Chapter 8
ELLE
After the tithe, I’m sent back to my—Mae’s—living quarters. Guards are stationed on the inside and the outside of the only door, preventing anyone from entering. Or me from exiting. It’s better than the bare room I was locked in before, but it’s still a cell.
“I’d like to go to the dungeons,” I tell the guard stationed at the door. Like every other time, he ignores me.
The only way that I can leave is if Marik summons me or gives me permission, which has only happened a handful of times.
Thankfully, I don’t have to wait too long before Marik decides to grace me with his presence.
He’s dressed in his usual uniform of black, the crown of twisted metal branches perfectly placed atop his head.
It’s supposed to be his version of the berry crown, but the black metal reminds me of his flames.
He looks devastatingly handsome.
It’s a shame he’s the fucking devil.
“I’d like to go to the dungeons,” I repeat once he’s inside the door.
“No,” he says dismissively. “We have a meeting.”
I freeze. A meeting? So far, I have yet to see Cora, or any visitors he’s been leaving me to go see.
He’s been careful not to say anything around me that might give me some clue about the state of the kingdom.
The only exception has been the tithe. But it’s not like he could do that without me.
The citizens would have asked questions if Mae hadn’t been there.
“With whom?”
He leans against the foyer wall, surveying his nails. “It doesn’t matter. Go get ready,” he says, not even sparing a glance at me.
I plant my feet. “Who, Marik?”
He huffs a sigh of impatience as he picks something from his nail bed. “Cora. Get ready.”
My body moves without my permission, taking me to the bathroom.
It’s pointless trying to fight it anymore, so I don’t.
No matter how hard I scream internally, nothing ever happens.
I have no control, and I’m beginning to hate myself for it.
Logically, I know this is Marik’s fault.
But I can’t help but blame myself for not being strong enough to fight it.
I watch my hand open the bathroom drawer to find the blade tucked under the washcloths. “As are you, as am I,” my lips murmur as I etch the mark into my forearm.
The first time Marik forced me to do this, my magic revolted in my skin.
Ivan warned me of the signs of dark magic, and this reeked of it.
As does the necklace that’s shackled around my throat.
They both go against everything the Mother intended when she blessed us with magic.
Black magic seeks to harm, to control, to manipulate.
All must offer a sacrifice to wield it—and that sacrifice is often blood. And there is always a greater cost.
Being controlled by dark magic to do more dark magic…I wanted to shred my soul from my body. But now? I’ve done it so many times that it just feels like getting dressed. And that horrifies me even more.
With the sigil etched in my skin, Mae looks back at me in the mirror. She was always so beautiful.
I detest the sight of her. Because it’s not her. It’s me trapped in her body.
I walk from the bathroom on my own, a small victory. Marik still stands by the front door, picking lint from his black coat.
He looks up when he hears my footsteps. “My wife,” he says with a shit-eating, pearly-white grin that makes my skin crawl. He holds his arm out to me, but before he can force me to loop my arm in his, I move forward and force myself to do it.
I’ve come to realize that it’s easier for me to just go along with Marik.
No matter how hard I fight it, he can still force me to do whatever he wants.
And as much as I hate to admit it, doing it myself is the only way I can have any semblance of control.
Even if it’s still not my choice. But I try to tell myself it is. Sometimes it works. Mostly, it doesn’t.
His arm is cold against mine. Colder still is the smile on his face as he pulls me from the wing and into the nearly empty castle.
Marik’s guards refuse to look at me whenever we pass.
He leads us to a private office on the backside of the castle.
Two guards stand silently, one on each side of the door, faces sober and impassive.
Marik’s hand brushes against the small of my back as he opens the door and ushers me inside the room. It makes me move faster.
Light filters through the floor-to-ceiling window along the back wall, landing on Cora’s silhouette. She turns as we enter.
Eyes white as bone land on me. A chill spreads through me. I want to run. Far.
Two armchairs sit side-by-side in front of her desk. Marik takes a seat on the right, his lanky frame somehow dwarfed by the oversized chair. He gestures to the chair beside him.
“Sit,” he commands, but his invisible touch is absent. I play nice and do it anyway.
“Hello, Elle,” Cora says coolly, her gaze piercing my very soul.
My entire body is rigid with fear and loathing. “Fuck you,” I spit.
