by Jarica James
Letting the magic leak into my hands, I form a ball. I don’t bother to concentrate on one affinity letting them all intertwine into a volatile mix. Just like before, I launch it forcefully at the wall.
A crack resounds in the cell, a shower of debris and dust falling to the floor as the magic fizzles out. The hole isn’t big enough to crawl through, but it’s now the size of a dinner plate. And that I can work with.
“It’s safe, I don’t want to deplete my magic any further. Do you have anything in your room that’s not iron, but hard enough I can chip away at this?” I peek into the hole as I speak but it’s still useless, my glow not enough to show anything inside. I can hear the clinking of something and a thick chain is pushed through the hole.
“That’s all I have. He chained me for the first few days, but they left it after that as a warning.”
This could work.
Before I get started, I push my hand through the hole and form a ball of light, tossing it to the ceiling where it sticks. I’d kept it low since she’d be even more blinded by it than I was.
“Thank you,” she sobs again. Now that it’s illuminated, I look up as she speaks hoping to get a glimpse of her. She’s still close, and eyes as blue as mine stare back at me. My heart starts beating as the familiarity of the eyes crashes over me.
Why does she have my eyes?
Could it be her?
NO! That’s crazy!
“Who are you?” I choke out. Her sob is answer enough, and my heart fractures at the stone cold reality of it. My mom has been imprisoned in these conditions for thirteen years. I lost my mind after weeks until I found this resolve. How is she even coherent?
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she chokes out and I wait for a better answer, barely breathing. I need to hear her say it. “It was for your safety. I knew when you said your name and heard your voice. It reminds me of your fathers. I just didn’t want to get your hopes up, they can be dashed so easily in this place.”
My heart thuds in my chest at her revelation. My mother is alive? She’s this close to me? I’m crying softly now, but the news doesn’t break me, it makes my determination to get out of this cell even stronger.
“We can hug and catch up when I break free!” I yell like a war cry as I pull off a strip of cloth from my tunic and wrap it around my knuckles, before winding the chain around my hand. I use my anger at losing out on having a mother because of this asshole king, to put as much power as I can into my punches.
My underfed muscles grow tired, but each chunk of stone that rains down, urges me on. The warm wetness of blood coating the cloth and dripping down my hand, doesn’t deter me either. I briefly think of what Emrick’s reaction would be at the sight of my blood. Though I think he would be proud of my determination. A tear slips down my cheek again at the thought of my Em but it’s only more fuel for the raging inferno in my chest.
I refuse to stop until I hear a thump coming from one of the other walls in my room. I would have missed it if not for the fact I paused to catch my breath.
A large door bursts from the wall and the asshole king himself stomps in, like an angry child during a tantrum. My grip on the chain tightens at the sight.
“Stop destroying my dungeon, you insolent girl," he thunders, spit flying with his words. I face him, and without hesitation use my chained fist to lash out at him. The thud of metal meeting his jaw is nauseating, but oh so satisfying. I grin like the maniac I am now and pull my arm back once more.
Just as my fist flies toward him, he blasts me with the same magic that must have frozen the others. It feels like someone dumped icy water over my head, the trickling feeling starting there and trailing down my body until I’m immobile.
Unable to stop him in my frozen state, he jerks my hands behind me and binds my fists together. I try to call forth my magic, but the hollow emptiness is all I’m greeted with.
“Let me just show you a little something, you stupid child," he spits out as he unfreezes me and tugs me down the hall, not caring that he is leading me backwards. It takes all of my focus to not fall, especially walking backwards up the stairs at this brisk pace, but I somehow manage. It’s the miracle of the century. The thought that I’m out of the cell flickers in my mind but I don’t get a moment to think on that or take in my surroundings.
I'm bound, magicless, and weak. Fighting back isn’t an option yet, especially after my bout of angry chain slinging. Plus, the king’s swollen jaw is probably all of the damage he will allow me to inflict.
