Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
It didn’t take more than a few moments to explore the confines of her cell.
True to Jaxon’s word, a thin blanket and new shift were folded at the foot of the cot.
Araya shed the wet slip, pulling the plain, woolen shift over her head with cold, clumsy fingers.
The rough material scratched against the raw skin on her chest, but she felt more dressed than she had in weeks.
The only other fixture in the small cell was the earthenware basin bolted to its wooden stand.
A battered but clean chamber pot was tucked under the cot.
When had this cell last held a fae prisoner?
Araya craned her neck, pressing as close to the iron bars as she could without burning herself.
But the corridor beyond her cell was dark, and no matter how she strained her ears there was no sound from any other prisoners or even the guards that surely must be here.
She was completely alone.
Araya sank down on the edge of the cot, wrapping the thin blanket around her shoulders.
She pressed her hand flat against her chest, stretching her mind out toward the bond.
Magic prickled under her skin like a warning, but she persisted, pushing until her whole body was shaking and cold sweat soaked the neckline of her shift.
With a gasp that was almost a sob, Araya dropped her hand, sinking back against the wall. At least the bond was still there, even if it did remain frustratingly out of reach. Araya closed her eyes, trying to take comfort in that.
“Miss Starwind?”
Araya blinked, startled to find herself lying down. She could have sworn she just closed her eyes for a moment, but her mouth was dry and her eyes blurry as she blinked up at the other fae female.
“Belanis,” she said, her voice raspy with sleep. “What’s going on? Do you know what happened?”
“No, Miss.” Belanis glanced pointedly at the barred opening, her face carefully blank. “All I know is that Master Shaw wants you made presentable.”
Araya sat up, wincing as her neck twinged from the thin pillow. “You have to know something,” she argued. “You’re not in a cell.”
“I don’t know anything!” Belanis took a step back, her eyes wide. “I can’t lie. The same as you. And we shouldn’t be talking about this—”
“I don’t care,” Araya hissed.
She lurched to her feet, grabbing the other female’s wrist hard enough to make Belanis gasp.
“Was Jaxon happy?” Araya demanded. “Is he angry? Did they bring in another high-profile prisoner—”
“Stop!” Belanis’s voice cracked, her free hand scrabbling at Araya’s fingers. “Miss, please—he’ll punish me—”
Araya recoiled as if burned, releasing the other female. Belanis stumbled back, her bright blue eyes wide as she cradled her wrist to her chest.
“I don’t know anything,” she repeated, her voice shaking like she was trying not to cry. “And even if I did I couldn’t tell you—you know this! Did you forget everything? We don’t ask questions. We don’t draw attention to ourselves. We obey and keep quiet. That’s how we survive.”
“It doesn’t have to be like that.” Araya took a half-step forward, reaching out again. “I’ve seen it. A world where we don’t live under their thumb. There are other choices—”
“Choices?” Belanis let out a brittle laugh. “You’re one to talk, Miss Starwind. You played the game better than any of us—you were his student, his apprentice, his bond. You had every privilege…and you threw it all away.”
She bent down, picking up the sodden shift Araya had discarded on the floor. She picked it up, dangling the silken material from one finger.
“I guess you’re just like the rest of us now, though,” she said coldly. “Not all of us reap such rewards for entertaining the Shaws.”
Araya’s stomach lurched. “What are you talking about?”
“Did you think you were special?” Belanis dropped the sodden shift back to the floor with a wet plop, turning to the basin. Water splashed, steaming as she poured it from the earthenware pitcher she must have brought in with her. “We all get called to his rooms, Miss Starwind. His father’s too.”
No. Araya recoiled, her heart suddenly in her throat. No. She couldn’t possibly mean—
“If you’d been smarter—” Belanis set a hairbrush and a cake of soap down next to the basin with more force than necessary. “If you cared about anyone other than yourself, you would have tried harder to make him happy. He hurts us less when he’s happy.”
Araya sucked in a sharp breath. “Belanis—”
But the other female’s face was set, her shoulders rigid as she finished laying out her supplies.
“Get dressed, Miss Starwind,” she said. “Before someone else pays the price for your defiance. Again.”
Araya could only watch as Belanis turned her back, shoving the key into the lock and shouldering the barred door open to protect her hands. She kicked it closed behind her, not meeting Araya’s gaze as she slid the lock home with a screech of metal.
