Chapter 2 Rhea
Chapter Two: Rhea
My surprised yelp echoes out as I spin around to find a stout older man standing in the center of the foyer. The moon highlights his short hair, the strands a blend of black and gray. He pulls his lips to the right, clasping his hands behind him as he takes a measured step towards me.
My back hits the door, the urge to call my magic met with a frustrating sense of hollowness.
“This door requires a key,” the man drawls slowly, reaching into his pocket.
My next inhale stays frozen in my chest, my body bracing for an attack, but when he removes his hand from his trousers and holds it out to me, a metal key gleams in his palm.
“Take it.” At my stunned silence, he widens his grin and takes another step towards me, dark eyes glittering with an emotion I can’t quite place.
My eyes dart away and look for another way out that I might have missed from before.
I can either sprint down one of the unknown hallways carved out on either side of me, or I can see what awaits on the other side of the foyer, deeper into the darkness.
None of them are guaranteed to lead anywhere better than where I currently stand.
“I understand your trepidation, so let me make it easier for you.” He tosses the key to the stone floor, and I cringe at the high-pitched noise it makes, sure everyone in this place will hear it. Terrified that one of those people will be the king. “Go on, Lady Rhea. Take it.”
He knows my name, and this is a trap. It is most definitely and decidedly a trap. But what if it isn’t?
I grip on to that tiny seedling of hope as I lean forward.
I am no stranger to the way hope can flare in desperate times.
It can be as strong as a hug from a lover, but it can fray as easily as a torn thread.
Yet it’s the space in the middle, the one that sits between confidence and desperation, that I currently find myself in.
I’m inclined to hope that this stranger genuinely wants to help me.
That his intentions are good. So, despite my reservations, I dash for the key, picking it up and quickly turning to slide it into the lock.
A click rings out, the hope within me bursting at the seams when I tug again on the handle and the door moves.
Cool late night air caresses my face, rustling the strands of my hair that frame it.
The hinges of the door groan quietly as I pull it only wide enough for me to squeeze through the opening.
I don’t spare the man a second glance as I step over the threshold, my gaze tracking over the star-filled night sky and the lapping waves of the ocean in the distance.
Hope lets tears crest when I take another step, taking note of the staircase in front of me.
Gripping my dress in my hands, I lift my foot to descend the stairs, only to find I can’t move any farther.
I tilt my weight forward, content to tumble down the stairs if that’s what it takes, but as if there is an invisible wall blocking me, I go absolutely nowhere.
“No.” The single word slips out, blending into the sound of the water just ahead as I push myself forward again. And again. My stomach churns as I heave out a cry, the word repeating while I slam my shoulder into what looks like nothing but air.
It’s when I hear his horrific voice that that fragile hope officially frays.
It’s when he wraps his arms around my body and hauls me to his chest that it disintegrates completely.
And as something is placed over my mouth, its acrid taste flooding my tongue, I understand why hope is such a fickle thing. Then everything goes black.
“Rhea.” Selene’s voice, normally dulcet, calls out to me with an edge of panic, barely detectable over the riotous beating of my heart. An ominous sensation hovers over me, my body acutely aware even if I can’t see it or give it a name. “Rhea,” she calls again.
“What is happening?” I ask aloud. Her voice isn’t the only one painted in anxiousness. Whispers answer in return, too faint for me to understand. I try to sit up, but beyond being able to tilt my head to either side, I am immobile. It’s as if I’m pinned in place, shackled in a space between worlds.
“We don’t have much time,” she whispers. Or perhaps her voice is already fading away. “With your magic blocked, I cannot speak with you as easily. Or for as long.”
“How did he get the power to block my magic?”
“It is something ancient and familiar, but right now, you need to remember that you aren’t alone.
” The memory of my last visit with Selene surfaces, those exact words a vow I had given her.
The promise feels hollow now. “No,” she says, her voice even quieter than before.
A deeper sound skates over me, goosebumps rising on my skin as a foreign touch follows.
“You are not alone. I am always here with you, Rhea. Always.”
My eyes flutter open, a bright light above me immediately making me squint. I wait for the prickling sensation that happens from a return from the Middle, but it never comes. “Ah, my darling, you’re finally awake. I was about to reprimand Simon for using too much of that potion on you.”
Groaning, I let my head fall to the side. Colors whirl together, my surroundings blurry as my vision struggles to adjust.
“Have faith in me, Your Majesty. Potions of this nature have been a specialty of mine for a long, long time.” The two men continue talking, the sound discordant in my ears as a wave of dizziness consumes me.
Eventually, my vision adjusts, and with a deep breath, I take stock of the room I’m in.
It’s a small space, walls of stone brick in varying shades of gray sending a familiar pang of disquiet through me.
Brown shelves hold glass jars full of different colored liquids, their tops sealed with light brown corks.
Hanging on the wall nearest to my feet are chains and weapons, though the latter look like no instruments I’ve ever seen before.
Silver blades that curve like crescent moons and wooden paddles with gleaming spikes catch my attention first, but there is every manner of dagger and sword competing for it as I push a rough swallow down my throat.
“Rhea, look at me,” my uncle says, his fingers gripping my chin as he turns my head, afternoon sunlight streaming in through a window above him.
His appearance is as pristine and coiffed as always.