All of my thoughts stop when he comes to an abrupt stop, freezing just my feet this time. Trying not to panic at being frozen again, I glance around the room. It’s a large ballroom filled with ice sculptures. Though I know they aren’t merely sculptures, but my people. I’m nauseated at that dim reality. The fact he kept them here as trophies all these years is disturbing and heartbreaking.
Jacob and Gerwyn are in the front of the crowd, Jacob’s face is contorted in a war cry and Gerwyn’s face is twisted in a scowl. I sob, unable to stop myself, which only causes the asshole king to begin his awful, maniacal laughter. I want to knock his stupid crown off his head and stab him with the points. He doesn’t deserve to wear it. He betrayed all of the fae and Faerie itself.
How can I be related to this demon of a man?
The fact that his blood even runs through my veins terrifies me on so many levels. But that’s not important now. I’m closer than ever and I have to find a way to get them free.
The amount of frozen fae in the room is astounding. Hundreds of Fae are pushed close together, over half in battle armor still. They fill the room, some even piled in the corner and towering toward the ceiling. He had to have iced his entire town and army all in one go while the rest of Faerie fled.
The sight that fully inflames my anger is the woman holding a frozen fae baby, her sweet little face frozen in a giggle. There are also a few pregnant fae, and tons of children tucked here and there around the adults. It always struck me as odd that he managed to kill entire villages, and now we know the truth. He found a way to freeze them and brought them here.
“How? Why?” I grit out. “How did you get this many fae in here? Are they all your people? Or prisoners of war?”
“I love the ice, isn’t it beautiful?” he says, sounding calm and collected for once. I know not to trust it, but watch as he flits around, appreciating his ‘art’. “Ice subjects don’t talk back. They don’t start rebellions or run away and birth a hybrid daughter that tries to come take over my kingdom!” At the last words he loses it. His words raise in octaves as he rants, stopping in front of one fae man and gesturing wildly.
As suddenly as it started, his demeanor changes. Like he didn’t just have a creepy moment and rant about my existence.
“I guess it doesn’t matter what I tell you, you won’t get out of Winter alive," he chuckles darkly, his eyes meeting mine. His face is calm now, amused even as he paces slowly. He twirls a dagger around his wrinkled hands like he’s performing for a crowd. In a twisted way, I guess he is.
“I promise you, I won’t be dying here today. You will. I’ll be getting out of this and free every single person in this room,” I growl. Righteous indignation fills me and I meet his fiery gaze with one of my own.
My words stop his amusement, fury flashing across his face before he flies across the room at me. Instead of crashing into me, he slams the hilt of his danger into my side, using his momentum to make it more effective. The crack as my ribs break is nothing compared to the blinding pain flaring through me. I can barely move or breathe, my arms protectively wrapping around me as I try to push past the pain.
“Now, as I was saying!” he bellows out, giving me a pointed look. I just glare at him, unable to do much else and unwilling to evoke his wrath again. At least not yet.
I watch as the pudgy, unkempt fae paces the room, his unruly white hair billowing behind him in wispy waves. “I used the souls to do my bidding, they're much more agreeable than this lot
was. I have a stone that gives me control of them, you know? I used that in combination with my army to drag our prisoners here. What fun would it be ruling a dead realm? We froze entire villages and courts, bringing them here for my amusement. I even froze my own son when he tried to stop me,” he brags, flicking a hand in the direction of the frozen man he ranted at earlier.
He continues on, but my focus is on my father. Even through the ice I can see the same silver hair I have, along with a few similarities in his features. My shock is enough to forget the pain, a different kind now lancing through my chest.
Both of my parents are alive.
“You are a vile monster, a corruption of everything fae are supposed to be. How could you freeze your own son? How could you imprison his soulmate? That’s my mother down there you sick fuck!” I bite out through gritted teeth.
