Veiled Fae: A Why Choose Fantasy Romance (Fractured Fae Book 2)

by Jarica James

  As my hands brush down the front of my clothes, I hit a small lump and my heart stops.

  “Dormy?! Are you alright little buddy?” I ask as I frantically check my pocket. My mouse squeaks at me, though it isn’t as enthusiastic as usual. Tears stream down my cheeks as relief overwhelms me. It helps to know at least one thing is going right. I set my tiny companion down and hear his tiny feet scurrying around the room. If anything, maybe he can at least escape and survive, even if I can’t.

  As time passes, I start to pace the room, running my hands along the wall so I can visualize the space and assess an exit. The lack of sound from outside is disorienting and all I can hear are my footfalls and panicked breaths. But even those small sounds help to ground me.

  The walls are rough brick, wet and icy as I run my quickly numbing fingers over it. The issue is that I don’t feel a door, bars, or a window to indicate how I got in here. There’s a possibility I was dropped from above, but I’m hoping there’s another explanation.

  Next I feel around the floor, only finding a small bucket and a blanket. Two items are apparently all the king thought I deserved. No food, no water… how will I survive? That thought leaves a cold sense of dread arcing through me that I don’t even bother to squash it. Every emotion, every feeling, helps make me feel alive.

  “Hello! Can anyone hear me?” Desperation has me calling out despite the fact I know it’s useless. My voice echoes around me, causing my panicked body to jump. When no response comes, I scream again, over and over until my throat is sore and tears begin running down my cheeks.

  “Come on, Bella! You are tougher than this!” I scold myself out loud.

  Oh great, now I’m already going crazy and talking to myself and I just woke up.

  With nothing else to occupy my time, I pace my cell for hours, but no food or guards appear. I know that the king means to break me, and I can’t let him. I can be stronger than this. I have to be. For my men, for my friends, and all of the fae relying on me to give them a future.

  I restlessly spend hours pacing the room before I can’t stand the hunger or thirst. Defeated and broken, I finally drop to the blanket and curl up on the floor. Dormouse scurries over and nuzzles his way into my hair for warmth. I fall asleep stroking a finger over his soft fur, finding comfort in not being alone.

  Isolation, Day 9

  I mark the ‘days’ on my wall using a loose stone. I have no way of truly knowing the time or days, but I just mark it by my sleeping habits. I’m sure it’s not the most accurate system, but it’s about all I have in me.

  Every three days a jug of water and loaf of bread are delivered like clockwork. I ration them the best I can, but I’m weakening with each passing day. Bread and water may sustain me, but with no real food to give me sustenance, I won’t survive for long.

  The days of isolation are long and torturous. Slowly, I can feel my mind slipping away in the lonely darkness. Spending hours on end worrying how I’ll get out of this one and waiting for my magic to come back is mentally draining on so many levels. The fact my men are statues while I sit here helpless is even harder.

  My skin is covered in dirt and the stench in the cell is appalling. The gritty feeling drives me even closer to losing my mind. I’ve never felt so disgusting and weak in my life and I hate the feeling. I just want a shower and to feel the sun on my skin again.

  As the days fly by, my brain just grows into a conflicted mess. Every thought I have is countered by its opposite, snowballing until I’m rocking back and forth, muttering to myself as the king did.

  The moment I think about my Jacob and the ways he makes me smile, I remember how I failed him and let him get captured or frozen by the king. I think about Bowen who would crack jokes to lighten my dark mood. Emrick who is rough, yet gentle. He would run his fingers along my face and tell me how strong I am. Maddox who wouldn’t be afraid to give me the stern pep talk I need to break out of this. And finally, my Gerwyn, who pretends to be nerdy and quiet, but really is a skilled assassin with more knowledge than anyone I’ve ever known.

  I’ve come to depend on the four fae knights far too much, but we complement each other so well that it comes naturally. Before all this they depended on me as well, even if I never truly understood how much. I grounded them as much as they did for me, and I’m bringing them back a world they thought was lost forever. We make the perfect team. Or at least we did.

