Chapter 31
Rowan
I was startled awake by a heavy hand on my shoulder.
“Get up. You’ve got two minutes to do your business. Make a noise and the gag will go back on. Understand?”
I nodded, looking in the direction he’d pointed. There was a single bush that wouldn’t shield me from prying eyes, but I saw no alternatives, so made my way gingerly over to it.
Everything hurt. My face still felt swollen from the blow I’d been dealt last night and I had aches in places no one but myself and Caelan should touch.
Caelan? Aenan? Can you hear me? Please hear me. I reached out desperately, but my bonds were dead. Empty.
When I finished in the bush, I tried to pull the two sides of my bodice back together, but the dried blood from the dead fae had stiffened the material and it refused to stay put.
I pulled my cloak more securely around the front, holding it together.
There was blood on my hands, and I spent far too long looking at them instead of looking for something to clean them with.
The leader marched towards me, making me step back in fear. He clasped my arm firmly, propelling me forward. “We’re leaving,” he said tersely. His grip was bruising, leaving no room for argument or hesitation.
I stumbled forward, my feet barely keeping pace with his determined stride.
As we made our way towards the waiting horses, my gaze flicked involuntarily to where Malvaik lay.
He was still sprawled upon the ground in the same spot he’d fallen the night before.
Dead. A chill skittered down my spine as I looked into his vacant eyes, and I felt their accusing touch all the way to my soul.
Tearing my gaze away, I focused on the urgent task at hand.
Escape.
The fae hoisted me effortlessly onto the horse, the same one I had ridden yesterday.
My hands were once again tied to the front of the saddle, and I curled my fingers around the worn leather, seeking stability.
Without a male astride behind me, it was a touch more comfortable, and I allowed myself to relax. Just a little.
However, it was all in vain, as a gust of wind caught at my cloak, billowing it back, making the fabric dance. It fluttered about my shoulders, revealing my gaping bodice. My skin pebbled as the wind’s icy fingers stroked across my chest.
“Wait,” I pleaded. But the leader’s glare silenced me, his eyes burning with a silent command and a reminder of his earlier threat. I swallowed, keeping my words firmly in my throat.
Ignoring my futile attempts to reach for my cloak, he took the reins in his hand and swung himself onto his waiting horse. With a kick to his steed, we lurched forward. I clung to the saddle, my fingers gripping the worn leather with white-knuckled intensity.
They took great delight in ogling my breasts throughout the day.
Whistling. Jeering. Making all sorts of comments not fit for my ears.
I gave up listening after a while, helpless to do anything about it.
I’d tried moving my shoulders, tried to make my cloak fall forward, but every attempt seemed only to make it worse.
The chilly wind was a constant reminder that I was exposed. Vulnerable.
We didn’t stop for breakfast, or lunch for that matter, and the short break we did have was for the fae to relieve themselves.
I was not brought down off my horse. Around mid-afternoon I was given some water.
My mouth was so dry my tongue was sticking to the top.
A water flask – and it was water this time – was held to my lips and tipped up until I choked.
The excess flowing out the sides escaped down my bare chest, a further source of amusement for the males.
But they didn’t touch me. And I didn’t know whether I should feel thankful or worried. Or both.
We stopped for the night only once the sun had vanished beyond the mountains.
Mirroring the routine of the previous evening, I was given some food – like a dog tossed a bone – then largely ignored until bedtime.
After being granted permission to attend to my needs, I was tethered to a nearby tree, provided with just enough slack to lie down, and left to my own devices.
Unlike the night before, where I had lain awake, fearful and alert, tonight I longed for sleep to claim me swiftly.
And surprisingly, it did, despite the circumstances I found myself in.
As I slipped beyond the veil of unconsciousness, my only thought was of Caelan.
My hope, to speak with him in my dreams. My wish, that he would be nearby and could rescue me.
My desire did not come to pass, and I slept dreamlessly, fitfully, until the sun rose the next morning on day three.
It began the same as the last, and I began to fall into despair.
This time, when I was placed atop the horse, I made sure my cloak was firmly tucked in before my hands were tied, causing the fae to grumble and moan at the loss of their day’s entertainment.
They still hadn’t touched me, except to place me atop the saddle each morning and pull me down again each night.
As I had the day before, multiple times, I reached down my bonds, searching for Caelan or Aenan.
I tried to communicate with the horses, but the answering silence was deafening, so I began to suspect there was something in the food or water that was causing the effect.
I’d never felt nothing before. Had always felt…
something. A warm glow. A light. But when I searched that place deep inside, nothing was there.
Having left the valley the day before, we were now riding across flat terrain.
There was nothing to see for miles around, just rocky land and the occasional copse of trees.
I was beginning to lose hope of ever finding my way home should I escape, which seemed more and more unlikely with every passing hour.
Being grossly ignored had its benefits, though, and I’d spent a lot of time thinking about how I had come to be here.
Not why I had gone into the woods – that was entirely on me – but I was starting to think the mysterious trip Caelan had departed on and the urgent call Aenan had answered in the middle of the night were strangely coincidental.
Had the whole thing been orchestrated from the start?
The realisation that Caelan would not return home for at least another day, if not longer, gnawed at me incessantly.
Did he even realise I was missing? Did Aenan?
Had the household staff organised a search party, scanning the estate for any trace of me?
I tried to cling to a faint glimmer of hope that perhaps Jesmina had raised the alarm with someone, or that Mrs Gretchen might have acted.
But who would they speak to? Who would they tell? There wasn’t a modern-day police station they could call. The weight of the unknown was debilitating. Questions swirled in my mind like an unrelenting snowstorm until all I could hear was white noise.
