Daughter of Retribution (Crescent Queen Book 1)

by Wren Cartwright

  I cringed at the reference to their immortality, once again seeing Azael struck down in my mind’s eye.

  “It’s a derivative of the type of wards from adamanteis,” Nerys said. “I would not be surprised if these wards were drawing from its inhabitants. We cannot use offensive powers.”

  Callisa sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… But I could never have sat around waiting to hear from you.”

  Azael spoke quietly. “I know.”

  “No talking!” The female guard on duty barked. I had heard her when she escorted us blindfolded to the wash stations; we had her frequently. Apparently, these wards did not solve the bathing issue; we were escorted one by one every week to a washroom blindfolded, then we got to take it off in the darkness to wash. A sliver of soap was all we got to try to strip the dirt, and five minutes to clean. It was miserable, and demeaning.

  “Fine,” Callisa muttered. I pictured her bright skirts dirtied by the unclean floor and hoped that my friends would be okay being locked away in such close succession from escaping adamanteis.

  CHAPTER 19

  The days were blending, monotonous and uneventful. I was changing; something in me was chipping apart at being confined in such a small dark place.

  I thought I was made of more substantial things, thought my fortitude could withstand something like this. I may have been wrong. I was falling apart; I felt like I was going mad, hearing voices and noises that were not there. Seeing shadows in pure darkness. I ached to be outside, to feel fresh air on my skin, to take a shower longer than five minutes. If I thought about what I was missing because I was at the mercy of another, I experienced bouts of rage, of helplessness, of sadness. Azael spoke to me often, trying to alleviate the effects of loneliness.

  I often reflected on memories when I needed to escape. That night I was reminiscing about one of the many times I had spent with Sinaia, without any dire warnings or danger.

  "Darling," the spirit greeted me with a peck on the cheek and a dazzling smile.

  "I missed you." I looked down at her newest creation, a long sky blue dress, embroidered with flowers and lace.

  "I missed you as well, dear. My life in the waking world is... well non-existent, to say the least."

  I frowned in response, wondering what kind of life a beautiful, kind, socialite had.

  "I'm sure it can't be that bad." I cocked my head, examining the gardens around us. The sun shone high in the sky, birds chirped, butterflies flew, leaves rustled. Paradise.

  She shook her head nonchalantly, "it is not." She sighed before brightening once more. "How about a game?" She loved competitions, loved playing any games she could get her hands on.

  "No warnings for me tonight?" I teased.

  "Would you like a warning?"

  "No, I'm sorry!" I laughed, sitting in front of the game she had set up on a checkered picnic blanket. "I would be delighted to play with you."

  "Perfect, my dear." She laughed, a free-spirited and joyous sound.

  Panic woke me from my trance, my blessed escape from my prison. I felt like the walls were closing in on me, like I was falling into an endless void.

  “Azael,” I whispered brokenly.

  “Aeryn,” he rasped. “Try to relax.” I could feel my breathing increase, became dizzy and disoriented, but I felt so far removed from the effects. Like I was on the outside of my body looking in. I’m tired, so tired of being here, I thought. I was angry at our capture; I wanted to tear the walls down and slit Theia’s throat myself. I was scared of my anger, of my helplessness.

  “It’s so dark; it feels like I’m drowning in emptiness.”

  “The darkness is your friend, my love. Do not fear it; it accepts all with no judgments. Let it caress you; let it catch you.” My body was trembling, and the tears I tried so hard to hold back were streaking down my face.

  I took a deep breath in, held it, then let it out slowly. Repeating the process and staring at the walls until they became comforting as opposed to stifling. The pressure in my chest lessened, and the anger receded, leaving me once again with a kind of numbness in its place.

  “Thank you,” I whispered as I sank onto the hard floor.

  “Anytime, love.”

  I did not know how they survived being imprisoned for so long; I thought if they weren’t allowed to interact with the other prisoners, they would have gone insane.

  I went back into my memories.

  She had changed the scene to a forest this visit. The trees were full of blooming flowers, indicating the spring season.

  "I prefer spring," she said suddenly from my side.

  "Why?"

  "Rebirth, beauty, growth," she sighed. "Spring is vitality."

