33. Keira
I wake up to the sound of guttural voices arguing in hushed whispers. The moment I peel open my eyes, dragging in a sharp breath and abruptly sitting up, they fall into silence. My head is so groggy I can hardly think straight.
For a heartbeat, I have no idea where I am.Then it all comes rushing back to me.
The parade. The battle.
The fact that we underestimated Titania’s influence over the people. There must have been a quarter of the city that rose to her call.
How we lost the confrontation.
The mustiness of the air, the scratching of vermin on the hay-covered floor and the dimness of the space tells me exactly where I am before my vision has a chance to focus on the walls of bars.
I would have expected the dungeons to be left in darkness, but Titania is terrified of shadows now.
There is just enough light to cast the space in an even glow, with no inky tendrils in the corners that Valentine or Belladonna could teleport into.
Unfortunately, it means I can see the occupants in the neighboring cell with enough clarity to be terrified.
Three huge men, if that is what they can be called, taller and broader than even Aldrin.
Their arms are almost as thick as my waist, and I am not skinny by any definition.
Their skin is green, their eyes yellow, and tusks poke out from their bottom lips.
Scars crisscross much of their exposed chests, covered only by necklaces of bone.
An assortment of leather straps, beads and fur trimmings make up their arm braces, and thick belts wrap around heavy kilt-like skirts that drape almost to the ground.
Orcs.
By the Soul Ripper, why are there orcs from the Winter Court in these dungeons?
My grandmother spoke of the redcap goblins she fought. How they fell into bloodlust and slaughtered mindlessly, uncontrollably, just to smear the blood of their victims across their bodies.
Orcs are so much worse.
Intelligent. Crafty. Immensely brutal.
It is said that they eat humans as a delicacy. That they devour the raw flesh of high fae on the battlefield. That they lead armies of redcap goblins to pillage innocent villages and towns.
I stare and stare at them with wide eyes and a racing heart that I am sure they can hear, and they glare right back at me. One walks up to the bars separating them from me, wrapping meaty fingers around them as he considers me.
“Are you the rightful Queen of Spring?” he asks with a thick, guttural accent. “The one who has been protecting the Winter Princess?”
I jolt. Those words are nothing like the threats and vicious promises I expected to pour out of his mouth. The question is so commonplace that it jars me out of my fear for a single moment.
I raise my chin, because despite how much physically stronger than me they might be, I will cower before no one. “I am,” I reply.
“Then you have our thanks,” he says simply.
“That battle up there.” Another sitting on a cushion tips his head toward a window high on the wall. “Was Sasha involved in it?”
“Not that I saw. It was a confrontation between the High Chancellor and the true crown.” I try to stand, but immediately regret it as the world spins around me and I slump back onto my hard pallet.
“And you ended up in here. Means you lost. Not a good fucking sign for us,” the lounging orc replies, then returns to the chunk of wood he is whittling with a sharpened claw.
My eyes scan over them, then their cell.
Their skin is clean, like they have regular opportunities for a bath, though orcs have water magic and could easily use it to wash.
There are no signs of starvation or torture on their bodies; all their scars are old.
Most telling are the subtle luxuries of their cell.
It appears to be three times the size of my own, with proper pallet beds, furs and cushions.
Two are playing a card game, and there is also evidence of dice and a board with stones.
A puka draws our attention as it bursts through the bars on the window, running down the wall and into the lap of the whittling orc.
It wears a vest with a little pack sewn into it, and the men pull out the biscuits and small cakes smuggled into it.
Huge smiles split their faces as they dig into them.
This is Sasha’s work.She is taking care of these orcs.
Her kindness and compassion for her people knows no bounds.
I gawk at them in confusion for a long time as they laugh and make jokes about her needing to send in a creature large enough to carry a bottle of spirits to them.
Then I remember the sorrowful comment she made about Titania locking up her bodyguards and closest friends in the dungeons.
The heartache and guilt that plagues her while she lives in luxury and they are imprisoned.
One orc glances at me and rolls his eyes. “Why is it that Spring fae always look at us like we are about to go mad and tear their throats out with our teeth for the sheer fun of it?”