As if hastened by my thoughts, the afternoon brought with it a hint of snow.
The temperature had been steadily dropping over the last hour or two as we had been climbing.
I had been shivering in my cloak for a while now, my tied hands unable to wrap it more firmly about me, so I was hunched down as far as I could to stop the wind from blowing in.
I must have looked like I was sleeping, for I caught a whisper of conversation between the males in front, who until now had been careful about what they said.
“We’ll reach the hold by nightfall. What do you reckon he’s gonna do with her?”
“The same thing we’d do with any whore. Surprised he didn’t let us have a go first,” another replied, disappointment in his tone.
“Rumour has it she’s his niece,” the first male said with a chuckle.
My spine stiffened.
“Like he gives a damn about that. I have heard she looks just like her mother, though, and you know what he did to her.”
“What did he do?” one asked.
“He accidentally killed her. He wanted to convert her, to use her seer gift, but things got a little out of control. He was in a rage for weeks.”
“Do you think it’s the same with this one? Is she a seer too?”
“Who knows. A whore’s a whore. Maybe after he’s had his fun, he’ll let us have a turn,” the third male added, causing all three to laugh.
Their words made my skin crawl, and I shuddered at the thought of what my uncle had planned. At what he had done to my mother and would likely do to me. At least I now knew he was the one who had orchestrated this.
A tremor started in my hands, spreading throughout my body. I desperately tried to push down the creeping terror that threatened to consume me. But it was no use.
An overwhelming sense of dread had been building and building with each passing hour. I had tried to ignore it. But now that I knew who they were taking me to… it was suffocating.
Aenan’s words echoed in my mind. He had warned me about my uncle. About the Dark Fae. About how evil and ruthless they were. And now, here I was, trussed up and about to be handed over to their leader – Vaeyl.
We reached the outer area of the keep just after sunset.
The castle was a dark, brooding shadow, rising high into the sky, its details hidden by the night.
All I could tell was that it was a lot bigger than Wyndaryn, with thick stone walls that wrapped around the four sides.
They towered high above us as we walked in through the iron gates.
I was pulled from the horse without preamble and dragged through the doors by my bound hands, my bodice still gaping open.
Jeers and taunts reached my ears. More fae than I had ever seen lined the inner walls.
Fingers grasped and pinched at me as I was hauled by.
More than one hand tugged at my breasts, and red marks were scratched across my skin.
I had tears in my eyes by the time we entered the great hall.
The room was enormous. Far bigger than any I had seen before.
Rows upon rows of tables dominated the space.
Surely enough for a hundred fae. Positioned prominently at the head of the room was a grand table, reminiscent of those found at wedding banquets, its chairs arranged in a forward-facing fashion.
One chair in the middle resembled a throne, and sitting in that chair was my uncle, his leg casually hanging over one arm.
I was dragged to the centre of the table until I stood directly in front of him. He hadn’t moved. Just casually perused me while twisting a knife on the table with one hand. The room fell silent, the air rife with expectation.
“Aelyra. You’ve finally come to visit me, your dear old uncle. What a surprise.”
Laughter rang out at his caustic words.
“I wasn’t given a choice, was I?” I said back, just as sarcastically.
He gave me a chilling smile before pushing himself up from his chair, his movements deliberate and calculated.
Slowly, he circled the table, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on me.
Each step had my heart pounding at its ominous intent.
I deliberately did not look at him, trying desperately not to let him catch my eye.
But as he drew closer, a need to look up overwhelmed me.
The terror that prickled my skin and iced my veins forced me upright.
He stopped directly in front of me, forcing me to back up a step.
But a body behind me stopped my retreat.
His close proximity was suffocating. I could smell his foul leather scent.
I braced myself, unsure what was to come but knowing it was not going to be good.
The hoots sounding in the room confirmed my fears.
In an unexpected move that made me flinch, he raised his hand, as if to call for quiet, only to redirect it into a vicious backhand that struck my cheek with searing intensity.
Pain erupted across my face like a raging inferno, and I staggered to the side, the force of the blow knocking me off my feet entirely.
The room spun as I crumpled to the ground.
The sharp taste of blood filled my mouth, black dots searing across my vision. Laughter rang out.
“Get her up,” he commanded.
To whom he spoke, I didn’t know, but heavy hands pulled me upright.
Staring at me with a malice I did not comprehend, he growled, “You will keep a civil tongue in your head when you talk to me, or I will have it removed. Is that understood?”
I nodded automatically, a silent surrender to the overwhelming surge of shock and fear.
“What do you say, Aelyra?”
“Yes, Uncle,” I said hesitantly, my tongue thick in my mouth, my lips already swelling along with my right eye.
He ogled my chest then, a small frown appearing on his face. He clicked his fingers. “Tegoren.”
The lead fae who’d kidnapped me approached. “Yes, sire?”
Vaeyl waved a hand in my direction. “Explain.”
“Malvaik, sire.”
Clearly nothing else was needed, which said a lot about Malvaik’s character.
Vaeyl sighed. “And he’s dead, I assume?”
Tegoren looked at me gleefully. “Yes, sire.”
After pausing, as if thinking through a decision, Vaeyl suddenly yelled, “Valerian!”
A diminutive dark-haired female appeared as if out of thin air beside him.
“There you are. Take her to your rooms and clean her up.” He was eyeing the dried blood on my top distastefully.
The female, who I assumed was Valerian, ran a finger down his face in a gesture of casual affection, which elicited a smile from him as he looked at her warmly. It was at such odds with the male I had just witnessed that it shocked me further.
Valerian turned her attention to me. Her touch was unexpectedly gentle as she took my hands and guided me from the room.