Chapter Thirty-One
Isla
The door slams with a loud bang. Oliver storms off in a fit of rage. It causes me to chuckle at the pitiful captain. A loud, shrill whistle comes from one of the cells.
“Whewee,” Charlie calls out. “What’d ya do to him?”
I take a deep breath and back up against the stone wall. Foolish of him to think my second stay in a dungeon would be my downfall. How easily he forgets about the scars that don my back and the steps that were taken before, and after, they were placed there.
“Ach, Isla,” Scotty laments. “Don’t tell us you’re going to be as quiet as our friend here. We’ve got nothing else to lose. The silence is killing me.”
I chuckle, twisting my hands in front of me. I lean my head against the wall and close my eyes. “Where do you want me to start?”
The men laugh. Charlie clears his throat. “Preferably from the beginning.”
I recount everything to the two strangers sitting in cells next to mine. It’s therapeutic in a way, explaining the death of my papa, how I was foolishly in love with a liar, and how I came across the Hood.
I’m in the middle of explaining what happened that fateful evening when three arrows struck true, killing the jolly traders bringing us to this castle.
Rustling pulls me out of my story. A voice, hoarse from lack of use, interrupts me. “Wait,” the man says.
“Tell me about your friend. Your friend that you traveled with,” he pleads.
My eyebrows wrinkle in confusion. “Raia?” I ask.
“The other one,” he rasps.
“Ah. Maisie. Her parents were a part of the rebellion,” I whisper.
“Her,” he stresses. “Where… where does she come from?”
I think about his question and recount our conversations. “Kensington, I think.”
The man gasps. Silence hangs in the air.
“Her parents were in the rebellion. Her father was captured and taken away from them. Maisie’s mama was forced to give Maisie to the slave trade for freedom.
For a bit of mercy from the prince.” The last bit was said in a sour resentment from the prince.
Hatred blossoms in my stomach at the thought.
“Ke-Ke-Kensington,” he stutters. “It can’t be.”
“Ach man,” Charlie shouts. “Spit it out, lad. Just ask her what you want to know!”
“She’s alive? She’s safe?” The man trips over his questions.
“She is,” I confirm. “She’s with the Hood.”
The only thing that echoes back is the man’s sobs. He thanks the Fates for their mercy.
“Do you know her?” I ask, confused.
“She’s my daughter,” his voice is barely above a whisper.
My heart squeezes. “You’re going to see her again,” I promise. “I swear it.”
The man says nothing back. Sounds of him shuffling back to whatever corner of his cell he came from echo in the dungeon. The silence is deafening.
An hour later, Scotty eventually breaks it. “So, you’re in with the Hood, huh.”
I chuckle. “I guess you could say that, yeah.”
“He’s a good fellow. He has helped us out a bit before we got snatched by these lousy fellows here.”
That piques my curiosity a bit. Every little bit of information I can learn about Rhylen, I want to. Scotty sighs dramatically, as if his entire existence in the dungeon was nothing but a bump in his path.
“Finish your story, lass,” Scotty gripes. “And then I’ll answer all your questions about your sweetheart.”
I chuckle against the cool, wet stone. My throat aches for water, but I ignore it. Continuing my story, I fill in the men locked in this damp dungeon with me.
∞∞∞
“Rise and shine, sunshine,” a grating voice pulls me out of my sleep. There’s a click of the lock that has me opening my eyes to look at the door. Coley stands before me wearing a smug grin. “The Prince is askin’ for ya.”
There’s a palace guard standing next to the sheriff. His blank face gives nothing away. Suspicion makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. “Why,” I ask.
Coley scoffs. “Doesn’t matter why. Your prince wants it; your prince gets it.
I snort. “I’m not sure who you’re calling my prince,” I tell him. “But I don’t want to see him. Besides, don’t you have villagers to steal from and terrorize?”
“Ahh, how cute. You think you have a choice,” Coley smiles, ignoring my jab about his role in the Cahir Village. He signals to the guard, who walks into my cell. The guard grips my arms, yanking me out of the bed.
“Hey,” I shout. “Leave me alone.”
“Unfortunately for the both of us, I’m unable to. Come on.”
“You’re disgusting. A weak, pathetic coward who can’t make any decision for himself. How does it feel to walk in the shadows of your cousins? Constantly overlooked as the help.”
Coley looks away from me. For a second, I think I see bitterness in his features as my words sink in.
I struck a nerve in my rambling. But when he looks back at me with hatred in his eyes, I know it's only wishful thinking.
The loud smack of his hand hitting my face is the only thing that can be heard.
The guard escorts me down the hall of the dungeon. Charlie and Scotty grip the bars of their cell doors, apprehension and worry on their faces. Before we get to the entrance of the dungeon, the prince steps into the dark room.
He wears a wicked grin as he looks down on me. Fear snakes up my spine. “Thank you, Coley, but there’s been a change in plans.”
Cailean turns his attention to the guard who’s gripping my arm, “take her to the room.”
The guard nods and turns, ushering me to the back of the dungeon.
“Since I don’t think we’ll be able to convince you to help us, you’ve given us no choice. We’ll have to resort to,” Cailean pauses. “Other methods.”
There’s a gasp coming from one of the cells. The guard drags me down the long hall, turning to a wooden door. He pushes it open and manhandles me onto a chair in the middle of the room.
