Chapter 28 – Alex
Chapter Twenty-Eight
ALEX
The dinner is a complete disaster once Sera transforms. Lords and ladies jump from their seats, pointing and screaming at the swan that’s taken the place of “Lady Penelope.”
Swan Sera honks angrily, and smoke curls out of her mouth. Oh shit.
“Seize the beast!” the queen screams. Swan Sera takes off, headed straight for the musicians, whose music comes to a screeching halt.
What do I do? Chase after her? If they capture her, I might be her only way out, so the last thing I need is to be captured myself.
A dozen guards chase after her, and I try not to laugh as she sets half of them on fire.
“Now that I’ve never seen before,” Lady Jade says.
I glance at Lady Brooke, and her eyes are wide like saucers. “What in the realms is happening? Is everyone else seeing this?” She blinks a few times.
“I’m afraid so,” I reply, trying to calm the simultaneous panic and amusement flooding my veins.
“Sir Grey, I’d advise you not to do anything hasty.” Lady Jade’s voice is a whisper in my ear, and I frown, looking back at her across the table. How did I hear her?
Lady Jade smirks, whirling a finger through the air. Ah. Right. Air magic.
“Capture that damned beast!” the queen screeches, the sound grating on my ears before she turns her gaze to me and points a finger. “You.”
I feign ignorance. “What? I have no idea how she did that. Do you think I’d knowingly bind myself to a fire-breathing swan?”
The queen pauses, doubt clouding her features before they harden into something malicious. “Seize him for questioning.”
Well that’s just fantastic. Maybe I should have run.
Two guards stalk toward me, and I lift my hands in surrender. My best bet is to continue to play dumb and hope the fear of the sun goddess will be enough to keep the queen from killing me outright.
Shouts in the distance and the faint sight of smoke give me hope that Sera got away. I’d hate for her to be caged by this evil enchantress, regardless of her lies. Her damned gut-wrenchingly painful lies.
Guards lead me back into the palace, and we travel down into the depths of it.
The air grows musty and stale, and as we go farther, tree roots mangled through the stone make the ground uneven.
Going underground sends a chill through me.
I didn’t think I was claustrophobic, but I’m starting to wonder if I might be.
After far too many turns and flights of stairs, the guards finally open a small cell.
A tiny cot and a bucket are the sole decor, and the putrid scent of excrement fills my nostrils.
They didn’t even think to empty the damned bucket from the last inhabitant?
I make a retching sound. Disgusting. The tiniest fae light flickers in the corner, giving the space an ominous feel as my shadow spreads across the floor.
“How long am I to be held here?” I ask the guards as they lock the door with a slotted window. “I haven’t done anything wrong!”
“You’re here at the queen’s mercy,” one of the guards sneers before walking away.
Once their footsteps fade, I’m struck with how incredibly quiet it is. If I strain my ears, I can hear faint drops of water, and perhaps even the tiniest squeak of a rodent. I shiver. The cold, damp air wraps around me like an unwelcome blanket.
Taking a seat on the small cot, I try to gather my thoughts. How in the hells do I get out of this? My mind flashes to Sera, but there’s nothing she can do for me now, especially not in her swan form. Gods, I really hope she got away.
The thought of her, my supposed mate, fills me with so much pain. How could she have kept such a big secret from me? How long has she known? How long has she been pushing me away because of it?
I try to wrack my brain for all the research I did on the fae.
Whether or not the books I read were correct is a whole other story, but there has to be some truth to them.
Mates are a serious thing to the fae. A mate bond even supersedes a marriage bond.
Fae who lose their mates never move on to another if the bond was .
. . sealed? Accepted? I’m sure I read something about that.
But how could I, a human, be mated to a fae?
I groan into my palm, the noise cacophonous in the silence of my cell.
Damned gods and their meddling. Of course.
Of course they’d see fit to mate me with someone from another realm.
They don’t give a shit about my unbelief, they meddle regardless.
Does this explain why I’ve been so drawn to her? How much I want to protect her? How the hells did I miss this? Not that I would have ever even thought to ask, but she knew. She knew, and she kept it from me.
The minute I get her alone, she is going to get an earful. Hells, I hope I get the chance. The thought of losing her leaves a gaping hollow in my chest.
With no sign of the impostor queen or any of her minions, I recline on the rickety cot, wrapping my arms around myself.
As mad as I am at Sera, my thoughts continue to drift to her.
I’m angry and downright terrified not knowing if she’s safe, but my heart beats only for her, the strong, resilient, selfless female.
Gods, she is perfect and was made for me .
. . quite literally, if I believe this mate shit. I need to see her, to know she’s okay.
Hours pass. I drift between asleep and awake, having no way to mark the time except for counting the subtle drip, drip, drip from somewhere in this dank dungeon.
I haven’t heard another soul, and I wonder if I’m the only one down here or if there is fae magic at work, keeping our sounds from each other.
There is nothing quite as terrible as being completely alone.
It gnaws at me, makes me question everything.
Worst of all, the craving for vespira grows.
It dissipated enough that, for a moment, I thought I might’ve been doing better, but here, alone in this darkness, when all I have is my self-loathing and frustration to keep me company, the hunger returns.
What if Sera didn’t tell me about the mate bond because she knows I’m not worthy of her?
Because she could never tie herself to someone so hopelessly lost?
Margot told me there was no cure, that I’d have to fight, but that will is slipping away.
The thought of escaping into the haze of vespira plays like a dream in my mind, following me into my slumber.
I suppose I should be grateful they don’t have it here, but that doesn’t stop the ache . . .
I claw at my skin, needing a distraction. Something to take my mind off this godsdamned craving. I’m not even sure at what point the craving shifts to actual hunger and thirst for sustenance. Have I been down here for days, or has it only been hours? I have no clue, and it’s maddening.
I start talking to myself out loud because I need something to listen to, but then I worry someone is eavesdropping.
Paranoia sets in. I pace the tiny floor of my cell, only able to take a few steps in one direction before I have to turn again.
The scent of the feces is so strong, I want to vomit, but I try not to breathe through my nose.
When a tiny drop of water splashes on my cheek from above, I try to capture it on my finger and bring it to my lips, my throat parched. It’s not enough. I tilt my head and open my mouth, staring up into the dark, hoping for more. Just one more drop, I beg.
I pace. I sleep. I let my thoughts run wild. I am lost. Alone. Hungry. Thirsty. Gods, please. Don’t let them forget about me down here.