Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A t first, I think he’s going to just haul me back to his rooms and lock me in there. But instead, he escorts me down to the ground floor. I glance at him in confusion as we weave through narrow servants’ corridors instead of moving through the main halls. But he says nothing, and his expression betrays nothing either.
I can’t seem to figure him out. I expected him to be furious when he caught me trying to escape. And yes, to an extent, he was angry. But it seemed to be more out of concern for my safety than anything else. Which is what I don’t understand. If he actually cares about me in some way, why not just let me escape?
It’s like there are two completely separate sides of him. The ruthless Commander of the Dread Legion who obeys the Icehearts’ every word. And the person who, in his very convoluted way, tried to save me from this fate. He apparently cares about me enough to do that. I just wish I knew why.
“Listen to me carefully,” Draven says as he comes to a halt in front of a plain door at the end of the servants’ corridor we’ve been traveling through. His eyes are serious as he locks them on me. “What you’re about to see is going to be hard, but you can’t gasp or make any sound at all that will draw their attention. If you do, they’re going to make us stay. And you really don’t want that. Especially since you’re not wearing the collar right now.”
His words, combined with the gravity of his tone, send a flare of alarm through me. Whatever is on the other side of that door must be truly awful.
“Do you understand?” Draven demands.
Dread washes through me again, but I hold his gaze as I nod. “Yes.”
He keeps his eyes locked on me for another few seconds, as if to make sure that I truly understand the importance of his warning, before he gives me a nod back. Then he reaches for the handle. With careful movements, he slowly pushes it down and edges the door open a tiny crack. Then he motions for me to step forward so that I can look through the small gap.
Anxious worry snakes through my chest as I move closer. After positioning myself at an angle, I peer through the crack in the door.
At first, I don’t understand what it is that I’m supposed to be looking at. Draven made it sound like there was something horrible here, but it’s just a… banquet.
The room on the other side of the door is made of white ice, just like the rest of the castle, and faelight gems cover the ceiling like stars. Tables draped with white tablecloths are positioned in structured patterns across the floor, and silver candelabras line the walls. They, along with the silver candle holders on the tables, paint the room with warm light.
I sweep my gaze over the people seated at the tables. Dragon shifters dressed in beautiful garments in various colors are eating and talking with smiles on their faces.
Confusion swirls inside my skull. What is supposed to be so awful about this that Draven had to warn me not to gasp?
The tables have been placed in a pattern that points towards the high table. I shift my gaze towards it.
Jessina and Bane Iceheart are seated there at their own private table. As usual, they’re dressed in silver and their massive wings are on display. Jessina laughs and then places a hand on Bane’s arm while she leans in to say something. He smiles back at her.
Then my gaze drifts to the spaces on either side of their short table.
And my heart stops.
A gasp is halfway through my throat before I remember Draven’s warning and snap my mouth shut, cutting off the sound before it can leave my lips.
Pain and dread and utter fucking heartache stabs at my chest like a hot knife as I stare at the two people kneeling on either side of the Icehearts’ table.
Isera and Alistair.
Both of them are wearing silver garments that look more like underwear than actual clothes, leaving them practically half-naked. Their iron collars have been locked with a chain to a ring in the floor that is so tight that it forces them to kneel bowed forward slightly, and their hands have been shackled behind their backs.
I don’t think I’m even breathing anymore as I shift my gaze to their faces.
They’re wearing metal blindfolds which, based on the color, also look to be made of iron, as well as some kind of contraption inside their mouths. There are no straps or anything on the outside, but it looks like they have some kind of metal ring behind their teeth that forces them to keep their mouths open. No doubt so that the Icehearts can drain their magic at any time.
My heart pounds in my chest as I stare at them.
Kneeling, half-naked, handcuffed, collared, blindfolded, and unable to close their mouths. Right in the middle of a massive room full of people who can stare at them and do whatever they want to them while they can’t even see what’s happening around them, let alone fight back.
Next to me, Draven slowly reaches towards the handle and then closes the door softly again. I just stand there, staring at the now closed door before me. The horrors I saw on the other side forever burned into my mind.
“What are they doing?” I press out at last. It comes out like something between a whisper and a gasp.
“They’re breaking them,” Draven replies.
His voice is devoid of all emotion. Tearing my gaze from the door, I turn to stare at him. Once again, the expression on his face betrays nothing. He just holds my gaze, his eyes serious.
“This is what they do,” he continues. “The first few weeks or months or sometimes even years when they break in their new life slaves. When the fae still try to fight back. Still try to resist. Before they eventually break and become obedient little slaves just to stop the torment and humiliation.”
“They do this with all fae who win the Atonement Trials?”
“Yes.”
My heart is pounding so hard that I can barely hear him anymore. Turning my head, I stare at the closed door again, as if I can see the torture that Isera and Alistair are enduring even through the pale wood that separates us from the banquet hall.
Soft fingers appear on my chin, turning my head back so that I’m facing forwards again. When I do, I find Draven standing there, closer than before. He keeps his hand on my chin, and his eyes sear into mine as he holds my gaze.
“Do you understand why I’m showing you this?” he asks.
My mind is spinning, so I can’t manage to formulate a reply in time. When the seconds drag on, Draven answers the question for me.
Raising his free hand, he points towards the door. “ That is what I’m expected to do to you as well.”
My heart jerks in panic.
His grip on my chin gets firmer, as if he truly needs me to hear and understand his next words.
“So you need to act as if I have already broken you. Do you understand?” His eyes burn into my very soul. “If they think that I have failed to break you, they will eagerly try to break you themselves. And there is nothing I can do to stop them.”
I draw in an unsteady breath.
“So hate me all you want, little rebel. And fight me all you want in private. But out here, in public, you need to act as if I’m your God.”