  "I like autumn," I commented, watching a pink blossom fall at my feet.

  I turned to her, taking in her long pale blue gown and her tied-back hair.

  "Why do you like autumn?" She asked, tucking a blossom behind my ear and smiling. I looked down at my pink dress and laughed at how I matched the flowers. The sleeves were capped and the neckline high. The dress looked like it belonged on a socialite in a palace somewhere.

  "Crisp air, colorful leaves, and warm blankets," I told her as we took a seat near one of the nearest tree trunks. The light filtered over her face, giving her a warm glow.

  "Those are good reasons," she smiled. "How about winter? The empty branches, the bright landscapes, the sparkle of the sun off the snow as it shines."

  "Why don't you come to see me in the winter?" I suggested. "In person. We could..." I thought hard. "I know! We could sip hot cocoa and watch the children play."

  A tear streaked down Sinaia's face, and she quickly wiped it away.

  I panicked, "I'm sorry, I did not mean to upset you."

  She gave me a warm smile. "No, for it is I who have upset myself; I am so deeply sorry dear. That would be lovely."

  I clasped her hand in mine. "Really?" I said excitedly.

  "Really."

  I snapped out of reminiscing, scratching the mark for my thirty-second day, when I heard a voice at my door. “Time to wake, lovely,” a man called out. I huffed in disgust, and I heard Azael growl. The sun goddess had not taken us out of our cells since we were placed in them. Callisa had been unable, just as we, to see our location or the layout of our holding cells, so we remained in the dark on that front.

  I wanted to grumble, to protest, to fight and scream and yell, but in reality, I was crumbling without interactions and light; I needed it desperately. So I closed my mouth, and I set aside my fight for another day, another cause.

  I heard heavy footsteps walk away, replaced by lighter ones. The doors clicked, and I stumbled out, like a moth to flame. The light from the upper windows shone down on my face, and I basked in it. Only once I had gotten my fill did I examine my surroundings. The guard who we had most often stood near the entrance to the cells. She had long black shiny hair and amber eyes; she stood at Azael’s height. I was surprised that a person with her beauty would be working as a soldier for Theia instead of any other job.

  The walls were a dirty cement grey, flecked with pinholes that light shone through. Bastien emerged from his cell next, stretching languorously and looking like he had all the time in the world to absorb our surroundings. Carwyn, however, looked murderous. Her short hair was mussed, and dark circles rested under her eyes. I knew they often chatted, though I was too far to hear them. The guard took one look at Callisa, cheeks darkening just the slightest, and turned away. I cocked my head, looking to Azael for confirmation that I wasn’t crazy. He just nodded slightly. His pale hair was dirty, as was his skin. He, once again, looked like the man I had met in the forest that first day. With ragged clothing, and dirt-covered hair, he had regressed into the old imprisoned version of himself. It hurt my heart to see him go through such a transformation after being freed the first time, only to be caged again.

  “This way,” our guard said gruffly. She led us out of the holding area and into a sizable building w
ith high, arching ceilings. The walls were a light sandstone, the floors marble. It was luxurious, and it screamed, sun goddess. Bastien, Carwyn, and Nerys followed behind Azael, Callisa, and me. We looked haggard in the light, tired and weary. The unconcentrated sun streaming through the windows taxed my aching eyes. Tears spilled, flowing down my cheeks in a steady stream at both the intensity of the light and the heat where it shone on my face. I sniffled, wiping at the wetness, and felt a cool hand slide into my right. I looked to see Azael, a tiny smile on his face, gazing reassuringly back at me. I squeezed his hand, grateful for the comfort he offered earlier. Thank you, I mouthed. He just winked, squeezing my hand back. His hair shone, despite the dirt. He looked as stunning as ever, all sharp angles and pale highlights. I wanted to stay close to his side, to draw from his strength.