A trimmed chestnut beard frames a malevolent smirk while his hazel eyes glow as they stare down into mine. “You had an eventful evening.”
I attempt to jerk away from him and realize that I’m bound to a table, leather straps holding my limbs in place at my wrists and ankles.
King Dolian’s gaze shreds me apart as it roams over my cheeks and then to my lips, where it lingers.
“So much more defiant.” He trails the backs of his fingers over my arm, the action making me involuntarily shiver.
Disgusted fury rages within me, my chest heaving as I snarl at him.
When his eyes meet mine again, a sinister edge hardens his jaw.
“You’re thinking of him, aren’t you?” I tense at the question but refrain from answering.
Nox. His name is a soothing balm, even in the chaos of my internal thoughts and turbulent fear.
The king nods his head. “Yes, I can see it in your eyes. They gleam for him in a way I’ve never seen from you before. ”
Warm air rushes past me, too hot to be from outside, the scent of burning accompanying it.
“I wonder who felt your story was more fairytale-esque, you or the mage prince? In your quiet moments together, did you both revel in the idea that your clandestine meetings and subsequent escape from me was meant to be?” Leaning farther down so that his breath brushes my temple, he whispers, “Tell me this, even if I were to hand you back to him on a silver platter, would he want you knowing you’ve been tainted? That you’ve been marked by me?”
“He loves me.” Though my voice is merely a rasp, it still rings out loudly in the room.
My very soul is entwined with Nox’s. Our love is cosmic.
It is limitless and powerful and tethers us to each other in ways that seem unfathomable without divine intervention.
But we had continually chosen each other.
Through each trial and obstacle thrown before us, those invisible strings bound us even closer together.
“And I will never love you. No matter what you do or how you try to control me, you will have to live with the fact that there is nothing you can do to change that.”
King Dolian’s expression falters, and though I didn’t believe him to be capable of having the emotion, I swear sadness crosses his features briefly.
“We’ll see.” Straightening, he releases my chin and the man he’s been speaking with steps closer.
Simon. If his white-streaked dark hair didn’t give him away, his serpentine smirk certainly would.
He’s the stranger from last night, the one who preyed on my foolish hope.
“Consider what is about to happen next as my assurance that you will always belong to me.” Grabbing the hem of my dress between his hands, King Dolian grunts as he pulls the fabric apart.
The sound of it ripping turns my stomach to lead.
My heart ricochets painfully in my chest, robbing me of the breath I desperately try to draw in.
“Don’t touch me!” I growl, jerking against my restraints.
“Stop fighting me, Rhea,” he responds smoothly, exposing all of my left leg to him.
“I will never stop fighting you!” I heave, but even as I speak, the power of his command washes the fight from my body like the tide returning to the ocean.
“Then I suppose it’s a good thing the ring you are wearing prevents you from doing so.
” With a final tear, my hip becomes exposed to him.
Dread uncoils into absolute horror. Splaying the two lower halves of my dress open, King Dolian holds his hand out above my body.
From where he stands to my right, Simon hands the king a thick glove that matches the one he is wearing, but it’s the long metal rod he’s holding that grabs my attention fully.
“What are you—” The question dies as I study the item more intently.
My eyes flick to the raging fire I can just barely make out in a hearth above my shoulder, a terrible understanding dawning on me.
I know pain intimately. My entire life has been building up a tolerance to it, especially the kind the monster at my side specializes in.
I often wondered if his abuse, and the subsequent years of my own mental torment, would leave a brand upon me that was irreversible.
Something that couldn’t be seen by others but that I undoubtedly knew was there.
Yet as I stare at that menacing glowing metal, I realize King Dolian aims to make his mark on me visible by all.
It will no longer be something hidden in the shadows of my mind but something undeniable. Something permanent.
King Dolian’s eyes drop to mine as he takes hold of the branding iron and spins it around until its burning end is hovering a few inches over me.
“What have I always told you, darling? You are mine. You have always been mine. And after this? I am the only one who will want you. Now, don’t move.
” My quick intake of air is cut short when he plunges the end of the iron down onto my hip, stilling the world for a single second.
A buzzing in my ears temporarily drowns everything out before it all comes rushing back to me in an avalanche of white-hot, fiery pain.
The scent of burnt flesh mingles with the crackling of the brand melting my skin as smoke wafts into the air, and every nerve ending alights with the agony of it.
My eyes slam shut, and though I can’t actively move my body, tremors still wrack through it while a blood-curdling scream is ripped from my throat.
He finally lifts the iron and I suck in an unobstructed breath, the pressure and pain lancing through my skin horrific and unyielding.
It permeates out from my hip and down my legs, my toes spasming as the muscles contract.
I hate the way that I cry out, that it’s my body’s natural reaction to what’s just happened. To how I’ve been marked.
Tears blur my eyes as I watch King Dolian hand the iron back to Simon, taking off the glove and moving to cup my face in his hands.
“Hush. The sooner you accept that this is your new reality, the better it will be for you. I will make you my queen. You will have more freedom than you ever did in that tower.” He brushes his thumbs over my cheekbones, wiping at the tears while my rapid breaths make my consciousness grow hazy.
“Simon, give her something to help her sleep.”
The next moments pass by in a blur as something floral-scented is swiped beneath my nose. I glare at my uncle, hatred seeping from me as my lips lift in the briefest of sneers before I pass out.