  But now I’ve lost us everything.

  Thoughts of my frozen family eat away at me with each passing moment. Tears track down my face until I’m sobbing into my threadbare blanket. My matted hair falls over me, but it doesn’t matter since I can’t actually see. My stomach growls incessantly, reminding me that I’m starving and will probably die in this place.

  I can fight this.

  How? You have no way out.

  I can be strong.

  Can you? You just sobbed into a blanket for hours.

  They will be fine until I can save them.

  Everyone you love and care for is going to die.

  I will survive and free them.

  No, you won’t, you can’t even save yourself...

  Isolation, Day 32

  Several weeks have passed in this tiny prison. I still ration my water and meager food supplies, afraid of the day that it may not come. I don’t trust my invisible captors, but I’m grateful each time I wake up to fresh supplies. The food is likely tainted, but it doesn't matter. I have no choice, if I didn’t eat, I’d die for sure. Despite the meager servings, I make sure Dormy has enough to survive since he refuses to leave my side and save himself.

  He disappears from time to time, leaving through the tiniest of cracks in the corner of the room. Those moments are the worst, but I hold onto hope that he’s smarter than the average mouse and is magically finding an escape to this never-ending hell.

  To occupy my mind and help silence the madness, I go over every detail of our blueprints in my mind. I try to come up with new plans every day, mentally creating blueprints that I hope I'll remember when I’m free.

  Square feet, numbers, building materials, and sketches are all I can think about to the point of sick obsession. I calculate the dimensions until I can picture every new addition perfectly.

  If I stopped even for a moment, my mind would slip back into the dark musing.

  My people… will they survive without me?

  I’m the only one who can restore the lands.

  Why haven’t the Spirits come to save me?

  I’m so physically worn down and weak now that I barely move off the thin blanket. I try to fight my despair, but I’ve fallen so far that I can’t push it away any longer.

  Isolation, Day 54

  Darkness...cold...weak.

  All hope is lost.

  Isolation Day 60

  My captors have started giving me more food. Not much, but on every third day I’ve started getting what feels like fruits and vegetables, some even I can recognize. Though I have no clue where they’ve gotten them.

  The extra food helps my energy levels improve, albeit slowly. The bright side is that with renewed energy, comes renewed magic. The hollow feeling slowly starts to ebb away, and after six days I’m ready to attempt a spell.

  Letting the magic flow through me, I revel in the feeling of its power. It’s been so long that it’s almost hard to remember how strong it can be, but for now this is enough. The electric pulse of it dances along my fingertips before I close my eyes and form a ball of light. My eyelids light up with the soft glow and I crack my eyes open to see my success. At first the light is so bright it’s painful. But slowly I adjust to the change until I can look without blinking rapidly.

  Thanks to the magical orb, I can now see my dark cell, though I wish I couldn’t. It’s so gross and dingy, full of dirt and grime I’d only felt before now.

  Wanting to inspect the walls for a way out, I form a second, much smaller orb that settles in my palm. My steps are slow and meticulous as I scan the walls
closely, looking for a door or lever of any kind. But of course, there’s nothing. The only crack in the stones is where the cell is crumbling in. The ceiling is low and just as solid as the walls. I’m living in a concrete box with no way out.

  Several more days pass, but this time I occupy them by practicing my magic in any form I can, hoping it will spark a fresh idea to help me escape.

  Glaring at the wall with solid determination, I launch a particularly large fireball at it. The wall sizzles upon impact, the smell of embers filling the space. When smoke forms, I panic, realizing I just set ablaze my blanket, the only thing I have right now. It’s only after I douse it with water that I realize that was a terrible plan as well.

  With focus, comes a clearer mind. I’ve somehow pushed away the madness that was starting to consume me, hope now holding it at bay. Even if my attempts are futile, it helps to focus on fighting and thinking of any way I can kill the former King of Winter.