  Bastien and Carwyn walked closer together than usual; some part of me hoped that they used this time imprisoned to work through their issues, but I wasn’t sure. They did spend a thousand years together, after all. The guard led us to the throne at the center of the room; it was a stunning white stone, with virtually no imperfections. The sun goddess was sitting casually, in a long sunset-colored dress with gold on her lids. Alaric stood at her one side, Iridin on the other. Next to Iridin stood a man with short brown hair and a dark brown beard. I had not seen him before; he projected malevolence. He turned to me with a glint in his eye and a frown on his face. He turned on his heel, and with one last calculating glance toward us, left.

  Alaric looked just as Callisa had described, wavy black hair and piercing blue eyes. We had told Callisa that he had lived, but she found it hard to believe. She was in tears that day, silent for the several days following. Only Azael could understand, and his cell was too far from hers to converse.

  Only now, standing next to her greatest enemy, did she set eyes upon her brother for the first time in a thousand years.

  Callisa gasped, a sob working its way up her throat. "Alaric," she whispered. Her voice strangled and weak.

  He turned cold eyes onto her, an emotionless mask upon his face.

  "Dearest sister," he began. His voice was unused and rusty, his clothes black and understated. He was built like Azael, lean and sculpted.

  "What a sweet reunion," Theia's red lips spread into a mockery of a smile.

  "I'm so glad you've found one another again."

  Azael stared daggers at the sun goddess while Callisa openly wept.

  Alaric looked to me, a cold passing glance at my hand in Azael's before fixating once more on the tears running down his sister’s face.

  "I am going to take my kingdom back," said Theia. "Back from the woman my uncultured citizens so graciously chose. But first, I need to complete my mission." Theia leveled an excited stare onto me. "And you, my dear, will help."

  "Never," I spat.

  "You will," she thundered, gesturing to a guard by her side. He was tall, taller than me. I looked up at him, felt my stomach drop at the cold grin on his face.

  "Kneel," she commanded.

  I remained standing.

  "I said, kneel."

  After a nod from Theia to her guard, he moved behind me. The guard proceeded to strike me in the back, kicking my legs out from under me so that I would land on my knees. The blow ached, the hard floor hitting me hurt worse. I winced, schooling my features and suppressing a groan.

  "Stop," Azael said, looking pained. All Theia did was flick her fingers towards Iridin and another guard. They then walked behind Azael, grabbing his arms and pinning them behind his back, effectively restraining him.

  With a small nod from Theia, the guard behind me withdrew a knife. He pulled back my shirt right above the nape of my neck and then traced the skin underneath it. The contact elicited an unwanted shiver.

  "You will help me, yes?"

  I shook my head, fearing the repercussions.

  The guard behind me pressed down heavier on the knife; I could feel a sting where he began slicing and bit my tongue to keep from crying out. Azael yelled, "don't touch her!” He struggled in Iridin's hold.

  Callisa was yelling at Alaric now, calling him a monster, a traitor. Azael was red with rage, straining to get free. The slices got deeper. It felt like a fire was on my back, like I had been lit ablaze. The pain was excruciating, and when I could no longer remain silent, I cried out, tears running down my face.

  “You’ll just heal, dear.” Theia made a bored waving motion for the guard to proceed, her face gleeful.

  Azael did something I thought I would never see in front of his enemy, he begged. “Please, Theia, please stop this.” He looked to Alaric in a panic, “you would allow this? Where did your compassion go?”

  Another ragged sob escaped me, and I could feel my body sag with the pain.

  Azael roared. I spared a glance at Nerys, Bastien, and Carwyn to see them being held back by an unseen force, yelling at Theia.

  “Enough,” she thundered. “We have all the time in the world.” A smile spread across her face. “Take them to the cells.”

  Our guard's face, the girl, was pale and blanched. She seemed out of her element. Maybe we can use her. The guard ceased cutting and let me slump to the ground, boneless with pain.

  Alaric lifted me; he smelt of cedar and oranges. He set my face in the crook of his neck, and I closed my eyes in exhaustion, resting my face in his black waves. I heard Azael growl at Alaric, and lamented that the two brothers had drifted so far, and had so much to heal. Darkness grew at the edges of my vision, and the last thing I knew, someone was stroking my face and whispering to me.

  Please be okay, Aeryn; I heard Azael murmur worriedly.

  “I’m fine,” I muttered groggily, propping myself into a sitting position with my shoulder. My back ached fiercely, less than yesterday but still a dull throbbing pain.

