Chapter 68
Carys
I promise that I won’t scream. Over and over, I try and fail to swallow the agony, to fight the pain and avoid giving them the satisfaction of breaking me.
Over and over again, Eefa mars me and Briony mends me. Iywan stands by, ordering each cruel action. Sleep hardly comes, and I swear I’m beginning to hallucinate.
A day ago, I awoke in my cell with my wrists and ankles bound to each segment of a wooden X-shaped contraption that keeps me upright.
My wrists chafe, and the muscles in my legs have turned to gelatin, the weight of my exhausted body putting pressure on my shoulders.
My very soul aches, and every time Eefa carves into my flesh, I hope with all my heart that I’ll bleed out.
Today, I’ve not been let out of the contraption, and I wait impatiently to relieve the overwhelming, painful pressure in my bladder that’s starting to outdo the pain in my shoulders.
The drip, drip, drip does nothing to help, and for the life of me, I cannot figure out where the bloody sound is coming from or how the cell isn’t flooded by now.
I wait. And wait. And wait, but no one comes.
Time ticks by, lasting eons. I rehearse my resistance.
I rehearse all the ways I can defy them.
All the ways to say no to the same requests I’ve gotten over and over again.
Forcing me to translate the ancient texts hasn’t been as easy as they thought it would be.
Neither has getting me to summon my powers.
Every time I try, Aneirin’s screams echo in my head, and the guilt consumes that fire inside of me.
Drowsiness is starting to settle over me when the heavy metal door slams. My head jerks up and I clench my muscles as my bladder threatens to release.
Soon … soon I can relieve myself and get back to torture as usual.
To think that I find comfort in being able to use the chamber pot, only to be cut into again …
It’s so ridiculous, it nearly makes me laugh.
This is my life. Unbelievable.
“Good morning,” Eefa sings as she waltzes toward me with Briony in tow. No Iywan. I didn’t see him yesterday either. What the fuck is going on above ground? What has become of the kingdom, of the castle? Of my mother?
I catch the glint of the dagger as Eefa pulls it from her belt. My heart pounds hard against my ribs. Eefa steps up to me with purpose in her stride. I’m taller than her, yet she intimidates me more than anyone over six feet ever could.
“We need that translation,” she says smoothly. “No more faffing around. What does the passage about the prophecy say? And don’t leave anything out.”
I stare down at her. No point in wasting my breath on lies; I know what’s coming.
Eefa lifts the blade, and my pulse jumps in fearful anticipation.
Instead, she pulls a fistful of my hair that has come unraveled from its braid and saws through it, delight in her wild gaze.
My breath stalls as ebony and gold strands fall to the ground.
She grabs another fistful from the other side and does the same, then again for good measure.
I stare at the hair on the floor, my heart aching in Ellynne’s stead—she would’ve loathed this awful moment.
The next slice of Eefa’s knife goes straight down the front of my tunic. The sound of the fabric tearing only heightens my unease, and all my muscles tense as I stand before Eefa and Briony with my torso bare. Gooseflesh breaks out along my skin from the kiss of the air in the dank cell.
“Ee-fa,” Briony punctuates, but Eefa doesn’t even turn.
Eefa drags her gaze slowly over my frame before she lifts the dagger and presses it against the base of my throat. I draw in a sharp breath and hold it, terrified to move. Eefa grins up at me. Her grin is so inhuman that I shudder, and the blade pierces my skin. I groan through my teeth.
“Oh, the many times I’ve coaxed that very sound from you, darling,” she says with an airy laugh. A sensual smirk plays across her lips. “Only under … different circumstances.”
Repulsion crawls in my blood, turning my stomach, but I force myself not to look away from the predatory beast before me.
“Funny how you long to be worshipped—always taking on another lover, calling to your servants at all hours of the night, and drinking yourself into a stupor at any given moment. You claim to have rescued an innocent woman from the brig, only to keep her away from her friends and family, from her home, just so she could make you a bloody dress. You don’t give a damn about how your actions affect others …
Yet you’re offered ultimate power, and you choose now to show weakness? Heart of a warrior, my arse.”
Heart of a warrior. Ellynne’s words on her lips causes a different kind of flush to rise within me.
A trickle of warm blood runs from the small cut on my neck before cold steel replaces it, this time whispering across my abdomen. “You really think everyone is so obsessed with you, don’t you? Me? Wynn? Callum?”
My heart clenches and I squeeze my eyes shut as if that can eradicate the image of Callum’s throat being slit from my mind.
