Chapter 15
Rawk’s foot sticks out from beneath a pile of used grain sacks that were brought down to the dungeon in the early hours of the morning. The guard huffed something about this not being a storage facility, glanced at us, then added, “Not that kind, anyway.”
But the one transporting the used sacks simply shrugged and insisted.
Eventually, after a standoff in which they just stared at one another for several long minutes, the guard huffed that they could be dumped in the corner. The one carrying the sacks shuffled over, looked down at Rawk’s greying body and snapped, “What are you doing with this guy?”
“Don’t know,” the guard shrugged. “Maybe he’ll go to recycling with the sacks.”
The sack-carrier laughed, the shared joke at Rawk’s lifeless expense breaking the tension between them. Then he ditched them on top of Rawk’s body, shook the guard’s hand, agreed to meet for a game of dice later, and left.
I feel the need to move the sacks from his face or to hide his feet, so he is either completely buried or free to breathe. I know he can’t breathe. I know he’ll never breathe again, but it feels unbelievable to me that someone so full of life – and arrogance – a few days ago is now gone. Extinguished.
“You could have been an elder before him, you know.” Maura nudges my elbow. She has followed my line of sight and is staring at Rawk’s feet too.
“I don’t think I’d ever have been an elder, Maura, even if I had kept my magic.” As I speak, my wings flutter involuntarily.
Turning her grey eyes on me, Maura sighs heavily. “You were born to be an elder, Kayan. I knew it from the moment I saw you.” Her lips twitch into a smile. “I delivered you, you know.”
“I do know,” I reply warmly.
She reaches for my hand and squeezes it. The motion causes her chains to grate and she sighs heavily. “I am sorry she took away your chance.”
She is talking about Alana. While others in the village have grown to tolerate her over the years, Maura has actively campaigned for Alana’s expulsion from the Leafborne many times. Empathy is not an elemental ability. She should not have been amongst us in the first place, was her most commonly used argument.
But despite everything, even though Alana wasn’t speaking to me – hasn’t spoken to me for an entire century – I couldn’t bring myself to agree.
“What happened was an accident.” I wrap my fingers around my chain and use it to steady myself because my legs are starting to feel weak from hunger. “She didn’t intend to hurt me, Maura. She’d been trying to learn to control her powers. She has greater control over them now.”
Maura tuts loudly and jerks her head away. She doesn’t want to hear me making excuses for Alana. Without turning back towards me, changing the subject, she says brusquely, “What about Rosalie?”
A knot forms in my throat. “Rosalie . . .”
“You two were close to becoming betrothed, I believe.” Maura lowers herself to the floor and leans back against the wall. Around us, the others are starting to shuffle and murmur as they wake up. Even though there is no daylight present.
I scrape my fingers through my hair and try not to picture her being dragged away from me. A knot tightens in my throat. “Yes, and we still will be.”
Maura looks up at me but doesn’t speak. She doesn’t need to. Her skin is smooth and almost completely free of wrinkles, her long, bright white hair the only true betrayal of her age. “Kayan...” She tilts her head. Sorrow and sympathy swim in her eyes.
“When we leave this place, I will find her.” I inhale slowly, trying to encourage the air into my lungs in the hope it will ease the anxiety that has lodged itself below my ribcage.
Slowly, I sit down next to Maura. In the far corner of the cells, a few of the younger fae begin to pace back and forth. Chained to the wall, they cannot go far and simply make slow, sad circles, their bare feet tapping silently against the cold stone floor.
The earth fae with the red hair, who looks like a willowier version of Alana, begins to cough. Her boyfriend, Pen, asks for water but the guard ignores him.
I look away, thoughts of Alana tugging incessantly at my mind.
“Where do you think Eldrion took her?” I mutter darkly.
Maura frowns at me. “Rosalie was bought before Eldrion –” she stops, sighs, and shakes her head. “You are talking about Alana.”
“Do you think he intends to...?” I can’t finish my sentence. Daren’t say out loud what I’ve been thinking about all night. Over and over.
“I don’t much care what he intends to do.” Maura wraps her arms around her waist.
“That’s not true,” I reply firmly. “You dislike her, but you wouldn’t wish harm on her.”
I expect Maura to tell me I’m right, and laugh. But she doesn’t. She just meets my eyes and, stoically, says, “You underestimate my hatred of the woman who broke you, Kayan.”
The doorto the dungeon creaks open, causing the guard to leap up from his chair.
“Henrik...” A petite, dark-haired fae with small wings offers the guard a large smile. She is blushing.