  Aeryn? He asked hesitantly.

  “Hmm?” I closed my eyes, exchanging one darkness for another.

  Who were you talking to?

  “You… I thought.”

  Can you hear me now?

  “Yes?”

  My power is coming back, he spoke excitedly in my head. I could barely tell the difference before, but it was clear now.

  So you can hear me? I directed the thought his way.

  “Yes,” he said aloud. He sounded awed, surprised.

  You know what this means, I told Azael. These wards are not drawing from us; if Elias gets his powers back, we could possibly escape. Excitement hit me.

  “That’s amazing news,” he rasped. Then in my head, you should heal fast, Aeryn, but I’m so sorry I couldn’t do more.

  Not your fault, I mumbled.

  Please forgive me, he begged.

  Nothing to forgive, I told him. The enticing urge to sleep pulling at me once more.

  CHAPTER 20

  Our guard’s name is Lyra, Azael told me one morning.

  How do you know this?

  She told Callisa the other day. Apparently, she thought Theia was harsh; she hadn’t seen that side of her before. She thought she was serving in the army of the beloved goddess on a mission. Not a monster.

  I huffed a tired laugh.

  Have anyone else’s powers surfaced?

  Not yet. He sounded resigned, disappointed. How’s your back doing?

  Hurts, I admitted. My back ached, it had almost healed, but I was worried some scars would remain due to the depth of the knife. I was more worried that any day Theia would bring us out for a repeat session.

  I’m sorry, he said for the fifth time since it had happened.

  It wasn’t your fault, Azael.

  I should be there to hold you, to comfort you. To rub salve on your wounds and rest by your side. That is my fault; I should have taken down Theia at solstice. Should have broken out of adamanteis earlier, should have never dragged you into this in the first place, he said bitterly.

  I inhaled a sharp breath—finally, the root of his guilt. I chose to come. I decided to be here by your side, to free Sinaia. D
o not put this on yourself, I warned.

  He sighed, loudly and tiredly. I scratched another mark on the wall, feeling for my previous marks with my fingers. Thirty-six days. I felt like I would disappear in the darkness some days. Some I just sat in silence, contemplating my life, what had led me there. Others I replayed all my happiest memories, trying to remember the feelings associated with them. Wondering if I had any right to feel so depressed when my… Azael had done this for a thousand years and did not let it eclipse who he was.

  I had been lying on my side, tracing shapes into the dirt, lamenting my freedom when Azael suddenly spoke. Lyra is going to help us.

  I bolted upright, setting a dirty hand on the wall separating us like I could touch him through the stone.

  He continued. She seems smitten with Callisa; she wants to help her escape and agreed to help us.

  I felt like cheering, like screaming in excitement. I longed to feel the fresh air on my face, the sun, the stars, the grass under my feet. I felt tears of excitement well up and quickly blinked them away.

  I need to see you, I whispered. I missed his warm body, his joking and laughing, his mussed pale hair, and his strong hands on me.

  Need to see you as well, love.

  Time passed quickly in my excitement, and before long, Lyra was opening the doors to our cells.

  “She’s going to take you out of your cells tomorrow,” Lyra whispered. Her black hair seemed dull with stress, but her features shone with excitement. When Azael first told me, I was under the impression that Lyra admired Callisa, and Callisa was using her. But I saw Callisa’s face when she looked at Lyra; it was filled with affection. Nerys groaned, and Carwyn gravitated towards Bastien. Azael had taken my hand the second I left the cell and had not let go since. I wrapped my arms around him tightly, loving the feel of his warm embrace. I felt deprived of his touch. I had gone too long without it. I buried my face in his pale curls, inhaling his woodfire and oak scent. He clutched me back, holding me tightly as he thrust a hand into my hair, tilting my head back for a firm kiss. His lips were warm against mine, the kiss sloppy and welcoming; it felt like coming home. I broke away from Azael to hug Callisa tightly; I had missed her dearly. She seemed thin, tired, but firm. I caught Carwyn eyeing Bastien after I reluctantly released Azael and wondered what progress she had made, if any.