Chapter 33 #2
She took a while before answering. “I looked after myself. Though Vaeyl took an interest in me a few years later when the fae started to comment on my changing figure.” I went still at that, horrifying thoughts running through my head, but she continued as if it were of no consequence.
“He gave me this room, then, and his protection.”
I looked at her sharply.
“It wasn’t like that!” she snapped.
I remembered the affection she had shown him earlier, though, and wondered when that had started.
“Why did you say your name was Rowan?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Because it is what I have been called my whole life. My human parents named me.” Well, not technically, but that was a whole other story.
“You don’t go by Aelyra?”
“That is a stranger’s name. I don’t know who that is. I’m just plain old Rowan.”
“May I call you that, then?” she asked. “Rowan?”
“Please do,” I said, smiling.
Once I concluded my bath, and my cuts were tended to, I yawned. Loudly. Valerian had lent me a shift, my own now destined for the waste pile. I was sitting on the chair in front of her fire, brushing out my hair, when her voice sounded from behind.
“I must go now, but you can stay here tonight. I may not return, so will lock the door on my way out so no one can get in. You will be safe here, if you stay in this room. But if you leave or draw attention to the fact that you’re in here, I won’t be able to help you further.”
I nodded at her firm tone.
“If I don’t return this evening, I’ll be back for you in the morning.” With that, she left, and I heard the lock click into place behind her.
As soon as that lock sounded, I looked about the room, trying to find some means of escape.
Something I would be able to use should the opportunity present itself.
I searched her drawers, rummaging through her clothes and her personal items. Anything I could open, I combed through.
But there wasn’t even a fire poker beside the fireplace.
No discarded knives, nothing that I could fashion into a weapon except for a single wooden hair clip with a pointy end.
It was the size of a small pencil, shaped like one too, only thinner.
I slipped it into the pocket of my borrowed robe and climbed up on the bed. Giving the room one final check, I lay down, and before I knew it, I was sound asleep.
I didn’t dream.
I was already awake when Valerian arrived the next morning. Awake and frustrated, after another dreamless sleep. I had no idea what time it was, having not moved from the bed, but she rushed in as if in a hurry, her movements stiff.
“Get up! Quickly now. He’s expecting you in the hall in five minutes.
” She tossed me a bread roll. “Eat that. I saved it for you from breakfast.” When I just looked at her, slightly stunned, she waved her hands at me.
“Hurry. He’s not in a good mood, and if you keep him waiting it won’t bode well for you. ”
I crawled to the side of the bed, the roll clasped in one hand. Noticing the discarded robe and remembering the contents of the pocket, I put it on, tying the sash tightly.
“Yes, that will do, I think,” Valerian murmured, looking at me.
I nibbled at the bread roll, suddenly not hungry. The thought of seeing Vaeyl again turned my stomach. But she hurried me from the room before I had a chance to think of a way to avoid it.
“Come on,” she said, pushing me out. She hadn’t retied my hands, which I was thankful for, but I was wearing no shoes and only her borrowed robe over the shift.
I didn’t feel I was adequately attired to be presented in the hall, but Valerian gave me no time to change, rushing me down the corridor in the direction we had come the night before.
The great hall was filled with fae; nearly every seat was taken. They stood in groups, backs against the walls, quietly talking, but an eerie silence descended when we entered. It was as if a spell had been cast, weaving its magick tendrils through the air and quelling all the noise.
Valerian deposited me in front of the table, the exact same spot I’d stood in yesterday, before moving to sit in the chair beside Vaeyl. I faced him, careful not to look directly in his eyes, focusing instead on his mouth as he spoke to me.
“Aelyra, I’m glad you could join us. I trust you had a pleasant sleep.” His voice wasn’t quite right. It sounded like he was trying to be friendly, but he lacked genuine warmth.
“I did, Uncle. Thank you.” The words tasted bitter on my tongue, but I figured if he could fake it, so could I.
Happy family… Happy family…
It was harder than I expected, though. My mind instinctively detected danger and had begun to race with thoughts of how to escape.
I tried ever so subtly to look about the room, searching for exits.
For weapons. But everything I latched onto I discarded.
Instead, my hand entered the pocket of the robe, and I fingered the wooden hairpin there, a small reassurance.
“I’m certain you would like to know why I have brought you here, Aelyra.”
He continued to use the name I was given at birth even though I had introduced myself to him as Rowan. It was a small but assertive act. I was starting to see the pattern. The abuse. The control. The aggressive behaviour. I needed to act carefully. Speak carefully with him.
“Yes, please, Uncle,” I said demurely. That seemed to please him, and he rose from his chair to walk around the table.
I stood in place, keeping my eyes on him as he rounded the end, trying not to shake as he approached.
But this time he perched on the edge of the tabletop, sitting in front of me.
His eyes were now level with my own, so I looked down, hoping he would see it as submission.
“You see those fae out there?” he said, his arm sweeping out in their direction, and I nodded, even though my back was turned to them. “They all made a choice. A choice to be here.”
I nodded again, unsure where he was going with the conversation, but certain there were quite a few fae who had not made that choice. Not willingly, anyway.
“Unfortunately, your arrival here in Caeldonia threatens that choice.”
I looked up. I couldn’t help it. And his eyes latched onto mine immediately, holding me in place. A wicked grin crept over his face.
“I don’t understand,” I said, still able to speak. I couldn’t recall whether I’d had the ability in the tavern or not.
He stood slowly, not breaking eye contact, my head rising in order to continue looking at him. “Let me put it simply, then. We do not want the curse broken.”
Shouts rang out behind me in affirmation.
“I do not want the curse broken.”
More shouts.
“What we are, what we can do, is not a curse. It is a blessing!”
His voice rose louder with each word until he was yelling. The crowd behind me cheered.
“And I will not allow you, a little slip of a girl,” he sneered, his hand gripping my shoulder, “to take that away from me.”
He pulled his arm back and punched me. Right in the stomach, where I had been hit only days before.
I collapsed to the floor, only after he released my shoulder, and his control. The fae were cheering and yelling obscenities as I lay on the ground, gasping like a fish pulled from the water. I struggled to draw breath as tears coursed down my face.
Vaeyl had moved back to the other side of the table, and I saw Valerian stroke his arm as he sat. He pulled her onto his lap and shoved his hand under her skirt.
“So, you have a choice to make,” he said, turning to me with a lecherous look. “Join us. Join me.” He shrugged. “Or die. Your choice.”
A small piece of defiance rose up within me. I don’t know where it came from, but I managed to wheeze it out.
“I choose option F. Fuck you.”