Chapter 34
Rowan
Fuck you? What was I thinking? Valerian had warned me he was in a foul mood, but I had to go and antagonise him further.
Dumping Valerian unceremoniously to the ground, Vaeyl leapt from his chair, his face purple with rage. “Chain her up!” he screamed, spittle flying from his mouth. Valerian stood and placed a hand on his arm, but he backhanded her away and she retreated, holding a hand to her face.
Rough hands grabbed at my hair. At my arms. Hauling me backwards. I was already on the ground, so tried desperately to latch on to something to halt my progression past the tables. The fae we passed laughed and sneered and kicked at me until I was forced to duck my head.
I was dragged up onto a raised podium at the back of the room.
At its centre was a large iron ring, and attached to that was a thick, heavy chain with an iron collar on one end.
It was clear I was to be displayed like a shackled animal for all to see.
Panic surged within me, and I thrashed about, trying to break free, fuelled by adrenaline and the instinct to flee.
But the grip on my hair was unforgiving and my struggles were for naught.
As one male held me down, another latched the collar around my neck and, with a clank, bolted it in place, dropping the heavy band so it fell onto my collarbones.
The pain was jarring. There was only enough room for me to slip my fingers between the metal and my neck, and I already felt claustrophobic.
I tried desperately to pull it off when they released me, but it was too tight.
My only reprieve – if you could call it that – was the fact that I was left alone afterward.
But it was a false sense of solitude, for the hall still had a great many fae in it.
It seemed to be a room where they all congregated, not only for meals, but the times in between too.
They ignored me, mostly. Their attention was focused on each other, on their own agendas and schemes.
The hours seemed to drag. Every second felt like an eternity, and I found myself watching the shadows as they inched along the wall.
A silent witness to the passing of the sun.
Vaeyl had left not long after I’d provoked him, and I hadn’t seen him return.
Valerian had trailed off after, her face mottled and swollen.
I felt sorry for her. For the life she was leading.
But right now, I felt sorry for myself too.
I desperately needed to use a bathroom, but my requests had gone ignored.
I’d also not had food or water since the bread roll earlier that morning, and my stomach was growling with hunger.
I had been given a cup to drink from, but it turned out to be the foul-tasting alcohol I’d been given before.
I’d only taken a sip before I pushed it away.
The cup still sat there. Taunting me. I knew when I was thirsty enough, I would not be able to help myself and would drink.
With the gradual dimming of the daylight, there was the flicker of lanterns igniting, and a procession of fae began to trickle in. Amongst them, I spotted Vaeyl, his presence looming as he entered. Valerian was nowhere to be seen.
My gaze locked onto him when he halted, his piercing eyes finding me perched upon the stage.
I felt trapped. Like a bird in a cage. Or a dog on a chain.
He turned to his companion, and there was a subtle exchange.
With a quick nod of affirmation, the male set forth towards me with determined steps.
A surge of apprehension gripped me, and I instinctively straightened, my heart racing with anxiety.
I followed his progress as he navigated through the maze of tables, his path leading inexorably towards me.
When he reached the platform, he unfastened the chain from its mooring and hauled me upwards with a firm tug.
Then, as if pulling a leash, he dragged me towards the male still standing at the front of the room.
The journey felt endless. Each step echoed with the weight of anticipation that seemed to constantly thicken the air. The hushed silence of the watching crowd only intensified my unease, their lack of jeers strangely unsettling.
How quickly I had gotten used to them.
When we reached the front, my chain was handed over to Vaeyl, who delighted in pulling me closer to him.
Link. By link. By link.
The clinking noise of that chain as he pulled me forward, the clank as each link hit the ground, reverberated through to my soul. He stopped me directly in front of him. A position that seemed to amuse him, as I was forced to look up, baring the soft part of my throat.
“Have you made a decision yet, Aelyra? Will you join us?”
My body tensed, every muscle rigid with fear. The weight of Vaeyl’s gaze bore down on me. His question hung like a tangible threat. One with the potential for dire consequences should I answer incorrectly.
I wrestled with the tumult of thoughts racing through my mind.