“How many others have you cajoled into your bed for fun?” Then her voice suddenly changes, becoming raspier—a familiar, soothing voice. Instead of Eefa before me, it’s Ellynne’s wavy red hair and curvaceous figure I’m staring at.
My heart stammers as I force air into my lungs.
“Eefa, enough.” I’ve never heard Briony speak with such firmness.
“Master Iywan gave me the lead on this one, Priestess.” She keeps her focus on me as she speaks in Ellynne’s voice.
I fight to keep my tears at bay. I can’t do this. I cannot look at Ellynne’s face, but as I turn away, Eefa forces my face back to hers.
“If only Erleya knew what a whore their future queen is.”
Future queen … My chest constricts painfully. “My mother,” I say breathlessly. “What’s become of my mother?”
“Alive.” Eefa shrugs, unbothered. “Sort of. Kept alive by magic.” She wiggles her fingers, delight on her face. I turn an accusatory look Briony’s way, but she shows no sign of guilt. Figures.
Ellynne’s olive green eyes morph back to bright green, her red hair replaced by honey blond, her curves lessening until the face and body of Eefa stands before me again.
“What do you want with me if you have her blood or whatever?”
“Well …” Eefa’s grin spreads slowly across her face.
“Her blood provides the medium we need, just in case. But it can only tear down the wards that protect the Veil; it does nothing to the Veil itself. Your living, breathing body provides the tether and the command we need to permeate the Veil and summon the enchantress.”
“What makes you lot think that I will cooperate with this world domination nonsense once I have Enidwen’s power. Aren’t you afraid I’d just smite you?”
“No.” She flips the dagger in her hand and catches it casually without even looking. “Not when you’re leashed like the rabid dog that you are.” She homes in on my wrist and my blood chills as I put together everything they’ve told me about this piece of metal.
“Leash?” I whisper.
“Yes …” She slowly drags the dagger over my skin, drawing imaginary patterns. The blade grazes me every now and then, and even though I tense every muscle in my body to avoid shuddering, my body acts on its own accord, and blood wells beneath the knife.
“Tell me this, Carys. Which of your lovers were you most attached to? Did you call out my name when Callum fucked you?”
I cringe so hard that my shoulders scream at me.
“What did you think of his last words? That he loved you? What a pathetic little puppy dog.”
Poor Callum. Poor Ellynne. I should’ve done more to show them how much I cared about them. But I don’t want Eefa to know how deeply guilt has its claws in me. I muster a smile down at her and say, “And you call me obsessed.”
Ire flares on her face. She draws back her hand and slams the pommel of her dagger into my ribs. I scream as pain bursts across my abdomen and stars dance before me.
“Eefa!” Briony shouts. “Stand down!”
Oh, now she intercedes.
I blink, trying to clear my vision, but Eefa rams the dagger pommel into my ribs again. The air rushes out of me and I’m unable to even catch my breath before she strikes me for a third time. My lungs struggle to inflate, my chest burning from the effort.
Over the roar of my pulse in my ears, I’m able to make out Eefa’s sneering words. “You can fight all you want to, Carys, but with that conduit on your wrist, not only are we immune to your flamewielding, but you’re anchored to Master Iywan.”
So, that’s why they’ve been unbothered by the possibility of me summoning these powers. But … anchored?
The corner of Eefa’s lips twitch upward.
“I can see you thinking … Let me spell it out for you, darling. As long as you wear that, you’re his puppet.
He can will you to do whatever he pleases.
He just hasn’t done it yet because he hoped you would come around on your own.
But by all means, keep fighting. Keep being the stubborn bitch you are.
Soon you will be a vessel for ultimate power, and you won’t be able to do a damn thing of your own volition. Ironic, hmm?”
My body goes numb.
“You might be a Flamewielder, darling, but Master Iywan will wield your very soul.”
Briony swears and storms out of the cell, her footsteps echoing. Each jagged breath sends a shooting pain through my abdomen and my head grows woozy, nausea gnawing on the pit of my stomach.
All the defiance and rage rush out of my body, only to be replaced with icy cold trepidation. Iywan will wield your very soul.
The strong scent of urine fills the cell as warmth spreads down the front of my trousers.
I dare to face Eefa again, and the most satisfied grin stretches across her wicked face while the very last of my dignity is lost along with my bladder control.
Hot tears sear my cheeks as the door slams shut.
I beg Lugda for death to come.