  Fire. Electricity. Ice. Poison. A stab wound to the heart, anything to end his reign of terror.

  When my magic fails to trigger any sort of door, I realize I need a new plan. Getting out will only happen if I literally bust down a wall, so that’s what I’ll do. My fireball may not have done much, but it scorched the wall, a good indication that it’s not charmed to repel my magic.

  Closing my eyes, I pull every ounce of magic I have into my fingertips. My skin tingles, the warmth almost unbearable as I try to contain my magic for a moment longer. Using the scorch mark as a focal point, I concentrate my magic into a large ball. After taking a deep breath, I release it, slamming it into the wall with as much force as I can manage.

  The wall lets out a low groan, but otherwise nothing happens. The entire moment is anticlimactic and my familiar friend, despair, beckons me back with open arms and a sinister smile.

  Refusing to give in, I push the dark feelings away and draw my magic into my hands once more, using the intense anger of my failure to fuel my next attempt.

  I think about my frozen family and blast the wall, I think about being held prisoner and fire it into the wall, I think about the king who brought devastation to my people and my realm and slam the wall with ice. Finally, I think about my people having to survive without me and send every last ounce I have into one final attack, powered with my raging emotions and will to live.

  With my final blast, a loud crack booms through the tiny cell and I’m thrown across the room, hitting the wall with a sickening crack. The back of my head stings, the warmth of blood trickling through my hair, but I refuse to dwell on it. As I stand, I waver on my feet for a moment before my vision clears.

  The fear of failure consumes me as I step forward, filling me until my footsteps falter and I stop altogether. This is my last bit of hope and if it doesn’t work… what then? The thought of slipping back into darkness makes my soul ache.

  Do it for them.

  That thought fuels me, forcing me to walk to the wall. There, right in the center, the stone shattered a small fraction. Crumbling stone has never looked more beautiful and that small, insignificant hole gives me more hope than it should, but I’m clinging to whatever I can at this point.

  I did it! I can do this!

  No, you can’t, your magic is already gone again, you are a pathetic, waste of a queen.

  My inner asshole isn’t wrong, my magic feels weak now. With a sigh of frustration, I put my back to the wall and slide to the floor. Resting is my best bet, even if it’s the last thing I want to do.

  “Hello?” A small voice startles me enough that I would have fallen down if I was standing. The voice is a gravelly, yet melodic female voice. Almost as if they haven’t spoken in ages.

  Down here though, that makes sense.

  “Wait… I’m not alone?” The realization is delayed, but once it hits me, I practically fly to my feet. Spinning around, I face the hole, trying to see through to the other side, but it’s only darkness beyond.

  “Hello?” the voice comes again and I’m so desperate for human interaction I don’t hesitate to answer this time.

  “Are you really here?” Even now I have trouble trusting my own mind. There’s a muffled reply, shadowed by a cough that sounds dry and painful. That’s enough to convince me and I practically fly over to the hole, hesitant but desperate for some human interaction. I’m beyond thankful for Dormouse, but he hasn’t talked back to me yet. Although, I was taking that as a good sign that I hadn’t gone completely crazy down here.

  “Hello?” I call again, peeking through the hole. It’s so dark that I can’t see anything, even with my magic glowing in my hand.

  Despite not being able to see her, the woman moves closer, chains scraping on the stone floor. “I can’t even begin to describe how thankful I am to hear another person. Though I’m sorry that someone else is going to suffer as I have,” the woman sobs back to me. The pure, raw relief in her voice has my eyes stinging with unshed tears. Whatever I’ve been through… it’s nothing in comparison.

  “Hey, it’s alright," I soothe, though my false words hang in the air. We both see them as they are.

  A lie.

  “I appreciate the thought, but I lost hope long ago,” she replies. “My name is Allura. What is yours?”

  “Arabella," I reply. “And my companion is Dormouse. If you hear me talking to Dormy, don’t be alarmed, I promise I’m not crazy… yet," I joke, letting out a short maniacal laugh that contradicts my promise.

