Chapter 22
Silas isawake when I open my eyes, his dark gaze piercing and full of an emotion I haven’t seen on him ever. Emotions aren’t necessarily his strong suit—except for the menacing kind pushing him into action and violence.
I roll my head from side to side to take the strain out of my neck before sitting up and taking inventory of my body. A few new bruises bloom along my abdomen and jaw where they used me as a punching bag, but apart from that, it’s mostly older aches from the first few days in this dungeon.
My head clears a little faster this time, a small mercy I thank Shaelak for.
“Are you coherent?” Silas asks without delay. None of us asks if we’re all right anymore because none of us ever is. Ten days of torture will do that to a fairy. Especially one lacking their usual ability to heal fast. It’s the first time I understand Ayna’s frustration with her human body. Only, while she used to see herself as weak, for me it has always been a special sort of strength, putting yourself in harm’s way full-knowingly that one good blow could cause pain for weeks or even months if bones are broken.
“Enough to tell it’s the middle of the day.” I glance around to find Royad asleep and Astorian sitting in the corner of his cell, a tray of food beside him, which he hasn’t touched. “Royad?”
“Been out for a full day. Astorian was the first to wake this time.” Silas gestures at the male with the stringy auburn hair. Gods, even the formidable warrior doesn’t appear as intimidating with hunched shoulders and gaze lowered to the ground. If it weren’t for the constant glint of vengeance in his eyes, I’d be inclined to believe he’s broken under the pain they expose us to on a regular basis. He even has a fresh burn mark on his forearm, something they’d done only to me so far.
I absently trace my fingers over the angry skin where they planted a white-hot iron poker the other day.
When I woke last, Silas wasn’t in his cell, and when they brought him back, he was far from coherent, blood trickling down his chin from a split lip, and curling over himself as he tried to walk into his cell on his own two feet. A fresh knife wound graces his side as well.
Those human bastards. If they’d at least tell us what they want from us, but they basically simply enjoy hurting fairies is what it seems like.
Royad is the only one not sporting any fresh injuries, and I thank the gods for that in particular if there’s nothing else to thank them for.
“Shall I eat, or shall I refuse?” Astorian picks at the stale bread on his tray, lifting his head as he studies me getting to my feet with a wince. “Got you bad last time, didn’t they?”
I don’t bother confirming. The way my body has turned into one big bruise speaks for itself.
“Stop pitying yourselves and listen.” Silas’s voice is more animated than I’ve heard him use since the day he swore to break King Erina’s neck if he ever gets his hands on him.
Stepping up to the bars to check on Royad, who lies close by the fence separating our cells, I nod at Silas.
“I saw her, Myron. Ayna is here.”
The world turns silent as I hold my breath.
“What do you mean, here?” Astorian beats me to it. “What is the Queen of Crows doing down in the dungeon? Did they lock her up, too?”
Whatever hope came to life a moment ago leeches from my chest where fear is spreading like a plague.
“Shut up, Astorian,” I snap at the fairy general. “Let him speak.” Before I lose my mind.
“While you all were mercifully napping in your own filth, Erina brought Ayna down here to see you if I understood correctly.” He purses his lips for a heart-stilling moment before continuing. “And fuck me, she shattered when she knelt in front of my cell and realized I wasn’t you.”
Every cell in my body revolts at the thought of Ayna in pain—any sort of pain.
“Did you talk to her? What did she say?” My pulse is pounding in my throat, my entire system on alert as if that would bring her back so I could hear her voice rather than Silas’s retelling of it.
“Not much. Mainly, she was searching for you. She begged you to wake up.” He shrugs awkwardly.
And I failed her again. I didn’t sense her, didn’t react to her the way I used to with my full fae senses at my disposal.
“Was she all right? Any injuries? Was she in shackles?” Because it doesn’t matter that I am in this dungeon as long as she is all right.
“She looked better than the last time I saw her. All dressed in finery. No injuries that I’m aware of.”
Thank Shaelak. I sit down against the wall with the window and stare at the bars in front of me, forcing one calming breath after the other through my nose until I can think clearly, then turn to face Astorian, who’s still toying with the piece of bread in his fingers.
The male inclines his head with recognition as if to say that we found her. That if Ayna is here, his mate should be, too.
“Was Ephegos with them?” he asks, pouring the cup of water on his tray into the drain at the edge of his cell. He’s made his choice. No more drugged water.
“No sign of the traitor Crow. But Herinor was with her.”
“Herinor?” Royad joins the conversation as he wakes from his drug-induced rest. He seems more alert than any of us after waking up, but the bruise covering his eye where it’s swelling shut tells me he was in for a treat as well.
“Apparently, he is loyal to Ephegos now,” is Astorian’s conclusion. “Not that I know who this Herinor is.” He places the cup back on the tray, plopping a piece of bread into it like it was a game.
“One of the oldest Crows who crossed the ocean with us,” Silas responds, unaware of how little I want Astorian to know everything about my people.
“You mean one of the murdering, raping, looting monsters who were the cause of the curse?” Royad adds as he sits against the wall in a mirror of my own position. “Exactly that.”
Astorian’s brow rises as his gaze bounces between the three of us. “Do I need to understand what that means?”
I shake my head. “The only thing you need to understand is that I thought he was on my side. He helped guard Ayna at the palace in the Seeing Forest.” He betrayed me like Ephegos and half of my people is what I don’t say. Astorian is a smart fairy; he can read between the lines.
Before we can deepen the topic, the door flies open, and in marches General Katrijanov, his blue and black uniform perfectly pressed and his boots as polished as his shaved head. His gaze finds us in the half-light like a shark scenting blood, and he stops a few paces away from my cell.
“Your presence is requested.”
Before I can ask where and for what, the two guards who usually handle us when pulling us from the cells step up and unlock my door. The clicking of the lock comes with the same ambivalence of fear and relief as every time.
“Where are you taking him?” Royad demands as they grab my arms and lift me to my feet while I let myself slip as much as possible to make it harder for them, to mislead them a little so they don’t realize I’m relatively stable and strong today.
“There’s something His Majesty needs his help with,” Katrijanov says with that sneer and a glint of anticipation in his cold blue eyes I’ve become familiar with. It’s the same expression he has before landing an especially brutal blow whenever we’re strapped to the table in the chamber at the back of the dungeon. The shouts of agony of Silas and Astorian when it’s their turn will haunt my dreams for all eternity, but it’s Royad’s screams that break me. If I could trade places with him when they pick him up for questioning as they call it, I’d happily trade places every single time just to spare the one person who has never stopped believing in me.
“It will be all right,” I call at him over my shoulder as they drag me away.
Even if I can’t technically lie, this lie I can tell, as long as I don’t amend that by all right I mean anything but us.
I can tell by the look on Royad’s face that he sees right through it.