Chapter Fifteen
ELYSSARA
The dreaded groan of my cell’s gate rouses me from slumber—a relatively peaceful sleep with the restorative properties of my magic having healed many of my broken bones and ripped flesh. The same cannot be said for my mind. Or my heart.
Vessira peers down at me, her deep-brown eyes narrowing in time with her snarling mouth. “Wakey wakey, Gutter Rat. Time for another dining experience with His Majesty,” she laughs cruelly, as if she knows this dinner includes more than a meal and conversation.
“Well, I already have this wonderful dress to wear, so I suppose we can just head straight there,” I snap sarcastically.
The heaviness of sleep dulls my senses, and I don’t even register her movements, when—
CRACK!
Her backhand snaps across my mouth. The unmistakable taste of blood blooms across my tongue and coats my teeth.
I smile a maniacal, crazed thing, split lip and mouth full of blood only adding to my chaos. “Or would you rather me go naked this time?”
I will endure.
I will endure.
I will endure.
Vessira yanks me up by the chains Correk reluctantly fastened back in place. “If it was up to me, whore,” she spits, “you wouldn’t be here at all.”
“Well, lucky for me it’s not up to you. I hope His Majesty likes scars,” I say sarcastically, winking. I want her unassuming. I want her feeling like she’s in power.
“I wouldn’t let my king see you like that—it would be a sign of disrespect,” she spits, and begins to drag me by the chains on my wrists across the gritty dungeon floors.
And that’s when I close my eyes.
I control my breath as she pulls me up the first step.
I still my mind when she slams me into the wall.
I slow my heartbeat until I can hear the steady hum reverberate through my bones.
“Open your eyes, you weak rat. It’s far too soon for the fun to be over,” she taunts, assuming I’m losing consciousness.
But I keep them closed.
Because the hum is there again, steady beneath the terror.
Vessira yanks on my chains, an attempt to wake me.
But I have other plans.
“Duskae,” I whisper. “Grant me your power.”
Vessira mumbles something, but I don’t hear.
Because a distant voice whispers, quiet but clear, “Always, my daughter.”
And fiery, molten magic sparks to life in my veins. I channel it, just as I do with my Lightborne magic until it pools in my palm like a spark, waiting for me to command it into a wildfire.
Flame. Duskae’s magic is a wildfire?
I urge the magic out, pushing it towards Vessira with almighty force.
A channel of fiery light blazes from my chained hands, and hits Vessira straight in her chest, blasting her up the stairs and into Kryntar Castle’s halls. She cries out, agonized, confused, disoriented, and I don’t try to stop the smile that stretches across my face.
Vessira’s muscular frame collides with the obsidian wall of the castle.
Something cracks on impact—bone or stone, I don’t know.
Her breathing comes in ragged pants, fogging against the cold floor of this unholy place.
I pull myself to my feet, chains obliterated, and stalk towards her with a power that will not be tamed.
I loom over her, just as she did to me, because I want her infinitesimally small. I want her cowering from my shadow. I want her afraid.
I brace my palms on my knees and lean close to her face.
I imbue venom and malice into every word, “It is a coward who inflicts violence on those who cannot defend themselves. I am no rat in your gutter, Vessira. I am the daughter of gods, and not even your pathetic chains will hold me. No, Vessira, I am the wolf at your campfire, circling, waiting for the perfect moment to bare my teeth and rip your fucking throat out.”
Feral, animalistic rage floods me, and Vessira’s eyes are wide with shock. With fear.
She stammers, unable to comprehend what in the Stars has just happened. “But— But, they’re lillath,” she breathes, panicked.
“Oh, Vessira… I’m a deity. You should bow before me and beg for my mercy, lest my wrath know no bounds and turn you into nothing more than dust on the wind,” I say with condescending power, relishing every heartbeat she lives in fear of me.
I seize her chin between my hands, forcing her gaze to mine, “Lillath is like you, Vessira—a petty inconvenience with no real power at all.”
I shove her face into the obsidian walls with a force that has a strangled cry ripping from her throat. She says nothing, only looks at me in terror.
“Take me to get dressed for dinner, dog. I have an appointment to attend,” I bite, waving my hand impatiently.
It’s the first time I notice the guards—retreating, uncertain.
They don’t approach, but their weapons are raised in defense.
I spot Correk standing behind them, guard uniform on, and weapon drawn, though he doesn’t look ready to fight.
He looks like he’s playing a part. He winks at me, and I can’t help but notice the smirk that tilts up his mouth.
Vessira scrambles to her feet, taking off in the direction of the chamber I got ready in last time, and I can feel her panic from here, a few paces behind.
I walk with regal authority, emanating power, but underneath my performance, my hands tremble at my sides and my breath comes out shaky and irregular.
Because despite everything, I have no idea if I’ve just revealed secrets that guarantee I live, or sealed my own fate at the gallows.