5. Brinley
Chapter 5
Brinley
A pounding on the door woke Brinley from a fitful sleep. Or was the thumping actually in her head? She rubbed at her aching temples and noticed the sun making its way through the gauzy red curtains of the paned window. All night, flashes of that village being destroyed flooded her mind. The vivid nightmares made it impossible to sleep for long.
The day before, she’d managed to clean herself up and slip into the chemise Gabriel brought when he returned to help her out of the bath. The tonic had eased a lot of her pain, but not enough to put on the pantalettes too. Regardless, she refused any more help after that, and he’d left her standing in the middle of the bathing chambers, telling her that he put a dress on the bed before marching out.
She’d intended to leave and make her escape, but she couldn’t put on the dress, let alone make it to the door. Instead, she had collapsed on the bed, all but dragging herself onto the tall, thick mattress. By the time she’d made it to the pillows, she realized she hadn’t shut the thick black curtains behind the sheer ones to block out the light.
She also realized that she no longer cared whose bed this was. It was the most comfortable place she’d ever rested in her life. Though, she might have just thought so because of where she’d spent the previous night and morning. Compared to being carried over a shoulder like a sack of flour and then the cold hard floor of that prison cell, this was practically a cloud in the heavens. Regardless, she couldn’t help but think that if the beast returned to kill her, at least she would die cozy, surrounded by fluffy pillows and the softest blanket in the world.
Knocking echoed through the bedroom again, and she realized it really was someone at the door, not just the pain in her head. Slowly, she tried to sit up. It was a little easier to move today, but not much. Each breath hurt her ribs tremendously. Looking around, she found a glass of water and another small vial on the nightstand. She wanted to refuse both, but her mouth felt as dry as the plains outside Créll on the warmest soleil month, and if that vial contained the same tonic she’d reluctantly taken the night before, she knew it would help with the agony.
With a sigh, Brinley uncorked the latter and drank the bitter concoction before grabbing the glass of water. She wasn’t sure who left it, and right now, she didn’t particularly care.
The door opened, followed by a groan. “All right, Princess, time to get up.”
Brinley’s eyes snapped to the female storming in, then to the male staying back. The guy who’d left her in the prison cell to be tortured by his friend. He leaned casually against the door frame. She’d never seen the woman, but she could immediately see their striking resemblance to one another. Between their matching gray eyes and warm brown skin, the curly black hair, there was no way they weren’t siblings.
“Daci,” the man hissed.
The woman—Daci, apparently—looked over her shoulder. “You do not get to speak. You made this bad situation worse. The only reason you’re with me now is so I can keep a fucking eye on you.” Turning back to Brinley, she added, “Now, you , get dressed.”
“Excuse me?” Brinley asked, refusing to obey. Even if she could just jump up and do it, even if she wasn’t in pain, she wouldn’t.
Daci put her hands on her hips and looked down at Brinley. She appeared around the same age, but she held an air of authority about her. “I said, get up and get dressed. If you’re going to live here, you’re doing your part. Your injuries weren’t that bad; you should have healed by now.”
Brinley’s brow furrowed in confusion. What in the hell was she talking about?
“You clearly speak the common tongue, so don’t act like you don’t understand.”
“I understand the words, but not what you’re talking about.” Brinley crossed her arms, cautious of her aching wrist, shoulder, and ribs. “You say if you’re going to live here as if I chose to be a prisoner here, as if I want to be here.”
“But that’s not—” the man started as he pushed off the door frame to step farther into the room, but Daci held a hand up to stop him.
She stepped closer. “My alpha saved your life by bringing you here, witch. So, you’re going to get your ass up, show some damn respect—or at least gratitude—and pitch in like the rest of us.”
Brinley could not believe this woman. “I don’t know what that beast told you, but I wouldn’t call slaughtering my people and tossing me in a cell saving my life .”
“He put you there for your own safety until we could figure out what to do with you,” Daci said, her voice rising. “And as soon as he found out Torin was hurting you, he brutally punished the man and brought you here, letting you take his bed.”
“All right, enough,” another man said, appearing in the door just as the first one moved farther into the room, grabbing the woman by the arm. But not before Brinley flinched back against the headboard, jostling her ribs. She winced, and Daci looked down at Brinley’s body as if she just realized she was still injured.
“Let me go, Darren.” Daci shrugged out of his hold.
He released her but angled his body between her and Brinley. Ironic since, like Daci said, he was the cause of all this pain to begin with. Maybe not directly, but he’d left her with the man who had tortured her. When Brinley tried to move again, the newcomer approached, his hands up in front of him.
“I’m not going to hurt you. My name is Joel.” He pointed to the arm she cradled against her chest. “May I?”
“Don’t touch me.” Brinley shook her head, fighting back the burning in her eyes. She hated feeling so weak and vulnerable.
“All right,” he said in a soft tone, stilling his movements. He glanced at the empty vial and then at her again. “Why… Why haven’t you healed?”
