14. Chapter Fourteen Callum
Chapter Fourteen: Callum
I picked the rag up from the bowl of water, wringing it out slightly before holding it over my left shoulder and squeezing, allowing the water to run over my wounds. I hissed as the water stung every cut. Usually, I would be well on my way to healing, but the iron cuffs around my wrists blocked all access to my magic. That also included the ability to heal more quickly, one every fae possessed. Repeating the process, I strained to reach all of the wounds I could, cleaning the blood from my skin and trying to prevent infection. It took a lot of manipulation to reach as many as I did, but I couldn't cleanse them all now. Not without a shower or bath.
Knowing my time was limited, I refocused my efforts on applying the poultice I managed to make using an old family recipe and covering as many wounds with bandages as possible. I had become quite adept at this process over the year, but as the trials drew nearer, it was becoming a frequent necessity. I could only hope that my circumstances would change under the new reign, but I knew better than to rely on hope alone. There were too many people counting on me to leave it all up to chance .
A knock on my door sounded, and I slipped a loose linen shirt over my head before answering it. On the other side was a homely winter fae, most likely a maid or kitchen girl, her gown showing plenty of wear and repair. “Sir?” she asked quietly, her head bowed as she avoided eye contact with me, her body quivering in fear.
“Yes, how can I help?” I asked her as gently as I could, but I knew the fear was not in response to me, so there wasn’t much I could do to ease her discomfort. I ground my teeth together, the only sign of my temper I had allowed over the last several years.
“T-the Q-Q-Queen is requesting y-your pres-presence in the th-throne room,” she finally stuttered out.
“Thank you. I can find my way on my own,” I assured her, the instant relief on her face sparking more of my anger.
“Thank you, Sir!” she rushed out on a whispered exhalation before turning to disappear before I could change my mind and call her back. Smart girl.
I shut the door and began changing again. Apparently, my day of service wasn't over. Just another indication that the trials and unknown Chosen were hanging heavily over everyone in the palace. Pulling on my winter tunic, the one I was assigned to wear while in the Queen's company, the colors polar opposites to my beloved autumn orange, red, and deep green, I prepared myself mentally for being in the Queen’s presence.
I freshened up in the mirror, making sure nothing was out of place, so I drew as little attention as possible. Satisfied that I'd done the best I could, my appearance a far cry from just a couple of years ago, I squared my shoulders. My face and body were harder and stronger, my eyes lacked any warmth, and my scars formed a destination-less map all over my body. One scar cut across my cheek, through my upper lip, and served as a constant reminder of everything I had lost and could still lose. Those were things I couldn't change; my circumstances had honed me in ways that others could only imagine. I carried the ghosts of decisions that were never mine but ones I had been forced to pay for, in every possible way.
Striding through the halls quickly, I paid little attention to the exorbitant wealth and status that was so prominently on display. The excess had made me physically ill during the early days, just from considering the waste. Now, I just ignored it all because there was nothing I could do to change it or my situation. A state of numbness had overtaken me about a year ago, and it was the only thing keeping me alive and somewhat sane. I clung to it desperately, ignoring anything that threatened to bring me out of it. My days were filled with numbness interspersed with pain, and I was prepared to endure it as long as I needed to.
I paused at the side door to the throne room, the one only servants used, and took a deep breath, locking everything down again. As I entered, I found the Queen on her throne. Her four consorts stood two to each side of her, stoic and unmoving. I entered from behind and approached slowly and quietly so as not to draw attention. Servants bustled about, preparing for the reception for the lost Chosen, followed by a ball.
The Queen yelled directions at the servants, lower fae and humans alike. Her consorts stood without flinching or expression, mindless statues subjected to the Queen's whims like all of us. She abused the powers that were entrusted to her and enjoyed making those around and beneath her suffer. I planted myself along the wall just within her sight, waiting for her to notice me, my own stance mimicking her consorts. As I watched the activity around me, I caught the Queen moving her hands at the same time a human servant carrying a tray of glasses fell.
The glasses shattered, and the human landed on her hands and knees in the middle of the mess, cutting her skin. She started crying, shaking in pain and fear, but no one dared to rush to her aid, not even myself, despite the almost overwhelming urge to assist her. Everyone had learned that to do so would only result in a worse punishment for all those involved. Instead, I clenched my fists. Keeping my anger from my face, I needed to release the tension that built within me somehow. The small movement from my hands was the only outlet I allowed myself in these moments.