“What is this?” I ask. Panic claws up my throat as Cailean, Oliver, and Coley follow in behind us. Oliver walks around us, lighting the three sconces on the wall before walking back to his prince.
“Truly, you’ve given us no choice,” Prince Cailean drawls. “Unless you’d like to tell us what the Hood plans.”
I press my lips into a thin line. “I don’t know anything.”
Prince Cailean sighs and rubs his temples, as if my words have somehow pained him. “Have it your way.”
Oliver visibly swallows, taking a step towards me. Pity is clear in his eyes. He’s back to the loving, endearing version of himself, trying to appeal to the naive girl that once loved him. It makes me sick. “Isla, please. Be reasonable.”
The guard pushes me into the chair and clasps the shackles around my wrists. He exits the room in a flash, leaving me to the three wolves that surround me.
“What is this? What are you doing?” I try to inhale, to swallow down the dread. Coley smirks at me. He holds a cloth bundle in his arms. Walking over to a table in the corner, he lays the bundle out. The metal wrapped up clanks as it hits the table.
An array of knives, scissors, and small blades lay out on the table. Coley begins rolling up his sleeves. Oliver and Cailean’s eyes bore into me as I slowly process what’s about to happen.
“It’s simple,” Coley rolls his shoulders. “You tell us everything you know about the rebellion, and we walk out of here.”
“I want leaders, locations, and numbers,” Cailean interrupts. “Everything.”
A deranged laugh bursts from my chest at the prince’s demands. It swallows up the fear, making way for the anger at my situation. I spit at the prince.
Coley slams his fist against my face again. Biting pain inflames my cheek. “Your disrespect of the crown ends now.”
“Fuck you,” I grind out. His fist slams into my cheekbone again. My head snaps back from the impact. A throbbing ache settles in.
“Isa, Isla, Isla,” Cailean tsks. “Darling, you can make this easy.”
I stare past the three men in front of me, focusing on the grooves of the stone behind them. My mouth flattens into a line while I try to ignore the pain.
Cailean tilts his head to the side. “You know, this isn’t going to work. Hang her up. Let’s see how long she lasts there.”
Coley barks an order for me to stand, while Oliver grabs the chains. They push the chair I was in three feet behind me. I try to push back, to fight against Oliver’s hold. Hatred and frustration begin to shine through in his eyes as he yanks me into him.
“You fight; you make it worse for you. Just behave this once, Isla,” Oliver snaps.
“I will always fight you,” I swear.
Coley chuckles, delight lights up his features. “This will be fun.”
Oliver pushes me, catching me off guard. Coley seizes the moment, yanking one of my arms up into the chains that hang from the ceiling. Oliver latches the other one. My arms above my head, I hang from the ceiling.
A wicked gleam appears on Oliver’s face. Gone is the old Oliver, and back in place is the new Oliver I’ve come to hate. It’s a disorienting change. He picks up a small blade, twirling it in his hands. “Would you like to see the handiwork of my father’s men?”
Disgust curls in my stomach as I fight the bile that climbs up my throat. He stalks towards me quietly. There’s a menacing look on his face as he circles me. He’s at my back, pressing a blade against the strings that tie the dress together.
“What are you doing? I ask, panicked. “Leave me alone. Don’t touch me!”
I can hear panicked rustling down the hall. The men locked in their cells start shouting. “Take me! Take me instead,” Scotty cries out.
Oliver chuckles. “You’ve already made friends, so quickly?”
“Oli,” I whisper. “Don’t do this.”
He ignores my pleas, slicing the back of the wool dress off. It falls to the floor, leaving me in a thin slip of a dress. Oliver turns my body, showing off the scars of the whip marks. Coley whistles.
“That was all your sister?”
Prince Cailean chuckles. “She is wicked.”
“It’s a pity, truly,” Oliver sneers. He glides a finger across my shoulder, sending a shiver up my spine. “You could have had a comfortable life, living out on my estate, raising our babies, tending the house. I’d take you to the balls, give you your freedom.”
He sighs, “but you had to ruin it. Now you’ll bear our children and live out the rest of your days in your room.”
“And not a moldy cell,” I spit, interrupting him from his speech.
Oliver grips a handful of my hair, yanking my head in his direction. With my arms above my head, the pain at twisting my neck to face him screams. He brings his nose to mine. “Now why would I want you wasting away in a cell, when I can have you kept waiting at my will every night in my bed?”
“And if I refuse?” I ask him, ignoring his closeness. It makes my skin crawl.
He cackles in response, throwing his head back. Cailean gives me a deprecating grin at his friend’s reaction.
“My Isla, my Isla.” Oliver slides his nose along mine. In a whisper, he says, “I’m going to enjoy breaking you.”
His mask is off. Gone, the sweet and charming small village boy and in his place is the monster that haunts my dreams. Oliver takes a step back from me when I don’t react to his words. He won’t break me, I swear to the Fates. He won’t.
Coley walks out the door, leaving me alone with the prince, his monster, and the traitor. Oliver and Cailean give each other a knowing grin and turn their attention back to me. Oliver walks over to the three sconces, turning the lights out.
“Sleep well, dear Isla,” Cailean utters. “We will see you in the morning.”
With that, the monsters of my reality leave me to the darkness.