“Because it’s been less than a day since your friend tormented me?” She said it like a question, utterly confused by these people.
Daci scoffed, shaking her head. “He is not our friend, and he never should have touched you.”
“Can we please start over?” Darren said, something akin to regret flashing in his gray eyes. “My name is Darren; this is my twin sister, Daciana. She is the gamma of this pack. We’ve been instructed to come make sure you are on your feet and doing better, but that’s clearly not the case.”
She stared at him, unable to comprehend how he thought they could just come in and pretend everything was fine. Did he truly think they would ever be friends?
“We know most witches have the ability to heal, so my question is, why haven’t you done so yet?” Joel asked.
Brinley opened her mouth but hesitated. She didn’t want to share anything with the DeLoup. She was already in a vulnerable position; she wasn’t about to let them know she hadn’t accessed her magic yet.
When she didn’t answer, Joel nodded at the other two. Darren turned to his sister and whispered something. She rolled her eyes and left the room in a huff, dragging him with her.
“I’m sorry about her,” Joel said. “This situation has… brought up some unpleasant memories for many people, and she hasn’t handled it well.”
“I’m so sorry my imprisonment has been an inconvenience for you all.” Brinley narrowed her eyes.
To her surprise, he chuckled and moved to sit near the end of the bed. “Your name is Brinley, right? That’s what Gabriel told us.”
She nodded.
“All right, well, Brinley, I’m going to let you in on a little secret.” He lifted one foot onto his opposite knee. “I’ve spent a good portion of my life studying your kind. So, I know that witches typically don’t start studying and training with their magic until they reach twenty-one years of age.”
He tilted his head, inspecting her. She held the blanket up over her body more.
“How old are you?”
Clenching her jaw, Brinley sighed. “I turned twenty-one on the solstice.”
Joel’s brow creased for a brief second before realization seemed to strike. His eyes widened. “The day before yesterday?” he whispered, and she nodded again. “The day you…”
“The day the village I was in was attacked and I was kidnapped.”
“Shit,” he hissed, putting a hand to his head, rubbing his temple.
Brinley didn’t respond. How could she? No, she didn’t know how to use her magic. She was supposed to start her training this week once she returned to the castle. Instead, she was here, imprisoned by the DeLoup. The back of her throat burned, and she looked away from the man who sat by her feet.
For eleven long years, she’d lived away from her home, hidden from those who’d sought her out in the past. And it had all been for nothing.
“Brinley?”
She sniffled and wiped the traitorous fallen tears from her cheek. “What?”
“You don’t know how to heal yourself?”
Shaking her head, she whispered, “No.”
“I… I thought most witches at least learned the basics growing up,” he said.
That was true, but she didn’t exactly have the same education as others. She looked at the wolf shifter, wondering how he could pretend to be concerned so well. If she didn’t know better, she would believe he was genuine. Glancing around the room, testing out her shoulder and wrist, she internally groaned. What could be the harm in telling him the truth? It wasn’t as if he could use it against her more than anything else.
At this point, it wasn’t like she had anything else to lose anyway. Even if some of her guards and those villagers had managed to survive, she knew these wolves would never let her go freely. If they did, it would undoubtedly be a trap. And she refused to lead them right back to her people.
“I was taught the basic concepts, but not the actual techniques. While many break the age restriction law, with some parents teaching their children and adolescents and beginning to practice in secret, I was not afforded that opportunity,” she started. “I didn’t have that kind of privacy, nor did I have anyone to show me and work with me.” Not entirely a lie, but she wasn’t about to tell this man about André.
“Your parents didn’t teach you?”
She took a deep breath. “No. My father was killed by your kind when I was three years old. My mother followed suit just shy of my tenth birthday, but even before that… his death had changed her. She didn’t really spend time with me at all. It was just my grandmother and I after that, and she wouldn’t break those laws.”
“Stickler for the rules?” he asked.
The comment almost made her laugh. “You could say that. Especially with the ones she made.”
Joel’s entire body tensed. He stared at her for a long moment, clearly piecing it together in his mind. “Your grandmother… is the High Sorceress?”
“And Queen of Reinous.”
He shoved his fingers through the light brown hair atop his head. “You’re the damn heiress of Les Sorcières.”
Brinley nodded, leaning back against the headboard, feeling a little satisfied while watching him panic. And with good reason. Her grandmother was the most powerful witch in the queendom, feared by the wolf shifters because she’d been the one to finally put a stop to their vicious ways. Or at least, the one to finally offer protection for the humans and those with magic, keeping the DeLoup packs in check for the most part. There were still attacks, but nothing like the ongoing war of the past.
She wasn’t sure if her grandmother made it out a couple nights ago, but she wasn’t about to tell Joel that either. “That’s right. And judging by your reaction, you know exactly what she is capable of. You know that only La Déesse herself could stop my grandmother from destroying you when she finds out you kidnapped and tortured her granddaughter and heiress.”