Another shrugs. “A few rogue tribes decide to lose their shit and drink the blood of high fae during the wars, and now everyone thinks we orcs are mindless beasts.”
“Those fucking tribes were doing that sort of shit before the war,” grumbles the third, who hadn’t spoken yet. “They just got so much worse when their leashes were removed.”
“Do you want a biscuit?” The orc still hovering near the bars holds one out through a gap. I cannot decide if he is being friendly or trying to lure me closer.
Before I can reply, bangs and crashes echo down the hall as a series of gates are opened, then slammed shut.
The orcs hide their cookies behind their backs like a bunch of children not wanting their sneaky prize confiscated.
I finally manage to stand. I will face whatever is coming for me on my feet.
Jasper and Rainier materialize around the corner with two women flanking them. When Jasper puts his key into the lock on my cell, the orcs pull out their biscuits again and continue munching.
“Are you sure you don’t want the biscuit?” that same orc asks again. “What about you, Jasper? Rainier? Fancy some sugar?”
Jasper scans my body up and down, cataloging my every injury. That steely blue gaze flicks to the orcs, then back to me. “You have made friends. Good.”
Rainier’s thick brow furrows as I sway on my feet. He places his hands on my shoulders to steady me. “How are you feeling?”
“Like an entire herd of bovine trampled me,” I reply.
“There isn’t much time.” Jasper motions for me to sit on the pallet, then squats before me so our eyes are level.
“I have brought healers, including Rainier, who are going to do their best to rapidly restore you to health, and give you a potion to replenish your magic. Keep the fact that you have your powers back hidden, unless you absolutely need to use them. It will destroy my cover, since I am meant to poison you again, but that is a sacrifice I am willing to make to ensure your safety.”
He lets the unspoken hang between us: if I use my magic, he will have no way of knowing that he has been discovered until they attack him.
Rainier runs a hand through his white hair as he glances at the two women hovering behind him. “I am not as skilled as my mother, but better than most. Unfortunately, it is difficult to find loyal healers in the palace right now.”
Jasper holds out a vial and I gulp down the bitter potion.
My reservoir of magic winks back into existence, the block upon it dissipating, but it is still near empty.
My bond with Aldrin flares bright. A maelstrom of panic and angst slams right into me, like stepping out into a blizzard.
Warmth suddenly wraps around me as his soul tugs mine close. I sigh with contentment down the bond.
Dear heart, did they hurt you? Have they ? —
He is unable to speak the words, but brutal images of torture flash into my mind anyway. A violent shiver runs down his spine and ghosts over mine.
No. No, they haven’t touched me… I wince as pain radiates through his forearm from a jarring blow, then realize his sword is held before him, blocking the downward swing of another blade.
There is a crush of fae all around him, screaming and fighting, drenched in blood.
Aldrin! Are you in the middle of another battle?
It never ended, he grunts, flaring magic into his weapon to slice it clean through the armor and flesh of the enemy’s belly. Gods. I’m going to do everything I can to get you out of there. I am so sorry I failed to protect you. To anticipate this. His stomach twists and I can’t bear it.
How could we have known she could do this? Do not blame yourself and do not worry for me when you are in the middle of a literal fight for your life! I practically shriek back at him.
We are retreating, he admits. And none of these commoners are a match for me. He cuts down another with ease and I almost believe him.
A sharp sting in my hand pulls me back to my physical body, followed by a radiating heat so intense it is almost painful. Jasper’s hand glows with white light where it covers mine as he transfers his raw power into me.
“Won’t—won’t you need it?” I gasp.
“Don’t you worry about me. Besides, the healers need to draw on your magic just as much as theirs, so you need it more than I do.” Jasper stands. It looks like he wants to say so much more, but he merely gives me a curt nod, then turns to the orcs. “Is there anything you boys need?”
“A stroll through the gardens would be nice,” one snickers.
“How about some of those hallucinogenic mushrooms your nymphs love to smoke? I’m fucking bored.” The one standing at the bars slaps Jasper on the shoulder, laughing.
“Tell Sasha to send down some more books,” the quiet orc grumbles, the only one to give a serious reply. “Her bloody puka ate the final chapter of the last one. I have no idea how it ends. Do you know what that does to a man with endless time?”