Twisted Captive

by Patricia D. Eddy

  Releasing my chin, the King rubs his hands together. “You will be taken to the castle and put to work for my court. We could use a spinner of our own. If you refuse to perform your assigned duties, you will be punished, but otherwise, I will not harm you.”

  “For how long?”

  “That,” the King says, “is up to you.” He glances at his son. “Three nights and days should suffice at a minimum. However, I anticipate it will be much longer.”

  “Three days’ work for my father’s life? And mine? There must be some sort of catch.”

  “Oh, there is, my dear.” His lips pull into a grin, and inclines his head towards the Prince.

  “And what might that be?” Fear tightens in my chest, and the feel of the Prince’s hands on my arms makes my skin crawl.

  “For the entirety of your time with us, my son will court you. He will be able to use all of the powers of our kind—and they are many—to win your love. To be released, you must say his name and declare that you are not in love with him. Otherwise, on the night of the second full moon that passes with you as our guest, you will wed him and be bound to him forever.”

  “Aurelia, do not agree to this.”

  The hissing words seem to float on the air and wrap themselves around me like a cloak. My gaze finds Roarke again, and somehow, I know…they’re his words. But how? No one else seems to hear them. He is not Fae. I would know. And even the Fae cannot do this.

  “I will never fall in love with a Fae,” I vow and try to shake off the Prince’s grip, but he holds fast.

  “Give us your answer, Lia,” the Prince demands as he spins me around to face him. His silvery eyes mesmerize me, and even with Roarke’s voice in the back of my mind, I have no choice. I have to do this or my father and I will both die.

  “I agree to your terms.”

  Chapter Three

  Roarke

  No!

  At my sides, two other magic-bearers, Valinor and Crux, struggle to hold me back.

  “Watch yourself, Roarke,” Valinor hisses in my ear. “You cannot best the King. Not with four guards protecting him.”

  Crux mutters quietly, “His obsession with that outcast will get him killed one day.”

  When I growl and meet his gaze, Crux falls silent. Smart. My dragon is so close to the surface, I fear I will lose control. “If you ever refer to her as ‘less than’ again, I will personally rip out your heart and feed it to you.”

  The warlock seems to deflate before my eyes, but he does not release his hold on me. The spelled ground siphons our magic, and if we are not careful, the King will sense us. I suspect Valinor is a werewolf and has been hiding that fact for decades.

  Aurelia stands perfectly still, caught in the Prince’s thrall. Damn Fae and their ability to compel their human victims. The King summons a long black rope with a snap of his fingers, then gestures to Aurelia. Wordlessly, she presents her hands, wrists crossed, and the rope wraps around them so tightly, pain flits across her beautiful features.

  Another length of rope winds around her torso, effectively binding her arms to her slender frame from shoulders to elbows.

  Still, she barely flinches until the Prince pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and blindfolds her. Aurelia’s chest heaves, and I can scent her fear even from across the square. The end of the rope dangles from her bound wrists, and the King uses it as a leash, gripping it tightly and yanking her forward, hard.

  She stumbles and crashes into his chest, but he shoves her towards his son who catches her and strokes his hands down her sides, all the way to her hips.

  My dragon rails against his confinement, and if he were a physical being, he’d claw through my chest in his rage. I cannot watch the woman I hoped would one day be my mate suffer like this, but if I attack now, I am assuring my death as well as hers.

  “Let. Me. Go,” I say. “I will not attack them. But I cannot let her out of my sight. Not until I must.”

  Whatever Crux and Valinor hear in my voice assures them if they do not do as I ask, they will die, and they release my arms, but Valinor steps in front of me before I can follow Aurelia.

  “We have survived this long because we do not make trouble, Roarke. This may be a pitiful existence compared to what we once knew, but we are still alive. See that you stay that way.”

  I nod, clapping him on the shoulder as I duck around him to the edge of the square.

