Chapter 27 #2
I keep my expression calm, my features schooled into neutrality, even though my heart is hammering in my chest. Keres hums, his attention shifting as he turns back to his cluttered desk, sorting through a pile of weathered documents with practiced ease.
The moment his back is turned, doubt flickers through me, and I take an involuntary step back, feeling my carefully constructed mask threatening to crack.
Frantic thoughts churn in my mind—did the light reveal my words as truth?
Or had it glimpsed the shadow of my deceit?
I clutch at the fraying threads of my composure and force myself to focus. Whatever the orb saw or hinted at, it wasn’t enough to call me out, at least not yet. I take a steadying breath, willing myself to project confidence I don’t feel. Straightening my posture, I push the uncertainty aside.
For now, it’s all I can do.
“Keres, I—”
Before I can fully form my words, he spins, forcing me to stumble back on instinct.
The glass orb slips from my fingers, shattering against the ground as Keres’s hand clamps around my throat.
The air is driven from my lungs as he forces me back and slams me against a wall.
I hear the soft click of something closing around my neck at the same time as a white-hot agony tears through my body, and the ever-present warmth of magic in my soul shrinks away from it.
“What the fuck, Keres!” My facade splinters, but I snatch at its edges, hauling it close. Doubt may be the only thing that gets me out of this alive.
“Not quite the docile princess you pretend to be. I thought that might be the case.”
“Take this off me right now.” I force the words through gritted teeth. Horror inches its way up my spine as my fingers grip the collar, mapping out the goiteía carved into the metal. It’s like the one they forced Sphinx into, designed to cause weakness. Exhaustion. Burning pain.
Designed to bend a being’s will.
He presses in close, crowding me against the back of the door and slipping a leg between my thighs. It takes all my self-restraint not to show him how far from a docile princess I truly am by ripping his throat out with my teeth.
“I had thought it was odd that the Sorrows would send their only princess to compete in the trials.” A shadow of suspicion crosses his face, twisting his expression.
“Even the North sent a lady. But why would the other kingdoms suddenly send entrants to the trials? They’ve never cared for alliances before. ”
Icy dread grips my heart.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. This is insanity.”
“Well then, let me enlighten you. Something very valuable of mine has gone missing.”
“I know nothing about that,” I say as calmly as possible.
“Do not lie to me!”
“I’m not lying,” I whisper, despising how my words tremble, since it’s not entirely forced this time.
“Oh, Aella.” He says my name affectionately, stroking a hand over my cheek. “I don’t believe you.”
Like the collar, I don’t see the hit coming until it lands, knocking me to the ground. Shock clouds my thoughts, and for a moment I wonder which hurt more: the strike or the fall. But those thoughts scatter as Keres grips my hair, and I choke on a pained gasp.
He pulls me up, and I stumble after him, my body incapable of fighting back as he drags me through another door.
The door Raven and I couldn’t unlock.
The one I had all but forgotten since discovering the secret tunnel.
A sparse room greets me, with windowless stone walls, the only light coming from the soft glow of an aura hanging from the ceiling.
When I see the bed in the center, my stomach drops, and a new fear takes hold.
I try to break the prince’s grip, but with the goiteía collar around my throat, the fight leaves my body.
He shoves me to the ground at the foot of the bed and attaches a chain, which I didn’t see in my earlier panic, to the back of the collar. The momentary relief I feel when he doesn’t throw me on the bed is swiftly burned away by fury. I lunge toward him, but the chain snaps taut, choking me.
“I wouldn’t bother. Not even your resolve is strong enough to break steel.”
“The Sorrows will come for you when they hear of this,” I spit the words at him, knowing they’re not true, but they’re the only defense I have, no matter how weak.
“I’m not concerned about that. Do you want to know why?” He continues before I can tell him exactly where he can shove his thoughts, “Of course you do. It’s because you’re expendable. Disposable. They sent you here, knowing the risks, and they did not care.”
His poisonous words wrap around my chest. They constrict until I struggle to pull in a full breath of air.
It’s not the lie in those words that pierces me.
It’s the truth in them.
Expendable. Disposable. Outcast. Songbird.
“I’m afraid you’re mine now, sweet heart.” He speaks with genuine amusement, crouching down in front of me so that we’re eye to eye. “My little pet princess. If I must torture the information out of you, I will, and I can’t promise I won’t enjoy it.”
My lips curl back in a snarl. “You’re a sick bastard.”
“Many of my companions love that about me. You’ll learn to love it too.” With that, he turns to walk away.
“Keres, you can’t leave me here like this.”
He pauses in the doorway and glances over. A cruel smile mars his lips as he eyes me lasciviously. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave you alone for long.”
The door closes behind him, the snap of the lock resounding through the room like the toll of a death knell.
I collapse against the end of the bed, the collar digging into my skin with every movement.
My hands tremble as I trace the goiteía carved into the metal again, the burning pain a cruel reminder of my vulnerability.
This was always a risk when the decision was made for some of our Flight to stay behind. It was a risk I accepted and planned for. But hope can be as toxic as fear, and I had foolishly thought we would get away with this.
Now that hope has burned away, replaced by bitter disappointment that tastes like ashes in my mouth.
Poison on my tongue.
The necklace Raven gave me hangs heavy where it’s hidden beneath my gown. The deadly dose of nightshade seems to heat within the delicate capsule, reminding me I have a different method of escape.
But I’m not willing to consider that option yet.
I’m not ready to give up.
I force myself to breathe deeply, drawing on the lessons of survival I’ve learned over the years.
This isn’t the first time I’ve faced danger, and it won’t be the last. I think of Raven, of the goodbyes left unsaid.
I think of the Flight, of the risks we took.
I think of the gods, silent and distant, and wonder if they’re watching now.
The despair doesn’t last. It can’t. I won’t let it.
Cold fury seeps into my veins, burning through the fear and doubt. I will not be broken. Not by Keres. Not by anyone.
The gods themselves will have to rip my soul from my body before I’m done.
And they haven’t been seen for centuries.