Broken #3
So when she started speaking to me, I started wailing, doing my best impression of that damned banshee that led me on this wild goose chase that ended in my Nella’s demise.
When she stopped, I stopped. And when she spoke again, I wailed.
She eventually gave up and left, and then I laughed and laughed. The sound that came from me was maniacal, insane. Maybe I had finally cracked. But I couldn’t stop, my sides aching from laughing so hard, until exhaustion took me into oblivion.
* * *
The prince came at some point between my misery and wrath. I just lifted my disgusting, ruined dress and pissed in the back of my cell as he stood watching, horrified and disgusted.
Let him watch. Let him choke on the stench.
His betrayal barely even dented the surface of my fiery heart these days. It was child’s play compared to what his father had done to me, taken from me.
He meant nothing.
I felt nothing. Not for him.
At some point, he left. I really didn’t know when.
* * *
When the queen came to see me, I didn’t know if it had been days, weeks, or months since my world ended.
I didn’t have the energy to wail today while she spoke, so I sat in silence.
“I understand you’re grieving, Naci, but—”
“You fucking bitch. You horrible, cruel, and pathetic excuse of a queen, cunt! You let the king do whatever he pleases while you just sit by in pleasant complicity, not giving a fuck what that monster does!”
My chest heaved. At one point, I would have feared the repercussions of speaking like that to a royal, but I was so far beyond that point now.
She did nothing more than take a steadying breath in response.
My scalp tingled again, and I felt suddenly calm. I vaguely thought this should alarm me, but the thought quickly vanished from my mind.
“As I started to say, I understand you’re grieving, Naci, but you must understand I am not the king. Right now, I am not your enemy. I wish for you to listen to what I have to say.”
“What could you possibly have to say that I would want to hear, Your Majesty?”
I could tell she was affronted by my tone, but she fixed her face and pressed on.
“It…appears that you are fae. Have you realized that by now?”
I snorted. “Oh no, I thought the darkness that poured from me was divine intervention. Fae? How utterly shocking.” In all actuality, I had come to that conclusion, but it still seemed crazy and impossible, and I couldn’t wrap my head around it.
“Such a sharp tongue. It’s unbecoming of a female.”
“I am not a female! I am not one of you. I am not a fae. I am a woman. I want no association with you.”
“You are not a fae, you are fae.” I noted her subtle correction, ever the critical queen. “The sooner you accept this, the easier this will become.”
“Easier? What exactly becomes easier? The pain from the bruises formed on my back from sleeping on this cold, hard stone? The pain from the blisters on my wrists from the shackles that sting with every move I make? Or the pain from your husband taking everything from me that I have ever cared about? Which, exactly, will become easier if I call myself a female?”
She considered me for a long moment. “I can see the time is not yet right to tell you what you are. We will try again soon.” She turned to leave the dungeon.
“Wait!” If she knew what I was, maybe I could and should put aside my bitter anger. Just for a moment. “I’m listening.” I had all the time in the world after this moment to rage.
She smiled a satisfied smile that made me want to reach through the bars and strangle her. I was playing right into her hand, but I didn’t even know what game we were playing. And I certainly had no other cards to play.
“My dear, it seems you have always been fae. You were born one of us, but something bound your fae heart to mortality and shielded you from the fae you were born to be. I sensed something about you as soon as I met you, but I couldn’t be sure. You were…unique.”
I was so godsdamn tired of being called unique. I didn’t want to be unique. I wanted to be a plain, normal mortal with an alive sister. The way I was in Briarstead.
Gods, things were dire if I were wishing for my life back home with Cassius and Aemilia.
The queen’s face changed as I thought of that life, almost as if she could see what I was thinking. As if she felt…bad for me.
I must have imagined it, because in the next heartbeat her face was stern once more.
“I don’t want to be fae, I don’t even want to be. I have nothing worth living for.”
The fact that I said that out loud caught me by surprise.
“Dear, of course, you want to live.” Spoken like someone who had never truly lost anything. In that moment, I wished her all the pain I had ever felt.
“Tell me what I am, or leave me be,” I snapped. My already near nonexistent patience had worn out. Staring at the wall seemed more appealing than having the queen here one moment longer.
“You seem to be an elemental, a Veythryn, and an Umbrathren all wrapped into one. That’s rare. And the combination of your specific powers? Even more so.”
My fiery heart dropped.