Araya sat on the edge of the cot a long time after her footsteps faded away, staring at the steam rising from the basin. What Belanis had said—she didn’t want to believe it. But Araya couldn’t deny the cold flicker of understanding that slithered down her spine. Neither one of them could lie.
She stood, crossing to the basin. The water had gone lukewarm by now, but she cupped her hands, swishing a mouthful to clean her teeth before lathering the blessedly unscented bar of soap and scrubbing her face until the last cobwebs of sleep were cleared away.
Finally, she raked the brush through her hair.
It was long now—longer than she’d ever worn it here.
But when she sectioned it into three and braided it tightly, she almost felt like the scared young female who had walked into Jaxon Shaw’s class at the Aetherium all those years ago.
Lost, and desperate for someone to save her.
But she wasn’t that frightened child anymore.
Araya tied off the end of the braid, straightening her shoulders and folding her hands in her lap as she settled onto the cot to wait.
It wasn’t long before she heard a door open, familiar footsteps echoing off the stone walls. Araya didn’t look up when he came to a halt in front of her cell or even when the key grated in the lock. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of thinking she was waiting eagerly for him.
“Well,” Jaxon said. “Don’t you look nice.” His fingers brushed the woven strands of her braid, toying with the end. “Ready to go?”
Araya’s stomach tightened, the instinct to jerk away from his touch buzzing under her skin. But she forced herself to sit still, her eyes fixed firmly on the floor.
“Look at me,” he said.
She had to. Magic needled at her in warning as Araya lifted her chin as slowly as she dared, finally meeting his gaze.
Jaxon smiled faintly at her, but there was no triumph in his expression.
No anger or irritation. If anything, he looked strained, the skin around his eyes tight with tension.
But that was only to be expected after what happened.
There was nothing she could latch onto to guess whether Loren had escaped or been dragged away in chains or—
Gods, she would know if he’d died, wouldn’t she? Even though she couldn’t reach for the bond, it was still there. She would know. She’d have to.
“Put this on,” Jaxon said.
Araya stared down at the swath of black fabric he’d pressed into her hands, her blood turning to ice in her veins. He’d blindfolded her when they came in, but this—this was a hood. The thick, heavy cloth would cover her entire face, like a prisoner being led to the executioner’s block.
“Don’t make me order you to do it,” Jaxon warned when she hesitated. “I don’t have time for your little rebellions right now, Araya. We’re expected—and you are going to be on your best behavior.”
For a wild heartbeat, Araya considered fighting. She could smash the basin and use one of the shards to slice his throat. The runes carved into her skin prickled in warning, but if she moved fast enough maybe she could kill him before her own magic punished her.
But if she failed...who would pay the price for her defiance? Belanis? Or some other fae servant whose name Araya didn’t even know?
Araya let out a shuddering breath. She couldn’t be responsible for that.
She unfolded the hood, carefully smoothing out the heavy fabric before sliding it over her head.
Darkness surrounded her—dense and suffocating in a way the shadows had never been.
Fabric brushed her lashes, sticking to her nose and mouth with every shallow breath that sawed out of her lungs.
It was too tight, smothering her even as Jaxon’s fingers moved deftly along the edge, tightening it bit by bit like she wasn’t trembling under his hands.
“Easy, Starling,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around her waist. “I’ve got you.”
He guided her through the door, careful not to let her scrape her bare skin against the iron bars. Magic rushed over her skin as they passed through, turning to walk back down the hall the way he had come.
Araya tried to calm her pounding heartbeat, but the hood pressed against her nose and mouth with every shallow, panicked breath she took.
She couldn’t see the hall. Couldn’t see Jaxon.
There was nothing but the darkness pressing against her skin and the weight of his hands on her, owning every step she took.
“A few steps here,” he warned. “Through here—that’s it, careful.”
“Commander Shaw,” an unfamiliar voice greeted them. “They’re ready for you inside.”
“Wonderful,” Jaxon said.
His grip on her shifted, his fingers curling tightly around her bicep as they stepped through another doorway.
“Now Starling,” he murmured, his voice pitched for her ears alone. “Remember where your loyalties lie in here. Don’t embarrass me.”
“Attempting to influence our witness, Commander Shaw?”
Araya jumped, Baran Pryce’s voice cutting through her like ice. Her heart slammed against her ribs, frantic and uneven. The last time she’d been in a room with Baran Pryce, they’d strapped her down and carved into her with iron needles—