“Briony.” Henrik grins back, adjusting his belt in a way that makes me shudder a little. Not because he is an unattractive person, but because he is an unattractive soul. He has shown no care for us, no interest, no acknowledgement that we are anything other than ants to be squashed.
“I brought rations.” Briony offers up a hessian sack, tied with string, and a flask of what looks like water.
Henrik takes them and strides over to us. Taking a large iron baton from his belt, he bangs the bars unnecessarily loudly. “Wake up, sleepy heads,” he barks.
“I don’t think anyone was sleeping,” I reply, moving into his field of vision.
He narrows his eyes at me, then shoves an arm through the bars, offering me the sack. “Hand these out.” He follows by giving me the water, too.
“This is all?” I ask, weighing the sack up and down in my hand. “For twenty of us?”
Henrik pauses, his eyebrows almost touching his hairline as his eyes widen. “Shall I take it back?” He moves to open the cell door.
“No, no, thank you,” I force myself to say through gritted teeth. “We are grateful for your... hospitality.”
As the others stand and watch, I open the sack and peer inside. “Bread,” I say bluntly. “But not much of it.” I stoop down and tip it onto the floor, then Maura helps me divide it into twenty minuscule portions while the water is passed around with the instruction to drink only a little until everyone has had a sip.
We eat our bread in silence. Mine hasn’t touched my lips yet when my eyes land on Raine. With dark skin and dark hair, she is a powerful fire fae. She is also pregnant. I call her name and hold out my ration. She is within touching distance, and after hesitating, nods in quiet gratitude and accepts my offering.
“What’s up with your wings?” Henrik’s voice drifts over from where he is standing, sipping coffee, watching us. “They don’t look like the rest.” He jerks his head at the other Leafborne.
My jaw twitches. I do not owe this man an explanation.
“The woman your lord took up to his castle, that’s what happened.” Maura, however, answers for me. “She destroyed him. Took his powers. Drained him of his magic, and his senses. Took him years to even speak like himself again.”
“Maura . . .” I warn. “Please.”
Henrik’s eyes widen a little. He rubs his chin, then glances at Briony, who is sitting by his desk with her own mug of coffee. I can’t read the expression on her face, but something tells me this information means something to her.
“Is that so?” Henrik shakes his head. “Well, well. She sounds special, indeed.”
I flex my wings. They ache with the sudden need to stretch wide and be free.
“She took your magic?”
“She didn’t take it. It doesn’t belong to her. It’s just...” I trail off. I shouldn’t be telling this man anything, but somehow I cannot help coming to Alana’s defence.
Taking a moment to steady my breathing, I move as close to the bars as I can, and fix my gaze on Henrik. “My wings aren’t dissimilar to yours.”
His expression doesn’t change but, behind him, Briony’s wings twitch uncomfortably.
“You’re Shadowkind?” I give a jerky nod, taking in his withered wings and the sallow tint to his skin. “Which means Eldrion owns you.”
Henrik’s fingers tighten on his coffee.
“Does he treat you well?”
“Quiet,” Henrik mutters, rolling his eyes. But everything about his demeanour tells me I’m unnerving him.
“Have you never thought about escaping? Surely, there’s nothing stopping you?” I frown at him, then gesture to the door. “You could walk out right now. You’re not in chains. So, why are you here?”
“We can’t leave.” Briony stands up and strides past Henrik. Her eyes are wide, and she is clasping her mug tightly between her thin fingers. “He owns us. Do you know what that means?”
“From where I’m sitting it means you’re cowards.” I square my shoulders and look her straight in the face.
Henrik moves to her side. “We are no cowards,” he growls.
“Kayan, enough.” Maura nudges me. “Don’t provoke them. It won’t help.”
“I’m not provoking them. I’m trying to understand why they’re here. I always thought the Shadowkind were enslaved. Beaten. Badly treated.” I shrug. “Looks like a pretty nice setup from where I’m sitting. All you have to do is abuse some prisoners, and –”
A sharp bolt of blinding pain ricochets through my knuckles. I’d been holding the bars, and fall back as Henrik lowers his iron baton. The mark it has left on my hand blazes red and angry.
Henrik is visibly shaking. “You have no idea,” he spits.
Briony puts her hand on his shoulder. She whispers something to him and pulls him away. At the back of the room, she kisses him gently, and they continue to talk for a few more minutes. Then she squeezes his hand and leaves.
“Why did you do that?” Maura hisses as she examines my hand. “Why prod him like that? Why anger him? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“Because I needed to see how loyal they are to their lord.” I meet her eyes, and lean in close. “And I got my answer... They hate him as much as we do. Which means we have a chance of getting them to help us escape.”