Outright refusal was out of the question, as I was certain it would provoke his wrath, and surely my death would follow.
But what else could I say? My mind flipped.
Over and over and over again. Finally, I grasped onto an idea.
One that provided a slender thread of hope.
“I don’t know,” I said submissively, dropping my chin as much as I could with the thick iron band beneath it. “What does it mean to be Dark Fae?”
My uncle spun away from me, and I flinched.
But he only dropped the heavy chain to throw his arm in the air.
He was a performer, I realised, one in his own show.
He addressed the fae. “What does it mean to be Dark Fae, she asks?” His voice boomed out over the crowd.
There were laughs and hoots. “Maybe we should show her?” he yelled. This time he was answered with cheers.
His words made my stomach tighten. I was about to suffer the same consequences as earlier. My palms began to sweat, and the anxiety I experienced every time he was near made my heart palpitate. I was certain I was about to be sick.
Turning back to me, he stood on the chain, trapping me in place, and swiftly grabbed me by the back of my head. His fingers tangled my hair in a tight fist before yanking me forward. He stopped a whisper away from my mouth.
“What it means,” he said, his voice low and ominous, “is that every one of your dark fantasies can come true.”
He ground his mouth to mine. My still-healing split lip burst open at the pressure.
Vaeyl pulled back, licking the blood from his mouth. “What it means,” he said again, louder, “is that everything you want, everything you desire, you can have. Tell me, Aelyra, what is it you desire?”
He didn’t give me a chance to respond before pushing his lips back to mine, ignoring my gasp of pain and crudely plunging his tongue into my mouth.
Not this. I did not desire this. I choked, my body shaking as I fought against his unrelenting grasp.
The scent of his sweat and the alcohol staining his breath was overpowering.
It filled my nostrils, making me want to retch.
But he didn’t care. He was too consumed by his own pleasure.
His free hand roamed over my body with feverish desperation, and I could hear the jeers and catcalls from the onlookers, urging him on.
I wanted to scream. Wanted to beg for help.
But my throat was constricted with fear.
His touch was rough. Aggressive. Leaving bruises in its wake.
The feel of his hot breath on my neck, of his lips pressing against my skin with a possessive hunger, sent my mind into a chaotic mess of panic and revulsion.
Desperate to escape, I thrashed, but he wouldn’t let me go.
He was too strong. Too determined to claim what he wanted.
And the more I resisted, the more he seemed to revel in my struggles.
His arousal pressed against me. As the cheers and catcalls grew louder, I realised that I was nothing but a plaything in their twisted games.
I was screaming now, from deep within my throat. Terror overwhelmed me, but when I felt his hand move up my leg, pulling my shift with it, I knew I had to act. Air touched my exposed skin and the cheering behind me got louder as my rear was exposed. And then his fingers…
Moving my own as quickly as I could, I felt for my pocket. Reached for the wooden hairpin. Dragging it from its hidden space, I raised my arm.
The cheers turned to shouts. Warnings. But I ignored them and plunged my makeshift weapon into the side of his throat.
I was certain I was about to die.
It was a mistake. I knew as soon as I’d done it. The end of the clip was not sharp enough to penetrate deep, and it barely entered his flesh despite my desperate blow. He reared back, a hand to his neck, his eyes bulging, before a look of pure rage crossed his face.
Removing his hand from my hair, he drew back and punched me straight in the face.
It was sometime later when I awoke, dazed and disorientated.
I was in a dungeon. Or what I believed to be a dungeon.
It looked just how I imagined a dungeon would look.
The floor was covered in dirt and who knew what else.
The walls were rough stone and cold, wet in sections.
There were no windows, no natural light at all, only a single lantern burning at the end of the hall.
The door was made of iron with thick bars and presented no way to escape.
The stale air reeked of decay, making me nauseous.
Or maybe that was the pain that was radiating from my face.
It made me dizzy, and I lay still for a bit, trying to engage my other senses.
The coldness had already seeped into my skin, and I realised I wore only my shift, the robe now gone.
I could barely open my eyes, and my nose… I reached up to touch it.
Oh, my bloody bleeding hell.