now it felt eerily empty—just the echo of our footsteps and the distant flicker of torchlight casting dancing shadows on the stone walls.
There were minimal guards stationed at their posts, and only a handful of servants scurried past with averted eyes.
The emptiness made my skin prickle with unease.
Where had everyone gone?
But when Ari crossed the threshold to the outside courtyard, dragging me with him into the cool night air, I gasped. The sound escaped my lips before I could stop it, hissing with shock and terror.
It was an ocean of Unseelie soldiers stretching as far as the eye could see.
Hundreds—maybe thousands—of warriors in gleaming plate armor filled every inch of the courtyard, their faces turned toward us with hungry anticipation.
The metallic ring of swords at their sides and the soft whisper of leather and chainmail filled the air, while military banners bearing the royal crest snapped in the night breeze like the wings of carrion birds.
Moonlight caught on the edges of countless blades—longswords, rapiers, and curved sabers that promised swift death to anyone who stood in their way.
The soldiers stood in perfect formation, their armor polished to mirror brightness despite the darkness.
Along the raised balconies and terraces surrounding the courtyard, the Unseelie nobility had gathered to witness the historic moment.
They wore rich velvets and brocades in deep purples and midnight blues, their pale faces marked with the otherworldly beauty and cold cruelty of the fae courts.
Some raised jeweled goblets in silent toasts, others leaned forward with eager expressions, all of them watching with the detached fascination of spectators at a gladiatorial event.
I wanted to scream at the nobility. The cold, heartless Unseelie gentry that showed no mercy here and would not even think of what would happen to the people and supernaturals in my world.
This wasn't just an army—it was an invasion force of seasoned warriors, and they were all waiting for me to open the portal that would unleash them upon my world while their nobility cheered them on from the safety of their balconies.
As soon as I opened the portal, Ari or the queen would kill me. My only chance was that they didn't realize I could slip my fingers free of the bracelets long enough to summon my shadows and cause chaos.
Maybe if I opened it, I could use my shadows to blind the soldiers, giving whoever was still alive on the other side—Enzo, Angelo, Dimitri, anyone—a fighting chance to close the portal before the army crossed through.
It was a desperate plan built on hope and blind faith that someone had survived and would be there to act.
And it was worth dying for.