  The King leads Aurelia away, the Prince as his side, and I skirt the realm’s tavern and hide in an alley, pressing my forehead to the cool stone wall.

  Bide your time. She is guaranteed to live for the next three days. The Fae do not lie. Tonight, you can try to find a way into the tower and rescue her.

  I do not know what I will possibly do after that. They will come for us. But I cannot let her suffer there alone.

  They’re coming closer. To reach the tower, they will pass my hiding spot, and I sink further into the shadows. “Please,” Aurelia begs. “Take off the blindfold. I am not fighting you.”

  “You belong to us now, and you will obey,” the King snarls and jerks the rope again. Aurelia falls to her knees with a whimper, and my dragon roars in my head, desperate to put an end to her tormentors.

  The Prince lifts her to her feet, and his smooth voice makes me want to rip out his throat. “There, there, my sweet, Lia. You will soon come to trust us. We know best. I know best.”

  “Never,” she hisses.

  “You say that now. But once you are within the tower walls, you will understand.” He slaps her ass, and she yelps.

  “Do not touch me!”

  “Enough!” The King stops and holds out his hand. “Handkerchief. Now.”

  One of the guards passes him a strip of cloth, and he gags Aurelia tightly. “I tire of her protests, son. I want her locked as far from my chambers as possible. Humans are so...loud, and this one will scream. I am certain of it.”

  Fuck me. If the Prince harms one hair on her head, I will find a way to let my dragon eviscerate him. The Fae’s only weakness is iron, and they believe they have rid the realm of every last bit of it. But surely…some must remain. This land is ancient, and they stole it a mere two centuries ago. If I can find even a small amount…I can weaken them. Perhaps enough to kill them. With the King dead, the magic that keeps us all prisoner will fall, and I can escape this place with the woman I love.

  Aurelia

  The ropes make it hard to breathe. They’re so tight, and without being able to see, I take short, quick steps, terrified with every one that I’ll fall again. That the Prince will put his hands on me. That he won’t be satisfied with a quick grope, and will touch me in places no man has ever been.

  The dirt turns hard under my boots, and the warmth of the sun fades. This time of year, the nights last only an hour or two, so it can’t be dark on the other side of the blindfold, but wherever we are, the sun does not wish to be.

  The corners of my mouth ache from the rough fabric gagging me, and my hands are numb. Three days. I can resist for three days. There is nothing the King or the Prince could possibly to do to me to persuade me to marry that bastard in so short a time. They will force me to work. But he swore he would not harm me.

  The King utters words in a language I do not understand, and the sounds of stones scraping against one another send a shiver down my spine. We’re at the castle, and though I have no choice, I pull against the ropes, desperately trying to get away—but bound, gagged, and blindfolded, there’s nowhere I could possibly run.

  A snap of fingers is quickly followed by the Prince throwing me over his shoulder like a sack of grain. My hands are pinned under me. I flail my legs, hoping to catch him in a delicate spot, but he clamps a second arm around my calves and holds them tightly to his chest.

  The bouncing as he climbs set after set of stairs makes me want to vomit, but I swallow the urge and try to count. At least twenty floors. We must be close to the top of one of the towers.

  Metal. A heavy lock. The creak of
wood. And then I’m back on my feet, pushed against something hard and thin that runs vertically down to my feet. A beam, perhaps? More ropes wrap around me, binding me to the beam all the way down to my knees. I cannot move, and I scream through the cloth between my teeth.

  “This is your new home, my sweet Lia,” the Prince says, his voice dripping with fake concern. “I do hope you enjoy your time here.” His lips brush my parted ones, and I’d recoil if I had anywhere to go.

  He would not leave me here, would he? Bound and gagged, unable to move or lie down? All night?

  Footsteps recede, the door slams and locks, and I start to cry. Yes. That is exactly what he intends to do.

  Chapter Four

  Aurelia

  Time means nothing trapped in a perpetual haze of pain and fear. My only indication it passes at all is the hunger and thirst building inside me, the weakness of my limbs, and the pounding in my head.