The human stayed there on her hands and knees as the Queen laughed out loud, amused with her entertainment. “Clumsy human. How dare you destroy my lovely glasses, making an absolute mess of everything like your kind always does. Whatever shall we do with you?” The Queen's tone remained calm as if she were speaking to a child that had done something amusing.
The servant pushed up off her hands but remained on her knees, her head bowed, not making eye contact. Her shaking was visible across the room, her tears dripping to mix with her blood on the floor. I could smell her fear, and I knew the Queen could as well. She smartly didn't say anything, knowing the Queen was prepared to dismiss anything she could say.
The Queen pushed up to her feet, gliding down the stairs of the dais to stand in front of the servant girl who didn't flinch but trembled even more in terror, her sobs silent. After studying the girl while towering over her bowed form, the Queen laughed and turned to face her consorts. “Bernard, whatever should we do with this worthless human? Do you think she's learned her lesson, or should we show her what happens to those who anger the crown?”
She waited for her winter consort to answer her. His white-haired head remained facing forward and slightly bowed in deference to her, but he spoke with a cruel voice. “Now, if we spared punishment for her, this human, then every other servant would think it was okay not to take the utmost care with all your things, no matter how small or plentiful. I believe it's best to set an example, my Queen.”
The Queen sighed as if resigned to punishing the girl, but her eyes glittered with excitement, and her powerful scent told me she was turned on. I swallowed but still didn't intervene despite wanting desperately to do so, knowing exactly what was coming next.
The Queen turned back to face the girl, her long, slender fingers pulling the girl's face up to hers, caressing her jaw like a mother trying to comfort a wayward child. “Sadly, Bernard is correct. I cannot allow this infraction to go unpunished.” Tears streamed faster down the girl's face even as she kept herself from making eye contact.
The Queen didn't remove her gaze from the girl's face, continuing to caress the girl's cheek while holding out her other hand, palm up to accept her whip. Another servant rushed to place it in her outstretched hand, knowing they'd be punished next if they weren’t quick enough.
Movement on my left drew my attention to a servant whispering fervently to the winter consort, who quickly turned to stride toward the Queen. He began relaying the message as soon as she acknowledged him. Her eyes flashed in annoyance but quickly shuttered. Her reaction wasn’t noticeable to most others, but my survival depended on reading the Queen's moods and avoiding the most violent ones.
I slowly let out the breath I'd been holding in preparation for the beating that was thankfully about to be avoided, my fists relaxing. Never letting my guard down, I remained alert whenever I was near the Queen and her chaotic moods.
The Queen released the human girl, smiling sweetly at her. “It seems you have a fairy Godmother that has pulled the strings of fate to spare you today, but let this be a warning that second chances are not granted in this court.” She turned to a couple of guards, her hands grasping the whip behind her back. “Since fate has taken a shine to you girl, I feel we must really test it. Take her to the wilds immediately. Should she survive there, she can earn her freedom.” The Queen gave a smug smirk as the girl crumbled and sobbed out loud with the declaration. She knew her chances of survival were nonexistent, even with fate on her side, not in the wilds.
The Queen laughed loudly as the guards dragged the girl from the room, turning to head back to her throne as the other slaves rushed to clean the mess from the floor. The one instigated by the Queen for no other reason than she’d been bored. I vowed to myself that I would continue the mission of my parents to destroy the Queen and hold her accountable for all the atrocities she'd ever committed, especially the ones involving the deaths of my family. Not even the transfer of the crown would clear her. I would see her dead regardless, but I knew the Queen well enough by now to know that there was no way she intended to ever step down. She would find a way to stay in power. She wasn’t a fool and always seemed to be one step ahead of her enemies.
I would endure her beatings and her toying with me, no matter how demeaning they were, if it meant that I could garner any sort of edge that would allow me to collapse her reign of terror.
The Queen sat on her throne, watching the room return to order, clearly wanting another mishap. Whatever the winter consort had told her took precedence, and she withheld her evil impulses as she waited impatiently. She leaned to her right, whispering to Bernard again, her agitation leaking through her fa?ade as he shook his head in answer. He then nodded and turned to leave the throne room through the door that I’d entered from. I didn't turn to look at him or meet his eyes despite feeling the angry weight of them as he passed. He didn't dare stop, prolonging his mistress’s orders, but I got the message. He hated me, and we would never be allies. The reason for his hatred was not something I fully understood, though.
