Chapter 4 #3
“Because I stole ten coins from a man I shouldn’t have.” My voice quavered ever so slightly. It was the truth, and it was one of the first lessons that Micah had taught me on the streets. Keep your story as close to the truth as you can.
“Because he was a man of the king?” Dacre asked with contempt in his voice.
“Because he got me caught.”
Dacre’s lips curled up into a smirk as his eyes scanned me from head to toe. His eyes gleamed with amusement, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of annoyance at his smugness.
“Your magic didn’t help you get away?” Dacre’s eyes narrowed as he focused on my hands, which were clenched so tightly my knuckles had turned white.
His question was one that quietly and persistently echoed in my mind. I was the firstborn child of King Roan, heir to the Marmoris throne.
But heirs to a kingdom couldn’t be powerless.
My father knew that all too well, and his words were etched into my mind, a constant reminder of his disappointment.
I was powerless, and that made me worthless to a kingdom that thrived on power.
“I don’t have to tell you what power I have.” I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin, determined not to let him see any sign of wavering in me. His lips pulled back in a smug expression, and he took a step closer.
His gaze trailed over me, and his voice was low and cold when he spoke. “Would you rather be like your friend over there?” He motioned toward the man who still lay at our feet, and revulsion and fear flared within me before I schooled my face into a mask of composure.
“So you’re asking me to join a fight against an oppressive ruler, only to show me more brutality than I’ve ever seen from him?”
Dacre’s smirk evaporated, his jaw tightening. Glances were exchanged among the people around us, and I could hear their whispers, but I was too focused on Dacre to take in any of it.
“If you think this is”—he flicked his hand toward the man beside us—“more cruelty than your king is capable of, then you are one of the biggest fools we’ve ever brought in.”
He slowly shook his head from side to side, and my stomach clenched with a mix of rage and terror. My palms became clammy and sweat trickled down my spine even though I was still cold from the dark water I had plunged into only moments before.
“It’s such a shame.” He started to turn from me.
“One cruelty doesn’t deserve another.” I crossed my arms and stared at the tense muscles of his back. “You’re angry with the king, yet you punish the men and women of his kingdom?”
Dacre’s feet halted mid-step, his body frozen in place.
His gaze was fixed on a distant point, and he spoke without turning to me.
“We punish those who are foolish enough to still follow a king who would rather hide in his castle and watch his people die than do a damn thing to save them. A loyalist to the king is an enemy to us.”
He paused and slowly turned his head, revealing eyes so dark they seemed to reflect no light. His gaze was like two pieces of solid onyx, ever still and watching.
“Where is your loyalty, little traitor?”
“Don’t call me that.” My voice was filled with venom as the name he had given me hit far too close to the truth.
“I’ll call you whatever I want.” Dacre slowly rotated his body toward me, eyes narrowed and voice stern. “I’ll ask you one more time: where is your loyalty?”
“I have no loyalty to my…” It was right on the tip of my tongue to say father, but I stumbled over my words. “The king.”
He looked at me intently, his gaze lingering on my lips as if he could sense a hidden truth lurking beneath them. “And your power?”
My vocal cords felt as if they were seizing up, but I forced the words from my lips. “I have no power.”
The whispering around me grew more audible as if the crowd was a gathering force in their disapproval.
My cheeks burned and my heart raced as I inhaled sharply.
Being a fae without magic was unheard of in this realm, and yet, here I stood with no proof that I would ever have any sort of power to control.
Despite years of training under my father’s watchful eye, all my efforts had been for naught: never a spark, never a wave of energy to let me know I had even an ounce of potential.
Dacre stared at me, his dark eyes boring into mine and searching for answers. His brows pulled together as he clenched his jaw, and a heavy silence filled the air as if he were trying to decide whether or not I could be trusted. “What do you mean, no power?”
I cocked my head as if I was the one studying him now, and I couldn’t control the irritation in my voice. “No meaning none,” I reiterated. “Have you ever heard of it?”
He shook his head absently as if I hadn’t spoken. “How is that even possible?”
I gritted my teeth at his question. “I’ve been trying to figure that out my whole life. But if you can call up to the gods and ask them, I’d really appreciate an answer.”
He stood like a statue and surveyed me, unflinching despite the quick, sharp burst of laughter that came from the corner of the room. His eyes narrowed until I could feel his suspicion emanating from him. “You’ll be with the warriors.”
“What?” I blurted out in disbelief.
“Warriors. Ever heard of them? They wield a sword and fight for what’s right.”
I rolled my eyes as the heat of frustration rushed through me. “I never said I wanted to join your rebellion. ”
“You’d prefer to die?”
I didn’t want to die, but I wasn’t keen on being held captive in another prison either. Trapped by my circumstances. I had barely just begun to find my breath since running from my father’s palace, and already, I could feel it being stolen from my lungs again.
When I didn’t answer, Dacre nodded his head once. “Warrior it is.”
“I’m not a warrior.”
“Trust me, that’s more than noted. But if you can’t wield magic, you will learn to wield a sword.”
He shifted his weight to turn away, but before he took two steps, my heart raced, and dread spread through my veins like gushing water.
“Who am I following? Who’s the head of the warriors?”
This time, his smirk turned into a full-blown smile. “Me.”