There was no light around, the only vision of its shapes was held by flaming torches planted against the walls and candelabras in the main halls. Like the one I was dragged into. The commander’s quarters.
I did not bother to study the halls, nor did I try to form a mapping of the surroundings in my head, like I did when I first arrived here. Plans of escape, of retribution, had kept me hopeful for months, the only nourishment I found in this forgotten chaos.
Dreams of Anwen and reuniting with my family gave me more strength than I could possibly think, judging by the guards’ and commander’s expressions at the end of every failed torture session.
At first, I even mocked them for using such old techniques on a prince. Treating me like I hadn’t been trained in the eventuality of an attack. I even suggested new machinery to them and offered to draw up some plans and wait until they finished building the new torture device. “I can at least take some credit in elevating this place,” I’d mocked.
It was not appreciated.
When I offered to trade my life for Anwen’s, I did not have any expectations to continue living. Nor did I understand Rhylan’s kindness to give us another day together. He could have claimed my energy then and there, instead, he offered us more time. To create memories that helped me remain nourished even though I was only fed when Marreth happened upon my cell.
In the initial days, all three Fire Kingdom commanders established a thrusting presence around me, barely abandoning my captured self to replenish their energy or get food. Even that, they did in turns.
Serpium remained through it all, week after week, even month after month if my scabbing and reopened wounds proved an accurate indication of the passage of time. The second commander and master torturer of the Fire Kingdom took delight in surprising me with different techniques, and I reciprocated, with various echoing screams on a daily basis. After a while, I recognised him by the way he walked towards my cell and I could envision his tall, bald and shirtless presence without having to look at him any longer. Serpium took delight in showing his skin and displaying the scars he had accumulated throughout his miserable existence. Judging by the burn scars on his neck and right shoulder, he had been punished in his youth and enjoyed returningpain towards others.
He did not like to talk too much, or at least not directly to me, unless it was to ask the same question, tirelessly, over and over again. When I did not respond, or my answers came with screaming gushes rather than the desired words, Serpium went on talking to his blades instead, telling each and every one of them which body part they would penetrate, at what depth and the angle they would be inserted through. It seemed to offer him a sense of tranquillity since the blades did not respond but only executed his commands without protest. I never saw the second commander without a sharp object by his side, be it to use or just to give him peace at the thought that he could, indeed, inflict pain at any time he desired so.
In time, the commanders became more creative with the torture attempts, even though each passing day added another drop to their failure. The iron shackles held a constant presence, weakening my body with each advancing moment. Unbearable pain held me awake at night, stopping me from the dreams that had kept me alive. Other times, they resorted to serums and potions, making me see things that were not there. They differed on the whim of the commander in charge. At times, they made me see Anwen in my cell, running towards me and hugging me, placing her sweet face on my chest, just like she loved to do. Other times it was father’s death. The kingdom covered in flames.
I recognized Crypto’s work, he liked psychological torture more than anything. The third commander exchanged roles with Serpium, my daily pain-inflicting companion every few sessions and experimented with potions and mind-altering elixirs on my already weakened spirit. His approaching presence became noted by the smell of putrid mud. It created a cover over his dark features and heavy brown hair and gave him the distinct aspect of a male who loathed his assignment.
Crypto’s visits in my cell did not linger, he either forced liquid down my throat or vaporised it in my cell until I succumbed to the effect he had prepared for me. During the few seconds of lucidity I conserved after his arrival, I heard him complaining about having to dig tunnels towards the other regnums, something he did not appear too keen on. It made sense that he was always grumpy and tired, complaining about dirt to the extent that his body had taken a liking to the bits of ground he had to dig through and made sure to conserve some of it on his clothes or the top of his head and shoulders. The male walked like a princess on a mating day, only he did so leaving dirt in his stead rather than rose petals.
Today, they must have come up with something even better. The commanders liked to announce it personally, yet I did not expect all three of them to gather just for me.
“Greetings, prince,” a mocking familiar voice echoed in my head while the doors opened. Two sentinels lifted my arms and proceeded to drag me across the halls. I had been mistaken in thinking they had prepared another visit to the commander’s quarters.
The halls we passed penetrated deeper into the core of the earth and wider decorated tunnels opened up in front of us. Red carpets I could stain with my blood and accumulated filth with. Not that I had a long expanse of minutes, the two sentinels dragged me so quickly I barely had time to lift my head and attempt to scan the walls for any clues as to our destination.
Door after door, halls, and stairs, they all formed before our steps and took us through a wide span of the kingdom. I guessed that if I had walked, I would have covered at least five miles since our departure point. Distance during which the iron shackles on my ankles clincked against my skin with each forced movement and I observed, pleased, how tiny drips of my blood left a minuscule stain of those shiny carpets. It formed a reminder that I had been there, that above all odds, I remained alive for this long. I guessed that those stains will live longer than me.
Memories could barely keep the flame of my life burning. Replaced by pain, lack of sleep, and barely any food, I felt my energy fading away, dripping out of me just like the blood smudges that ran away from my body to escape another torture session.
Before I had a moment to react, tall adamant carved doors shifted in front of me and formed a path to a black marble throne room that opened before my eyes.
This is where they hold court. I was to meet their leader. A relieved breath escaped my aching body. It could only mean one thing.
Execution.
Chapter Three
Rhylan followed me back to the car as I forced my brain to work quickly, to find a plausible explanation for all of this. How could Ansgar still live? I squeezed back memories of the moment when his entire body vanished right in front of me, of how I’d squeezed the dry leaves he left behind, begging my mind, their goddess, and that energy that connected us to combine them into Ansgar again, to bring him back to me.
This had to be another one of Rhylan’s tricks, though I had still to piece together his reasons. And why he felt the need to appear out of thin air after a year, offering me a deal. Whatever that meant.
My attention snapped back when I heard voices. We were approaching the event, and people still lingered for either interviews, celebrations, or photos. And I was bringing back a fae that came out of nowhere.
“Tell me everything, right now!” I stopped and grabbed Rhylan’s wrist to force him by my side. During this time, he had frolicked through the woods around me, without a care in the world. He turned to me, slowly, without yanking his arm away, but stepping even closer, shrinking the distance.
“So eager, sprout. So eager…” No grin accompanied his lips this time, only sheer temptation. He stared at me as though he was the devil, offering me the undeniable promise. If what he said was true, if there was a way for Ansgar to be alive and for me to see him, I would do whatever he asked.
“We’ll chat more in the car,” he announced and continued walking towards the crowd, dragging me after him since I refused to let him go.
By the time we got out of the woods, we probably looked like a cartoon feature, the average size woman struggling to stop a mountain of a man in his tracks. I even had my knees bent and soles jammed in the soil, yet his every step forced me to be dragged after him, towing my arms and my entire body with each determined movement.
The click of the cameras forced me to return to composure and release him abruptly. Probably too late, since reporters and cameras immediately zoomed on him and started questioning. With that, I guessed the titles would change to “Mystery man and heiress alone in the woods” and judging by the ten-questions-per-second round they bombarded us with, the story would not continue as an eco-friendly article. Through it all, Rhylan kept his cool andnodded or smiled charmingly, without releasing a single word. Furthermore, his imposing stance formed a path through the journalists for me to follow back to the car and he even opened the door for me to sneak inside.
As soon as I did, he stepped in after me, without expecting an invitation and pushed me further on the backseat with his hips to make room for himself. Alan, the driver, did not wait for an invitation and ran the engine, taking both me and Rhylan away from the agitation.
