Their idea of a toilet was a small metallic container in the corner of the room, right next to the fungus decoration and I also spotted a tattered blanket, so old that generations of moths had inhabited it for what looked like many years.
I forced myself into a stand and stepped to the cell wall, pressing my back against it. The pulsations in my chest threatened to rip through my ribs and my knees were on the point of buckling, but I did not want to show weakness. Not when he was coming to claim his victory.
To reveal his master plan and enjoy my tears, which were continuously dripping, the ultimate sign of defeat.
I listened to his steps as they advanced towards the battlefield he had already claimed, clad in victory and elegance. Various sets of boots stomped through what seemed to be a long corridor. Uniformed soldiers appeared from everywhere, each carrying a torch to illuminate the way for their prince, turning the defeat of darkness into unnatural daylight.
I settled my pulse and waited, all the while scanning every single detail I could about the soldiers. They were all tall, fae males. All carried the same dark crimson uniform, their shoulder length hair tied at the back with the same colour string as their uniform.
The same hair length Galenor had proudly exhibited throughout his stay. Somehow a prisoner of two years managed to keep the fashion of his realm. Fucking idiot, I swore at my own stupidity. He lied to you from the moment he arrived.
“Good morning,” his voice pierced through the darkness before his body reached my cell, not wanting to give me a full view.
“Fuck you!” I shouted through the bars and the line of soldiers that huddled with their torches. I did not have time to practise my reaction, to force myself to remain guarded, to even think about what I was going to say to him. One thing was clear, I was not going to let him enjoy this. I would not look defeated and broken, I would not cry for mercy, and Iwould notlet him take that sweet victory sip. Not as long as I had breath in my lungs.
“Feisty,” I heard a chuckle and more steps echoing on the wet stone. Even his voice sounded different, sharper, merciless. Nothing like the sweet, gentle male he had pretended to be with me.
“Say what you came here to say and let’s get this over with,” I spat. Rage boiled through me, the adrenaline giving my body more support, urging me to move forward. To step right to those bars and look him in the eyes.
“I simply wanted to meet you,” he finally appeared, a sharp smirk planted on his beautiful features.
He even looked different, his hair loose, two strands braided on the sides to keep it away from his face, allowing the rest of his dark locks to flow down his shoulders. There was something odd about his cheeks, they weren’t as sharp, and the curve of his upper lip looked harsher, slightly different from the lips I had tasted so many times.
And his eyes…were black. Onyx black, night sky black, perfectly combined with the darkness of his hair.
“What is happening?” I questioned in a hushed tone, the sound of my voice barely escaping.
“Curiosity,” he shrugged, making the simple gesture look royal, his shoulders giving an unbecoming elegance.
I kept my mouth shut and forced my gaze to take all the details of him, to see everything that was different from the male I had spent so much time with. I had learnt his body inside and out. I knew every scar, I knew his every gesture. I was trained to observe small details, and the change in his appearance hit me like a storm on a small, deserted island.
“Of course you realised, how foolish of me to think otherwise,” he chuckled, displaying a proud smile. “You are indeed magnificent.” The way he dipped his chin, the way his lips curved. This was a completely different person.
“Who are you?” I mustered the courage to ask, gaining myself another proud grin.
“I thought you would recognise my voice,” he pouted theatrically. “After all, we have spoken many times…” he let the words flow, as if he wanted me to piece it together.
Spoken many times, what was he talking about? The only person I spoke to was Galenor. Well, him and…
“PDD?” I released a trembled realisation.
‘I’m sure my brother put me here…’ Galenor’s voice struck through my memories. “Twins?” I finally breathed out.
With a reverent dip of his chin, PDD smiled again. “Beautiful and bright, no wonder my brother brought you home.”
“Where is he? Where is Galenor?” I demanded, hope blooming once again inside my heart. Maybe he hadn’t been a part of this, maybe he too was a prisoner of his brother. Maybe…
“Galenor is busy enjoying his harem at the moment. Those fine ladies waited a long time for my brother, so they were a bit anxious to get their hands on him. You know how he can be…” he tilted his head as if the explanation were enough. As if he hadn’t just shoved another dagger into my heart.
Galenor had a harem. Of course he did, I huffed at my own stupidity. He was a prince of the Wind Realm. One of two, apparently.
My face dropped with understanding.
“PDD. Prince Dalenth of Death,” I said the words out loud while tears spurted from my eyes. “Both of you were PDD.”
I couldn’t contain my voice from shaking, heartbreak pulsating through every beat. Through every muscle.
“Friends call me Dorian,” he bowed low, his forehead almost touching the iron bars.