She sighs and leans back in her chair. The sunlight dances along her glossy black hair, and it feels odd that the sun would deign to shine upon her. “Didn’t anybody teach you how to treat your elders?”
Anger is a constant companion. I hold on to it with every ounce of strength I can muster. It’s so much better than the empty void of depression. “Fuck. You.”
Her eyes narrow to slits.
“Ignore her,” Marik says coolly. “Let’s discuss.”
“You think it’s a good idea to have her in this meeting?” Cora asks, gaze still fixed on me.
“I can control her.”
My body tenses at his response, my fingers gripping the worn armrest.
“You’d better hold the leash tight,” she says with a grin.
Stop reacting, Marik’s voice says in my head. That’s what she’s looking for.
I blink in stunned silence. Did he just…give me advice?
“Give me the updates,” he says, ignoring her comment.
She looks like she wants to say more about me and the collar around my neck, but she turns to him instead.
“Witches have been placed near every major city and human town. House Ursidae has been a problem. They refuse to let Annika and Mina stay on their grounds. Houses Panthera and Canis have been compliant, though.”
Marik nods as he takes this in.
Witches in every city…in every court…around humans…
Cora continues, “Casualties have been minimal, so far. There has been some pushback from the citizens regarding the assimilation of the witches, but they’ve been dealt with.”
“Wh—” My mouth slams shut.
Cora looks at me, her eyes twinkling. “Cat got your tongue?”
I glare at her.
“I told you I could control her,” Marik says. “Continue.”
Her jaw ticks at the order, but she complies. “Like I said, pushback has been minor, but something needs to be done about Ursidae.”
“I’ll handle it. Make sure you control your witches, Cora. We don’t want the citizens getting hurt or to begin protesting this. And be careful with the humans. If harm comes to them, the hybrids will not respond well. Our grip on the kingdom is already tenuous.”
Her gaze sharpens, eyes somehow getting lighter as the dark aura around her strengthens.
“Watch how you speak to me, boy. Did you forget who’s running things here? I’m working with you to be polite. I can raze this court and all its land to the ground.”
Marik’s hand grips his knee, but his face remains impassive as he says, “It would not be in your interest if you want a people to rule. Remember what happened with the Fae? She wasn’t too happy with you, was she? Let’s not forget who’s in control.”
I blink as I try to piece together what he’s saying. I had assumed Cora was responsible for the fall of the Fae, but I have no clue what he’s talking about…Who wasn’t too happy with Cora after that? Who is in control?
They stare at each other for another moment. Would it be too much to hope that they’ll just wipe each other out right now? But Cora’s black aura dims and she relaxes her shoulders. “How was the tithe?” she asks.
Marik’s foot twitches on the ground next to mine. I want to stomp on it. Or better yet, nail it to the ground.
“Fine. Most citizens came. Those that didn’t were found and arrested.”
She studies something on the desk in front of her—a report of some kind, I think—her pointer finger tracing the border. “You placed ten in the dungeons?”
He nods in confirmation.
“Good,” she says, circling something on the report. I squint, hoping to glean any information that I can, but it’s no use. The print is too small for me to read from here.
“Can I see them?” I ask, surprised that Marik let me get the question out.
Marik glances at me. “I don’t—” he starts, but Cora holds her hand up, silencing him in one motion.
It appears I’m not the only one with a leash, I fire at him before I can think better of it.
“Actually, I think that would be wise. Marik, you’re the one who put them there.
Let them see their High Queen showing them some compassion.
We need to release them in the next couple of days anyways.
Let them tell their stories. Let them spread the fear of what happens when you don’t listen to the High Crown, then let them tell the story of their High Queen visiting them.
Show them we are a firm, but empathetic Crown. ”
Marik nods. “I’ll take her down there today.”
She waves him off. “Let her go by herself. If you have such control over her, it shouldn’t be a problem. Right?” she asks, her eyes twinkling again. “In fact, let her go now. It’s high time we caught up on personal matters, wouldn’t you say?”
She stares at him, a new look in her eyes. The same look from the night Marik was crowned High King.
Hunger. Desire.
Gross.
I stand and turn toward the door. They don’t take their eyes off each other.
“Guard!” Marik calls, eyes locked on Cora. “Escort her to the dungeons. Don’t want the little fawn getting lost, do we?”