“That wench? She tried to corrupt my son. She used him to try and take my throne! That’s why she gets to waste away in that cell forever. It’s kind of ironic that you met her. Now you can watch your mother waste away as well.” More maniacal laughter bursts out of his mouth. I cringe, now hating the sound more than ever. It lost its creepy effect after the first few outbursts, now I just want to punch him in the throat each time he laughs.
“Your realm turned on you, it’s uninhabitable. How can you rule a dead land?” I try to use logic and his own words to unnerve him, though he may be too crazy even for that.
“My people will survive solely because of me,” he yells, using his foot to kick in my knee with a sickening crunch. He releases the ice, so I fall to the floor in a heap. The pain has me panting, sweat forming along my skin. He watches as I try to heal myself, but my magic only fizzles in response.
This is the exact reason he kept me so weak, so he could have the satisfaction of showing me that he will take my family and my crown. He can do what he wants for now, but once my magic is recharged, I will end him. It’s just pain, I have to breathe through it if I want any hope of saving them all. My survival isn’t as important, at least not to me.
“I’m not afraid of you, you’re a coward! You aren’t a king, you are a spoiled, petulant child who should be locked away for his crimes. Starting a war because of a power trip? Stealing years away from these people? You disgust me," I spit at him and his face turns an angry purple as the saliva drips down his forehead. It’s actually a fairly impressive shade to turn.
He walks over and grabs a wooden chair that was resting against the wall. He struts over to me, holding it up like a weapon. I curse myself for goading him. You just had to piss off the crazy king, didn’t you Bella?
As he stalks closer, I try to stand and face him with dignity, but my broken or bruised ribs and busted knee make it impossible. Instead I focus on the magic inside of me, willing it to replenish faster. Spirits of Faerie, please help me… please. I beg for what feels like minutes, but I get no response.
Pain explodes across my back as the king shatters the chair over me, raging about his greatness. Over and over the king brings the chair leg down on my bound and weak body. I can’t physically best him right now, and he uses it to his advantage.
Still, I pray to the Spirits for help.
He continues to bludgeon me in quick succession, crunches and cracks filling the air, though I can’t tell if they’re from my body or the abused wood. The only thing that breaks him from the trance is the chair leg mercifully breaking as it comes down on my shoulder one final time. I cough blood onto the floor in front of me, my body throbbing in time to my heartbeat. My brain is eerily silent, the pain overshadowing everything else until it’s all I know.
Both of us try to catch our breath, the king wheezing with each lungful of air. Finally, I feel a warmth spread through me, dulling the pain as my magic surges forward again.
Thank you, I tell the Spirits of Faerie in my head, unwilling to say it out loud. I now have an advantage and I don’t want him to know.
Looking around the room, I try to formulate a plan. Finally, I realize that throwing him against the wall will be my best bet. The jagged stones he chose for his ballroom will be his demise, and there’s sweet, poetic justice in that.
The frozen statues complicate the plan, surrounding most of the walls and making them harder to hit. Though the higher I throw him, the further he falls. But if he lands on a frozen fae, they may not survive, and I can’t have that on my conscience.
Then my eyes land on the fireplace. The mantle is carved from raw stone, and above it is a shield and sword display.
As if he can hear my inner plans, he finally stands and starts to circle me like a shark. Each step is exhausted, his face still a lingering red.
It’s now or never.
With that thought in mind, I lash out with my wind magic. Throwing every ounce of power the Spirits gave me into it, I slammed him into the wall right above the fireplace. His back hits the mantle with a sickening crack, his head slamming into the protruding shield above. With a feral snarl, he tries to fight my magic’s hold, but all he accomplishes is slumping to the floor in a heap.
He’s down for no more than thirty seconds before he hauls himself to his feet. My heart sinks at the sight, it shouldn't have been possible. Even his back is twisted at an odd angle and he looks more monster than fae.
If I don’t strike again, this will end in my death. That alone has me lashing out again, sweeping him off of his feet and slamming him like a ragdoll once more. This time his head hits the stone of the mantel. He drops as my magic dries up, a red streak on the stone as he falls away.
