Chapter 41
Esmyra
Esmyra stumbled as the guards dragged her through the castle halls, her bare feet slipping against the polished stone. Her wrists ached beneath the cuffs, still humming faintly with the power that strangled her own.
The elven king’s polished cruelty was veiled in fine silks as he looked at her like she was something to be mounted on a wall. Meanwhile, Atlas had watched her like he wasn’t quite sure if he’d made the right decision. But the hate remained in his eyes all the same.
Esmyra had taunted them, daring them to take the cuffs off. Mocked their ignorance of what she really was, of the power she could summon if given just a breath of freedom.
And then, as the guards pulled her away, Draevyn appeared.
Esmyra caught only a flicker of his silhouette at the edge of the chamber as he stepped into the throne room. Her breath had seized in her chest at the sight of him. Even from a distance, she knew it was him before they locked eyes.
He came for me.
For a moment—just a single second—the world had narrowed to that one truth. That no matter what trap she’d walked into, no matter how vicious she’d been… He came for her.
But was it even real? Had she imagined him? A desperate projection of her mind, conjured from the remnants of delusional hope.
No. She had seen his face. His shock, his fury, and barely disguised panic.
Esmyra witnessed the love in his eyes.
But now, as the guards dragged her away, all she could focus on was breaking free. She kept her head low as she tried to gather strength.
Their plan was to extract information on the whereabouts of Elowynne through torture. The glint of steel in both of the kings’ eyes betrayed their intent. If the cuffs prevented mental intrusion, they would resort to more brutal measures.
Would they carve her flesh with velsinyte blades? Would she turn into a husk right there in their dungeon?
Well, maybe if they just fucking asked nicely, I would’ve told them where she is.
A subtle snort left her. Who was she kidding? She wouldn’t have done that.
“I didn’t hear anything funny,” one of the guards said to the other. “Did you?”
“Sure didn’t.”
That was when one of them struck.
It wasn’t a blow to the face or a scream-worthy lash. No, it was crueler than that. A sharp twist of her wrist had it snapping, her tiny bones breaking and paralyzing her for half a heartbeat. Her knees buckled as she screeched, her hand hanging limp in its cuff.
“Fucking prick,” she hissed.
The other guard tightened his grip, fingers digging bruises into her other arm as they yanked her forward with renewed force.
But even then, none of their inflicted pain was comparable to the sharp ache in her spine. It hadn’t eased since she woke up on the ship. If anything, it had gotten worse.
They dragged her down the steps then. They were out of the moon-lit halls, passing by carved statues of ancient elven kings as they descended to the underbelly of the palace, lit only by torchlight.
The corridor narrowed until it felt like a cage closing around her.
They stopped at a door reinforced with iron bands. One guard pulled a ring of keys from his belt, the other pressed a hand to her shoulder, pinning her to the wall.
The key turned with a grinding click.
The door groaned open, revealing a room where chains hung from the ceiling, and drains were carved into the floor like gaping mouths.
“Creepy,” she muttered under her breath.
One of the guards stopped mid-step and turned sharply. “What was that?”
She gave him a slow smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “Just admiring the hospitality.”
He didn’t smile back. Instead, he shoved her hard between the shoulder blades, making her stumble forward into the center of the room. She silenced the scream climbing her throat at the sudden pressure to her already agonized spine.
The other male moved toward the center of the room, where a chair was chained to the floor, and rusted iron cuffs bolted to its arms.
They wouldn’t be able to use those bolted cuffs so long as she wore the ones currently on her wrists.
“Get the chains,” one barked. “We’ll need to strap her down.”
Oh, fuck no. Think Esmi, think. What did Drae teach you?
As they grabbed her arms to force her down, her mind ticked fast, remembering everything he taught her in hand-to-hand combat when they were down in Maerinys.
She needed to start by finding their weaknesses.
The guard on the right was older, likely not difficult to disarm. The other was cocky, overconfident, and didn’t keep both hands on her when he should.
They haven’t restrained my legs yet. If I shift my weight left…
She kept her expression neutral, but her fingers twitched as she counted her breaths, timing it.
They now all stood before the chair, turning from her to grab their chains.
With a sudden burst of adrenaline that drowned her pain, she twisted and drove her knee into the younger guard’s groin with enough force to knock the breath out of him.
“Fuck!” he bellowed, doubling over with a grunt before falling to his knees. “Get her!”
The older male lunged to grab her, but she ducked under his reach and pivoted, slipping just behind him.
“Oh, I don’t think so, old man,” she hissed.
In a fluid motion, she dodged him again and leapt onto his back.
Her legs wrapped around his waist as she climbed up his body like a starving wraith. Her weight nearly toppled him, but she held tight, her injured wrist burning with fire as she looped the slack of her cuffs’ chain across his neck.
Then Esmyra heaved.
The chain bit deep into his flesh. He clawed at his throat, gasping as the metal cinched tighter. She bore down with every ounce of fury she had, teeth gritting as her face pressed to his shoulder.
The guard staggered backward, her legs still locked around him as he slammed them both into the wall. The breath rushed from her lungs as her back hit the stone, but she held on, jaw clenched, as the chain crushed deeper into his neck.
