Chapter 59 Carys
Carys
There’s an incessant drip, drip, drip sound that grates on my nerves.
Cold creeps into my bones, and shivers rack my body.
Peeling my eyelids open takes effort, my arms too heavy, my mind sluggish.
I stare into the darkness, my heart pounding as I fear that I’ve lost my sight.
But slowly I register a faint flicker of a firelight, a candle in the distance.
My joints protest as I push myself up, my hands against a cold, hard surface that has me aching all over.
I lift my hand to rub my achy head, but the cumbersome metal wristband makes the movement awkward. My palms are stiff and gritty from the blood caked on my skin. A sob catches in my throat, a choked sound echoing in the small space as my memory returns in a dizzying rush.
Ellynne is dead. I’ve known her my whole life.
She’s always been more friend than servant, exuding as much confidence as the queen herself.
I already miss her cheeky wit and exuberant dedication.
The tug of her hands through my hair and the godsawful fortunes she told.
I’ll never see the glee on her face at the prospect of fresh gossip or hear the wildly inappropriate retellings of her sexual conquests again.
My gut lurches, and I scrub my palms against my lap, desperately hoping to remove the blood of the woman who had so lovingly served me.
After Lowri—Eefa—snatched the necklace from my neck, she slammed something hard against my temple. She could’ve killed me.
She should’ve killed me.
I’d trade my life any day to save Ellynne, my mother. Aneirin.
The death toll continues to grow. Their blood is on my hands.
There’s a clang and the terrible, grating sound of metal against stone.
A small flame shines in the darkness and heavy boots thud against the stone floor, growing louder as a figure approaches.
My heart speeds up, and I scoot on my rump until my back connects with the wall. Moisture seeps into my dress.
My eyes adjust to the dark, and I make out the silhouette of prison bars as the slide open. But this is not the brig.
“Hello, Princess.” The voice is familiar, yet foreign at the same time. “Sorry it had to be this way, but you didn’t exactly make this easy.”
I glare at Iywan, his face slightly illuminated by the lantern he holds as he steps into my cell. Lowri stands at his side. “What do you want from me?” I spit as bitter betrayal fills my mouth.
“Your cooperation.” He says it like we’re having a cup of tea on a regular morning.
Uncertainty furrows my brows; I’m not sure what to make of his statement.
“Tell me everything you know about magic.”
My laughter echoes in the cell, and Iywan blinks and leans back. “I hate to dash your hopes, Iywan, but I’m almost certain that you know more about magic than I do.”
A small muscle in his cheek twitches and he clicks his tongue. “I wouldn’t lie in your situation, Princess.” Every time my title is spoken, it’s even more of a mockery. “What is in that godsdamned book of fairytales?”
I sneer at him. “Fairytales, you pretentious fool.” I pray my voice sounds steady enough.
“And The Book of Agryna?”
My heart jumps. “Another book of fairytales.”
Drip, drip, drip.
It takes an eternity for Iywan to speak again. “Fetch Briony.”
Lowri nods and hurries back toward the exit, leaving me with a simmering Iywan. “Can you summon your powers?”
There’s no point in hiding it. He knows. They’ve removed my necklace, imprisoned me. “No, but if I could, I would set fire to your hideous face.”
Iywan tsks. “No need for violence, Princess. I only want to unlock your full potential. You’ve been complaining about not having the power you so rightfully deserve.
Am I right, Carys Meredyth fa Rhodri, Princess of Erleya, sole heir to the throne?
What would you say if I told you that you weren’t the sole heir to the throne? ”
“I’d say that you’re lying out of your despicable mouth.”
He grins and his white teeth practically glint in the dim light. It’s a grin that promises unpleasantries. I immediately regret my words. “Be that as it may,” he drawls. “We need each other, so you’d better stop hurling useless insults at me and cooperate.”
Boots sound against the ground again as Lowri and Briony approach. “You called, Lord Iywan?”
Gods, how I hate her sugary little voice.
“I wanted to properly introduce you to the princess.” Iywan doesn’t look away from me. “Princess, meet Briony, High Priestess of Lugda. She’s going to help us reclaim power and restore Erleya to its former glory.”
I roll my eyes. “Hells, what are you talking about?”
“Briony is going to help you unlock your powers so we can dismantle the wards of Fiada Purlieu and reclaim the power that once belonged to the realm. Our worlds were never meant to be separated. Those wards, which were erected to banish Enidwen and keep the Otherworld out, have drained Erleya. You will know this all in time, but first, you need to learn how to use your powers, and you’re going to tell us what we need to know about magic. Do we have an accord?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I see we’re going to have to do this the hard way.” He sighs and nods to Briony.
It’s all she needs to step forward and crouch in front of me. Her smile is no less sweet than it’s always been. “I really don’t want to do this, Your Highness.”
“Do we have an accord?” Iywan repeats, firmer this time.
“Not on your sorry arse.”
Briony presses a hand to my shoulder, and blinding pain shoots down my arm. I bite the inside of my cheek and refuse to scream as my vision goes bright white.
“Enough,” says Iywan, and Briony removes her hand. The pain ceases as though it was never there.
I draw in a shaky breath and press my cuffed hand to my shoulder.
“That’s just a sample.” Iywan is too pleased with himself.
My blood runs cold. Briony stands and steps back, regarding me.
“I’ll have someone bring you fresh clothing in the morning. You’ll start training then. And you will tell us what we need to know.”
I press my lips together.
“Welcome to the Zenith, Princess.”