This time he doesn’t move, and neither do I. My magic is gone and my body is far too broken to continue this battle. Darkness starts to pull me in and I don’t bother to fight it.
I just hope my efforts were enough.
Chapter 8
Gerwyn
Being frozen in this state is a special brand of torture. My body is numb, almost like it’s a separate entity from myself now, but my mind is sharp. From my angle in front, I can see the empty center of the ballroom and the frozen statues across from me. Jacob stands to my side but I can’t get a good look at him outside of a quick glance in my peripheral.
We can see the sun rise and fall in this room, the light reflecting on the shining marble and silver, then dimming to near blackness at night. Sixty days have passed since we’ve been brought in and every day I start to lose hope. Bella has been missing since he dragged us apart and even in the king’s rantings we’ve had no indication that she’s safe.
The king’s loud rants precede him today, far earlier than usual. The sun is still up which isn’t his usual time and the man ran on schedule like clockwork. Then again, we’ve heard explosions for hours, the castle shuddering with each one. I refuse to let myself hope that it’s Bella, simply because I don’t think I could take it if I was wrong.
“Disgusting offspring half-breed. No blood of mine! Who does she think she is?! This is your fault, you know!” He stalks into view and gestures wildly to his son. The rest becomes incoherent but that was all I needed to hear.
Bella is alive. She’s safe for now.
His words give me solace, knowing she still has fight left in her and isn’t frozen here like the rest of us is enough for now.
The king stops raging and storms out at the sound of another blast as it shakes the ballroom. I have no clue what they could possibly be, but it has the king insanely mad. Well, worse than he normally is would be more accurate.
He stormed out with purpose and I pray to the Spirits that it isn’t Bella he’s going after. The thought of him harming her kills me and no matter how hard I try to break this curse, it always fails. Magic fielded by a stone of power is no match for even someone with my spell aptitude.
The sound of metal dragging catches my attention. We’ve got a view of the doorway on the left and I know he’s staged us here on purpose.
The former king stalks into the room, dragging something behind him, clutching a thick chain in his hand. The sight of
Bella has my heart filling with relief and agony at the same time. I’m relieved to lay eyes on her, but my beautiful queen is covered in dirt and grime and has lost at least twenty pounds. She’s a walking skeleton with matted hair and hollow eyes, a shadow of her former self.
I’m unable to do anything other than watch on in horror as the king talks about what he did to the realm. Bella looks like she has shrunk in on herself, bracing for the storm coming her way. He must have tortured her, the only light I can see in her beautiful eyes is that of anger and hate. She’s still as feisty as ever, hurling insults at the king any chance she can. Though at this moment I wish she’d practice self-preservation. He’s far too unhinged.
He slams his hand into her ribs and kicks her knee out of place. It doesn’t look broken, but she crumples to the ground in pain. His foot luckily just misses the point of breaking it. If I could have screamed, I would have. I try to focus everything I have on freeing myself, silently cursing the king.
My horror turns into devastation as I watch him finally break. It’s eerie to watch as a sinister smile takes the place of his normal features. He beats my precious queen with a chair until her face and skin are unrecognizable. I can’t imagine how poor Jacob is reacting next to me. This is a sight that no one should have to watch and we likely will never be able to forget. It will be ingrained into our minds until the day we die, a recurring nightmare of helplessness and horror.
I was near closing my eyes when a surge of magic sends a shockwave through the room. Bella must have needed time for hers to replenish, especially if those explosions were from her.
Bella’s jaw is stiff with determination as she locks her eyes on the vile king. She looks like an avenging angel, her magic glowing on her body, her hair whipping in the wind she’s creating.
His body lifts into the air and the look on his face would have been comical if not for the situation. I can’t hear what she says to him before he’s slammed into the fireplace, the crunching of bones is loud even over the cacophony of her magic. If it was anyone but this sadistic fucker, I might have cared. Instead, I was internally cheering her on.
