Chapter 35 Kailia
Kailia
The heavy footfalls roused her, and she blinked sleep from her eyes.
Rocky walls. Thin mattress. Small room.
The footfalls were getting nearer, and she scrambled to shove back the thin blanket. The Mark on her arm was there, telling her this was a dream, but she’d woken too late. She didn’t have enough time to prepare for what was about to happen.
She tried though. Gods, did she try when the two males barged into the room.
Tall and muscled, she was no match for them as they each took an arm and dragged her from her room, her heels slicing open as she tried to dig them in.
She twisted and thrashed, hoping for the tiniest loosening of their hold that she could work with, but their grips were solid and firm.
They passed others in the halls, but they kept their eyes down. No one intervened. She didn’t blame them. She wouldn’t have intervened either. Not back then anyway. Now it was different, but this was a dream.
Dream.
Dream, dream, dream.
She repeated it over and over as she was marched upstairs to the upper levels. It was a dream. None of it was real. She simply needed to figure out how to wake herself up. That was all. She could survive that long.
A door was pushed open, and she was shoved through. She kept her balance easily enough. Even here, she’d already been trained in stealth and silence, given what she was. Or rather, what they wanted her to be.
She took in the room, knowing exactly where they were with the metal table on one side and the manacles bolted to the wall on the other.
The table was shirastone that would nullify a Fae’s powers, but the manacles were more.
Something that could contain her. Even knowing that this wasn’t real, she started trembling.
Her entire being shook with the knowledge of what was coming.
It may be a dream, but the pain would be very real until she woke up.
Then it would haunt her, and she’d made so much progress with Cethin and Razik and—
“Hello, my little huntress.”
The feminine voice turned her blood cold. Every other thought left her mind. The knowledge the female was dead. That she was free and not in these Cliffs. That it had all been truths woven with lies so she didn’t know what was true. That she had seen the sun and knew what the stars looked like.
She forgot this was a dream as she stood so very still.
The female’s footsteps were light and graceful while she slowly circled Kailia. Olive skin. Black hair with streaks of red in it. The same red dress she always wore that reached her ankles. Red painted nails and dark, depthless eyes.
The Baroness of the Cliffs.
She’d been taught the Baroness kept them safe from the rest of the world. The leader of the colony housed inside the enchanted cliffs, they’d been told it was for their own safety. That if others discovered what kind of power they had, they would want it for themselves.
That hadn’t been entirely a lie, but the truth had still been manipulated and used against everyone who had resided there. Either way, that perceived protection came with a cost, and if the Baroness was here, Kailia had failed to fulfill her end of the payment.
The Baroness reached out, her fingers trailing across Kailia’s midsection as she moved, a pensive look on her face that would almost be convincing if it weren’t for the something ‘other’ that lingered in her eyes.
Something Kailia could never quite decipher, but she attributed that to not easily understanding body language and facial reactions.
“I am told you are making poor choices,” the Baroness said, a small pout forming on red lips.
Kailia said nothing, having learned long ago to wait and learn what she did wrong before apologizing and potentially revealing something else entirely. She’d learned such a tactic from the Baroness after all.
Fingers grazed up her arm until a single nail was running along her jaw and tipping her chin up. “What have you been taught about control, Kailia?”
“That without control, I have nothing but the blood in my veins,” she answered.
“And would you say you have control right now?”
It was no use lying. She already knew. The Baroness always knew everything going on in the Cliffs.
The Baroness’s mock pout deepened, and she took a step back, nodding her chin to the males who stood on either side of the door. Each one gripped her biceps, pulling her towards the manacles.
“Wait!” she cried, twisting in their hold, once again trying to dig in her heels.
“Something to show me?” the Baroness asked, arching a perfect brow.
“I can create the weapons you want,” she answered, her voice trembling. “I can make them. I can—”
“While the weapons will prove useful, how will you be useful if you cannot move among your magic?” the Baroness posed. “Move across the room, Kailia. Prove your worth more than the blood you carry.”
But she couldn’t.
Because her magic was broken. Cracked and fractured somehow.