The younger guard came charging at them, yelling with his sword half-drawn.
“Stand down!” Esmyra snapped, voice sharp and breathless. “Or I’ll kill him.”
The male hesitated, blade raised as his eyes flicked between her and his choking comrade.
“How about I slice your hands from your fucking wrists and take those chains off. Let’s free that mind of yours,” he spat. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.”
Her eyes locked onto his, cold and steady. “Well, lucky for me, I’m not a gentle kind of girl.”
A heartbeat passed, he lunged, and then she struck.
The chain snapped tight with a sickening crunch, accompanied by the sound of vertebrae giving way. The guard’s body went limp beneath her, and she dropped to the floor with him, landing in a crouch as he crumpled.
The room went silent for half a second.
Then the remaining guard charged at her. “You bitch!”
Esmyra barely rolled away in time, the edge of his blade slicing through her shirt as she tumbled. She came up on one knee, breathing hard, blood pounding in her ears.
He swung again, wild and angry. Noting his frantic attacks, she wondered if they could work in her favor.
One. Two. Three, she counted his swings before ducking low to strike. Esmyra rammed her shoulder into his gut, and they crashed into a table against the wall, sending tools and whatever torture devices they planned to use clattering to the ground.
Esmyra tried to roll away, but he grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her back.
Oh, this stupid bastard. What she wouldn’t give to have her powers back.
She screamed, twisting in his grip, and drove her elbow into his ribs three times, until his hold faltered. He frantically searched for his sword as she wrenched free, both of them sprawled across the weaponry and ruined table.
His hand wrapped around a short-handled axe and he lunged, preparing to bring it down on her for the kill.
Time slowed for Esmyra, and the room narrowed to the glint of the axe’s blade.
Panic erupted through her, limbs shaking with exhaustion as the weight of her broken wrist screamed with every movement. Blood—both hers and theirs—coated her palms. She could barely hold herself upright.
He roared, boots slamming against the floor, the weapon lifting high over his shoulder.
Esmyra’s eyes flicked to the cuffs on her wrists, then to their chain.
Fuck yes.
With all her might, she raised her arms, locking the chain between them like a shield, bracing for the blow.
The axe came down, and steel met metal with a bone-shaking clang. The impact rattled through her arms, before the chain finally snapped. Her wrists flew apart as the man stumbled from the impact. She blinked as she stared at her separated hands, stunned while her breath caught in her chest.
Kaelypso’s fucking tits, it worked!
Esmyra slowly looked down at her chest. “...My tits,” she whispered with a manic giggle.
And then her gaze snapped back up to him, full of fire.
Wildfire, she heard Draevyn’s voice in her mind.
The guard’s jaw hung open in shock.
“Thanks.” Her lips curled. “But for your own sake, you really shouldn’t have done that.”
Fist flying, her knuckles crashed into his jaw with a dull crunch, and he reeled. The male snarled, swinging wide with the axe again, but now her arms were free. She ducked, pain flaring through her spine as the wind of the blade passed overhead.
Esmyra’s elbow slammed into his side, and she followed it with a knee to his gut that forced the air from his lungs. He retaliated with a punch that clipped her shoulder and sent her stumbling, but she caught herself on the wall.
Out of the corner of her eye, a dagger glinted in the low torchlight, half-buried in a pile of discarded chains. She didn’t waste a second as she dove for it in the same moment he roared and charged again.
Esmyra’s body slammed into the ground, skidding through blood and debris. Her fingers closed around the hilt and she twisted, bringing it up as he lunged at her, his mouth open in a yell as she drove the blade up into his gut.
The guard gasped, his weight slumped against her. She met his hazy gaze as blood gurgled up his throat, dripping from his bottom lip.
Esmyra twisted the dagger, and his eyes went wide before they lost focus completely. And then finally, he collapsed on top of her.
Holy hells, she did it. She’d never been more grateful for Draevyn’s training.
She shoved his body off her with a grunt, the weight of him thudding to the floor. For a moment she stayed there, her breath coming in ragged pulls. Blood smeared her hands, and her arms trembled as she brought them to her face.
Pushing to her feet, she swayed slightly and took in the room. The overturned chair. The broken chain, twisted and bloody. One body face-down in the corner, the other lying near her feet, limbs splayed. The tang of iron hung heavy in the air, and her ears were still ringing from the chaos.
Esmyra’s eyes darted to the door that loomed ahead, then back around the chamber. Her heart pounded as she strained to listen for shouts, footsteps, or the clang of armor.
But nothing came.
Her mind scrambled to form a plan, but it came up empty. She didn’t know where they’d taken her, didn’t know which way to go. But staying here meant death.
Esmyra flung open the heavy door and rushed into the hallway before bolting up the stairs and back into the corridor.
Every ache in her body screamed at her to stop, but she didn’t dare.
She couldn’t risk slowing down for even a moment so long as the velsinyte cuffs still encircled her wrists.
And she needed to vanish before anyone realized the guards weren’t coming back.
Before the kings realized she was no longer their prisoner.