  Several minutes pass and I can only hear her faint sobs now, unable to even respond to me around them. I’m not about to judge someone who has been locked down here for who knows how long. I just chalk it up to her relief at hearing another voice. I don’t have to do the math to realize how damn long it’s been.

  “Did I upset you?” I ask in what I hope is a gentle tone.

  “I’m sorry, tell me about your parents Arabella," her voice is thick with emotion that I don’t understand, but I oblige her random question.

  “I couldn’t tell you, I know nothing about them. My parents had a secret relationship that put them in danger. They weren’t able to keep me," I explain softly. She makes a strangled sound that only deepens my confusion. It’s like everything I say to her sets her off more and I wonder if finding a companion was a good thing after all.

  “My lover and I went through something similar. These lands were unforgiving, and our baby wasn’t safe with us. I’ve thought of her every single day since, she’s why I’m still alive." Her voice sounds so heartbroken I have to change the subject. I’m too worn down for a case of the feels.

  “How long have you been here? How have you survived?” I ask, almost dreading the answer. Please don’t let her say years or something equally as horrifying, I think as I close my eyes and take a deep breath in anticipation.

  “Time is meaningless down here, but years I’m sure. The last I saw of the outside was the Winter King’s last battle. The day he somehow survived and crawled back here to lick his wounds.”

  Oh, dear Gods. She’s been here that long.

  “That battle was over thirteen years ago, Earth time," I choke out, her words letting despair creep back in. “We have to get out of here. Do you have magic?” Desperation fuels my movements and I start running my hands over the stone until they’re scraped and raw.

  Now I’m the one sobbing against the wall.

  “I’m sorry,” she says, voice breaking. “He placed iron in my room, love. I have very little energy left and that is only because I was powerful. I’m lucky to still be alive around this poison.”

  “Do you have a door? Have you seen guards?” At this point, any information might help us.

  “The doorway is concealed into the wall. It’s hard to detect with little light. They were made that way to enhance the effects of isolation. As for guards, no. Somehow water and food only come when I’m asleep. Even after all of these years.” Shit! That was hardly the answer I had hoped for.

  I growl in frustration, causing Dormouse to
scurry up my clothes and nuzzle my neck. He has a way of calming my emotions. If I hadn’t found him in my apartment back on Earth, I would swear this mouse had an intelligence more fitting of a fae creature.

  I run my fingers over the stone walls, carefully this time, as I search for the hidden doorway again. Leave it to the asshole king to make his prison cells into isolation chambers.

  “Do you know where your hidden door is?” I ask my neighbor.

  “Yes, I remember from when I was thrown in here. It was long ago, but I’m certain,” she replies in a confident voice.

  “Stand back, I’m going to try and break this wall enough to climb through.” My voice is steely with determination. If I can get the poison away from her, we might have enough combined magic to make it out alive.

  She doesn’t say anything, but I hear her chains shift. When it falls silent, she finally responds.

  “I'm as safe as I can be in this room,” she says. I brace myself before Dormouse starts to squeak.

  “What?” I pull him away from my shoulder and hold him in front of my face so I can see why he’s freaking out. He moves his head pointedly to the other cell and I sigh.

  “Can you hold my pet for a moment? He wants to visit. Are you scared of mice?” I ask, not wanting to scare the woman.

  “I’m comfortable with all animals. It’s my affinity, I would love to hold him.” She sounds so excited that a smile falls into place, the first in a long while.

  A delicate and extremely bony hand slides through the small hole in the wall. I gently place Dormouse in her palm and she slowly draws her hand back in. This time I can tell she walked away because her coos fall quieter. Her tenderness toward my little mouse has me appreciating her even more.

  Refocusing, I gather my magic until the essence swirls through my entire body, itching to be set free. It’s heady to have it back at full force like this but I make myself calm down so I don’t have a repeat of the hollow, magical blackout I’d just experienced.