  The ropes cut into the skin of my wrists, my tongue is bone dry, and I’m bound so thoroughly, I can’t even sink down to the floor to rest my aching feet. More than once, I’ve fallen asleep for a moment or two, then woken to the agony of my entire body bucking against the restraints.

  The worst, though, is the silence. It makes me grateful for the pain, because it proves I still live. I do not know what I believed would happen when I stepped inside these stone walls, but it was not this.

  With nothing but my thoughts to distract me from the unending fear I will die before anyone comes back for me, I try to recall happier times. My grandmother’s kindly face, the way I’d sit at her feet and play with my simple straw doll as she told stories.

  “Your grandfather was whip smart,” she says as she brushes my hair. “He found scraps and shavings of iron scattered through the realm, and he collected them. He was determined to forge a weapon—just in case he ever found a way to kill the King. Your mother was but a young thing. Only eighteen when he’d collected enough iron to make a single blade. He intended to put an end to the Fae’s control of us and free the entire realm.”

  I stare up at her, wide-eyed and confused. “But we are not free.”

  She sighs, and her eyes turn sad. “He convinced fifty of the realm’s strongest men to join him, and many more pledged their support, though they were hesitant. On Market day, the fifty of them surrounded the Fae King and his guards. Your grandfather was quick, and he stabbed one of the guards with the iron blade, then tried to kill the King. But a second guard jumped in front of the King at the last moment.

  “He started a war—the only war we have ever fought with the Fae. But it lasted less than two days. The King and his court used their magic to ruin the lands. The sheep started to die, the crops withered, and darkness blanketed the realm. They poisoned the water, and by the second morning, more than a hundred were dead, and all fifty of the men who’d participated in the attack surrendered themselves to the King. That was the last I ever saw of your grandfather.”

  I force my head up, the only part of my body I can control, and try to stretch my neck. It does little good. My father is safe. For now. The King promised he would remain free, and though the Fae are evil tricksters, they cannot lie. That is my only comfort.

  Some time later, the door opens with a loud thunk, and I jerk in my bonds. Terror sends my heart racing, my breaths tearing from my chest in short, frantic pants.

  “You poor thing.” The Prince’s smooth voice is right next to my ear, so close I whimper weakly as my instincts kick in and I try to pull my head away. But he grabs a fistful of my hair. “Stay still, my bride, and I will ease some of your discomfort.”

  Not your bride.

  He loosens the gag, ripping it from my mouth and sending the worst pain I have ever felt along my tongue and the corners of my lips where the fabric had stuck. I scream, and he covers my mouth. “You must learn to behave, or I will silence you another way. Perhaps one much more permanent.”

  Sobbing, I nod, and he removes his hand. At this point, I’ll do anything he wants if he’ll just untie me, and I am about to tell him so when the ropes fall away, so quickly it must be by magic, and I collapse into his arms.

  My body holds no strength, and he carries me a few steps, then sits with me in his lap. I can feel his erection pressing into my bottom, and I want to shove at him, but I cannot move.

  Something presses to my lips, and then the sweetest taste fills my mouth. My grandmother’s warning echoes through my mind a moment too late.

  “Do not accept food or drink from the Fae’s hand. Their magic will consume you, and you will never want to leave them.”

  I swallow on instinct, my hunger and thirst in this moment overwhelming, and the Prince croons to me in his native tongue, words I don’t understand but that I know, deep down, are meant to sway me, to bind me to him in a way I cannot allow.

  Still, I do not resist, and my body floats as I drink my fill. I’m only dimly aware of him laying me down and brushing his lips to my cheek. “You will come to love it here, my sweet Lia. And you will love me. I know it.”

  I still can’t see. He never removed the blindfold, but even if he had, I lack the strength to open my eyes. Sleep pulls me under, and in my dreams, he comes to me, comforts me, and I want to give in, but then a deep voice—one I recognize but cannot place—sends warmth all through me.