Currently, and for the past couple of decades, I had been the Queen's favored plaything. She wanted desperately to break me, and the more I resisted, the more aroused she became. It was a weird form of foreplay for her before she would then use my broken body for her own pleasures, waiting until I could no longer stop her. Despite her efforts, she’d never been able to break my spirit or my resistance. After taking everything from me, she no longer had the leverage to manipulate me.
Before me, it was the winter consort, Bernard, who had been her favorite plaything. For some demented reason, he enjoyed her domination, but his enjoyment robbed the Queen of her own. She truly got off on the fear and destruction of others. Which meant that as long as neither of us backed down from the unspoken challenge, we would continue this bloody dance.
When the servants had finished setting the room, they disappeared from sight, hoping to further avoid the Queen's fickle moods. I didn't leave with them, knowing I hadn't yet been dismissed and doing so would only further anger her. So, we waited, me against the wall still as a statue and hoping she would forget she’d called for me, and the Queen sitting on her throne, her impatience growing the longer we sat there. I had no idea what exactly we were waiting on, but my guess would be the Chosen who had been residing on Earth, her unknown status putting the Queen's plans at risk, whatever those plans might be. It wasn't like she shared her thoughts with me during our interactions .
A rustle of activity heard on the other side of the throne room doors had the Queen straightening in her throne, her face losing any trace of thoughts or emotions. Her consorts stood up straighter, hands all clasped behind their backs and hard, blank stares plastered to their faces. All of them donned their public personas to hide the depravity they all seemed to thoroughly enjoy.
The throne room doors opened, two guards pulling them wide, and a page entered, bowing low to avoid eye contact with the Queen. “The Chosen, Rhowyn Hunt, His Highness, Prince Lennox, Captain Arryn Oakley, and Lieutenant Baer Hawthorne,” he announced, his voice echoing loudly through the room's silence.
The Queen dipped her head slightly in acknowledgement and signaled the admittance of the announced. The page bowed low again, stepping to the side of the entry and gesturing with one arm for them to enter. The prince led the group into the room, followed by the Chosen, who was glaring at the prince before smoothing her expression, Captain Oakley, and Lieutenant Hawthorne. They all drew within twenty feet of the throne before the men all bowed low. This seemed to surprise the Chosen, whose eyes widened before she also bowed uncomfortably and not nearly as low as she should.
Many had died for slighter offenses against the Queen, and I found myself holding my breath, waiting for the Queen's reaction. I studied the newest Chosen candidate, her long, dark green hair pulled back from her face, some pieces escaping the tie. She still appeared in her human glamor, which was odd, but she was breathtaking in her beauty. Her honey eyes, framed by thick, dark lashes, her skin tanned from the sun, lips full and pulled tight in a polite smile. She was curvier than most fae, muscles evident in her athletic frame, a stark contrast to the men who towered above her.
I slowly exhaled as the Queen smiled benevolently on the Chosen. “Welcome to Avalon, Rhowyn. We look forward to having you here through the trials.” She stood and approached the group. “I'm sure you have many questions that my son Lennox can help answer for you. However, I'm certain you are also tired from your journey. A servant will show you to your room so you can rest before the ceremony tonight, where we will locate your consorts. Afterward, there’s to be a ball for the members of the Court to meet all the Chosen who will be competing.”
The Queen turned to gesture to a servant, basically dismissing them, but as the men went to bow in acknowledgment, Rhowyn stepped forward slightly. “Thank you for your hospitality, Your Majesty, but I'm not sure if all this is necessary.” The Queen stiffened, and her eyes flashed at being questioned as she maintained her smile. Apparently not noticing, Rhowyn continued, “I'm honored to have been chosen, but I feel I must decline. I have family and responsibilities on Earth that require my presence, and I'm eager to return there as quickly as possible.”
Queen Titania stood there, still and quiet as Rhowyn met her gaze with her shoulders back and head high, no fear evident in her face. The tension in the air grew as the two took each other's measure before Titania released a tinkling laugh as if amused. I knew her laugh was insincere, and she was seething in anger. For whatever reason, the Queen wanted this Chosen to not fear her which made me want to study Rhowyn even more for answers.
As her laugh died down, she spoke, “Nonsense! This is one of the highest honors in Avalon, not to be denied until after the trials have been completed. Jensen, please see Rhowyn to her room.” With that declaration, she turned her back on the group, dismissing them all again as she retook her throne. Her fa?ade dropped after the group left, her face becoming cold and calculating with rage, and I feared what the Queen planned to do to ensure her authority over Rhowyn. Whatever it was would not be pleasant to the lost Chosen and whomever would be damned as her consorts.