No matter what she did, she couldn’t repair it.
If she tried to move among her ashes now, she didn’t know where she’d end up.
Where her power would drag her. It would only make things so much worse when she was eventually found and brought back here.
They always found her. Always brought her back.
When she didn’t answer, when she did nothing, the Baroness shook her head. “I’m so disappointed in your choice, my little huntress.”
As if this was her choice. As if she was choosing to not have control over her magic.
The chains rattled with the force of her trembling as the manacles were snapped into place around her wrists and ankles.
The Baroness stepped in front of her once more, gripping her jaw sharply, nails digging in. “If you cannot contribute to this colony with your magic, then perhaps it is finally time for you to visit the producing rooms.”
She didn’t entirely know what happened in the producing rooms, but the males and females assigned to those rooms always looked haunted. Vacant eyes. Faces always down, and eventually, they just…disappeared.
Releasing her face, the Baroness said, “Something I will be considering, but in the meantime…” She turned, her frown lifting into a smile. “Cain?”
Kailia hadn’t seen him standing in the dark corner. Too consumed with the Baroness, she had no idea when he’d arrived. But he stepped forward now, the fire at his fingertips illuminating the dark spaces.
“Use this time to think about your choice, my little huntress,” the Baroness said, not looking back as she left the room.
The two escorts stayed, one standing on either side of the door.
And Cain?
Kailia screamed as he pressed a palm of flames to her navel.
Her power thrashed in her veins, unable to save her because of the manacles. The metal nullified most magic, including hers. The scent of charred flesh filled the room as Cain slowly dragged his hand along her torso.
She couldn’t think. She couldn’t get air down.
Not as that hand trailed up her arm. Clasped her throat. The fire never lessening.
There was only the pain and her screams.
There was only the cost of failure.
Someone was holding her down by the shoulders. She was being jostled. They were touching her, and she was burning, and—
That wasn’t flames. It was an icy brush of something dark and cold that chilled her bones but also pulled her out of the thrall of her nightmares.
She lurched to the side, tumbling to the floor as she retched.
“Fucking Fates,” she heard a male mutter. “Lia, are you—”
“Do not ask if she’s all right when you took her out and let her get so drunk—”
“I don’t let her do anything, Sutara. She’s the queen. If she wants to drink her weight in ale every once in a while, I’m not going to stop her.”
Right.
The awful ale she’d consumed three large mugs of. That was what she was vomiting up right now.
She could still smell the scent of burning flesh, and her entire body still felt like it was being tortured with flames, even if the cold magic had lessened the intensity. When someone crouched beside her, she scrambled to the side, her stomach still convulsing.
“It’s me, Kailia,” Cethin coaxed. “I’m going to hold your hair back. Okay?”
It probably didn’t make much difference now. Strands were matted to her sweaty brow and neck while locks hung limply over her shoulders, grazing the same floor she’d vomited on.
She let him carefully gather the strands anyway, flinching whenever he accidentally grazed her skin. Her muscles ached as if she’d been in those shackles for days, arching in pain as Cain reminded her she may be descended from Anala, but fire was still a weakness.
The minutes passed, the vomiting turning to dry heaving as her stomach continued to convulse, cramping and making her curl in on herself. Razik had retrieved a rubbish bin so at least she wasn’t retching onto the floor anymore.
“Can I help you back to the sofa?” Cethin asked softly when she’d finally stilled, panting from everything.
“I can do it,” she rasped, her throat raw.
“But I can—”
“I said I’ll do it,” she interjected, pushing up with shaking arms.
Cethin released her hair as she staggered the few steps to the sofa and collapsed back onto it. She pulled her legs to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and pressing her brow to her knees, willing her heart rate to slow and her breathing to even out.
“Drink some water, Lia,” Razik said, and she lifted her head, finding him extending a glass to her.
She took a small sip to get the taste of bile out of her mouth. Anything more would have come right back up. Razik took a step back while Cethin took a step closer, worry etched across his elegant features.
“What do you need, Kailia?” Cethin asked.
A bath.
To be left alone.
Time to get back into the right state of mind.