  Fight him, Aurelia. I will come for you. Even if I must die, I will save you.

  The Prince

  My beauty rests, the sweet draught I gave her too powerful for any being to fight. Blindfolded, helpless, lashed to the post in the center of this barren room, she was perfection when I entered. Her pain strengthens me, feeds my power, and the more I make her suffer, the more she will desire me.

  “Come,” I command, and two of the King’s guards enter the room. One carries a spinning wheel, and the other balances a bale of straw across his shoulders. My father’s plan is brilliant. Give her an impossible task, punish her severely when she fails, and then offer her another bargain. One she will be too weak to refuse.

  My father claimed my mother in a similar fashion, though my methods will be slightly more...severe. After all, this human woman was strong enough to offer herself in sacrifice to save that pitiful drunkard, Abbot. She will not sway to my side easily.

  “Pile the straw three bales high along that wall,” I say, and the guards nod, leaving the room to retrieve the rest of what I am certain will become the thing my future bride hates most in this world.

  When nine bales line one side of the tower room, I dismiss them, taking a final moment to watch her sleep. Already I can sense her emotions. Her fear of me abates with the draught and my magic, and something akin to gratefulness replaces it.

  After all, it was the King who bound her. I released her. Saved her. And tomorrow…I will begin wooing her.

  “Did you see to your new pet?” the King asks as I join him in his favorite sitting room.

  I sink down onto thick cushions and accept the whiskey one of the servants hands me. “I did. She drank from my cup, and the room is ready for her. She will fail your task, and when I offer her a second bargain, she will have no choice but to agree.”

  “Noelle!” My father’s booming voice fills the room, and a moment later, the woman who birthed me rushes in. She is not my mother. Not truly. I did not even meet her until I had passed into adulthood.

  “Yes, my King?” She keeps her eyes downcast, her hands clasped in front of her. Even at the human age of two hundred twenty and four, she looks only slightly older than my soon-to-be-bride. Thanks to my father’s magic.

  “Sit.”

  She hesitates for only a moment before taking her place on his lap, and I roll my eyes at the obvious display of power. His fingers dig into her hip, and she stifles a wince. “My precious, we have a new guest in the tower room. She is to be our son’s bride.”

  Noelle turns her head and glares at my father. “You swore to me you would never take another by force—“

  “I did no such thing.
” He squeezes her tighter, and she makes a sharp, pained noise. “The girl traded her freedom for the life of her worthless father. I offered her a bargain, and she took it. You understand how that works.”

  “How could you?” she whispers and swipes a tear from her cheek. “She will never leave this place, and her life will be nothing but misery and pain.”

  “Like yours, I suppose?” Father shoves her off his lap and onto the floor. “You will live centuries because of what I give you. You have the finest clothing, the richest wine, and the softest bed in the realm.”

  “You took my sons!” she cries. “You locked Adrian in chains and minutes after he was born, you had your guards take Rumpel—“

  My father backhands her, sending her tumbling, and she starts to sob. “I took the boy from you to save him, so he would not end up like his worthless brother,” the King growls. “And I offered you a bargain in exchange. You would live to see him grown, have everything you wish for—save freedom—and be revered by all who make their home in this castle. And you would retain the use of your tongue. Provided you never spoke his name again.”

  Her eyes go wide, and she clamps her hands over her mouth.

  “You have violated our bargain, and so you will suffer the consequences.” He hauls her up by her wrist and drags her from the room as I finish my drink and pour myself another.

  The pleading look she gives me as he takes her away should affect me. But instead, her fear gives me a burst of power, and I relish in it. I am a trickster, immortal, and above all—my father’s favorite son.

  My brother will never see freedom again, all because I had father’s ear and Noelle corrupted Adrian with useless human emotions. If Father had let her raise me, I am certain I would be as useless as Adrian. Thankfully, Father forbade her from even seeing me until I was grown, not wanting me to suffer the pitiful trappings of empathy and love.