Blood stains his abdomen, a sliver of his shirt cut to reveal an open wound. He lifts a handless arm to stop us short as both of us rise. Where thefuckis his hand??
Immediately, I fold the map and shove it into my back pocket. “Should we call for a healer?” I ask at the same time Basilus shouts, “This is amazing!”
My jaw drops. I have yet to see how this is amazing. Our father is likely bleeding out right before our very eyes, and I’m about to take on a kingship that I’m not ready for.
“It worked, boy!” Melic growls at Basilus.
“A shame about your hand though.”
“What worked? What happened?” The urge to stomp my foot like a toddler is strong, but I refrain.
“Just a little trouble with some intruders. They are in the holding cells now.” He hisses as he takes a few steps forward and prods at the wounds. “Got me good but it’s already almost healed.”
A wound that produces that much blood... healed that quickly? That’s faster than the average Fae. That’simpossible.
“Who would want to break into this place?”
“Your sister, that’s who!” The king huffs. A chair groans under his weight. He kicks his boots off, settling into the seat and admiring his bloody stump of an arm.
“Wait—Violence is here?” I touch the map in my back pocket.
17
Violence
Quiet eats awayat my sanity. The darkness of the night is only relieved by the flickering flame of a small lantern. Dread gurgles in my gut, and my head pounds like I’ve been hit with a fifty-pound weight. Blinking into the dim light, I push myself up to my elbows.
The smell of rot, decay, and bodily fluids is abundant in the air. My breaths become shallow, trying to avoid inhaling too much of the terrible scent. Directly in front of me are thick iron bars separating me from the world beyond that bleeds into total blackness. Not another light suggests life beyond this cage.
Something moves in the corner.
My heart leaps into my throat. Rough, jagged rock digs into my back as I press myself into it. Nollix lounges, his elbow propped on a particularly long, jutting stone. His face is a mask of apathy toward what feels like our impending doom.
I release the air that had caught in my lungs. “Oh, it’s just you.”
Just him. No one else. My eyes search the rest of the small space, looking for what I know is missing.
“Cameron isn’t in here,” he answers for me.
We’re alone. My father seems to have managed to cut my bond with Cameron. Unless, of course, Cameron’s also being held close by.
If I were to call out, would she answer me? Is she somewhere just behind the darkness?
Nollix shakes his head. Sometimes I have to wonder if he is inside my head.
Seconds pass while we simply consider one another.
I feel defeated. We tried and we failed.
Three small stone walls imprison us. Magic drifts through them as a security measure keeping us locked within. It’s an unnatural and drowning form of magic that makes my skin crawl at the thought.
Dragging myself over to the lantern, I carefully fold my legs underneath me. I clasp my hands in my lap. The scar on the back of my hand glitters, the edges of it rough and calloused as I run a finger over it. For the longest time, this scar has represented so much hate.
I hated that I was a part of the Wild Hunt. I hated that my father had sent me away from a life I had loved. I hated that my future had changed. I hated how hollow I felt on the inside... I still feel empty like that, justless.
The scar doesn’t remind me of everything I’ve ever lost when I stare at it now. It reminds me of everything I’ve gained. Of the family I’ve made out of the Wild Hunt. I look up at Nollix. His electric gaze is pinned on me, waiting for what I might say or do next.
I trust him. Nollix and Carver might be the only ones I can trust in the entire kingdom. And I wasted so many years avoiding them, wishing to escape them.
