The Ruby Blade

by Amy Cissell

  He turned and looked at me, and I was shocked at how little emotion was showing. Not even a wink to let me know that we’d get through this.

  “Girl,” Marie said. “You will be my guest until the Equinox. Until you can be bound against your future good behavior, I will hold your witch. She will be released, unharmed, on the equinox as long as you refrain from damaging me, my people, or my property.”

  I turned and saw that Florence was being held by two human servants who were shivering madly.

  “Someone cuff her,” Marie said. “Cut off her access to her power.”

  She was cuffed and dragged off.

  I pulled myself together. “How will I know that you will keep your word and not hurt her?”

  “You will see her daily. I will have someone show you to your room.”

  “May I?” Raj asked.

  “No,” Marie replied at the same time that I did.

  “How could you?” I yelled at him mentally. He didn’t answer.

  “Thank you, Raj,” she said. “You have made this easier than I thought.”

  He bowed. “My sword for the binding and eventual head of the pretender. It is an easy deal to make.”

  I heard Marie laugh that eerie laugh as I was dragged out of the throne room. Just as the door closed in my face, I heard Raj’s voice in my head. “Do not forget.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  I WAS HANDCUFFED with iron cuffs into a very dungeon-like room. The cuffs burned and pissed me off, the result of which was the conflagration of what had been the bed. Probably had bugs anyway. No one came in to put it out, and things got a little warm before I got myself under control enough to dampen the flames myself.

  I spent the first twenty-four hours of captivity being pissed off. No one came to see how I was doing after the first person had to stop, drop, and roll when he got too close. I was trying to relax and simmer down so that I didn’t accidentally fry any of Marie’s vamps and negate my safety agreement for Florence.

  I was trying to believe in Raj, to trust him, but he’d given over the key to my binding to strangers. Lots of strangers. I wasn’t too keen on having Marie, her vamps, and her blood donors all in the know. Once I stopped sparking, I started getting hungry and thirsty. I called as loudly as I could, “I promise not to light anyone on fire! Could I have a glass of water?”

  About twenty minutes later, a human scurried up to the door and shoved a tray of food and water through the hole that seemed specially designed for that purpose before running off as fast as they could. The food was pretty good, and the water was cold and clean. I inhaled the food in seconds and washed it down with the water. I was still hungry, but it had taken the edge off.

  The thought crossed my mind that Raj was still working with me but couldn’t tell me what he was doing because he didn’t want Marie to lift it out of my mind. I decided to just be angry at him because even if he was still playing for my team, he’d gone so far off script that I couldn’t figure out how he thought this was working for me. My metaphors were getting mixed, and I didn’t even care.

  Shortly after I ate, Florence was escorted to my cell. She was still cuffed as well, but she looked perfectly calm. Since she almost always looked perfectly calm, it didn’t relax me much at all.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “As well as could be expected,” she replied. “Better than you, it looks like. I didn’t burn up all my furnishings in a fit of pique.”

  “A fit of pique? Raj betrayed me and handed over the knowledge that is the key to binding me!”

  “You knew he was going to betray you. I told you, Marie told you, Raj confirmed that he would. Why are you surprised?”

  “We were dating! We made plans!”

  “That means he thinks you’ll forgive him. So be patient.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re not going to be tattooed with iron.”

  “Don’t borrow trouble,” Florence counseled.

  I was getting pissed off again. “You should probably go,” I said. “I don’t want to light you on fire.”

  She laughed, and sparks flew from my fingertips. She and the guard exited. She was telling him he didn’t have anything to fear, but by the increased frequency of his footsteps, he wasn’t buying it.

  Life quickly became monotonous. I was fed twice a day at which time someone scurried in to empty my chamber pot. Once a day, Florence was brought by to prove that she was alive and unharmed. She tried to encourage me to patience and optimism, but I was getting angrier the longer I was confined. Between my confinement, my increasing hunger, and the fact that I could feel the gate energy reaching for me and couldn’t step into it to affirm our connection, I was a hair’s breadth from snapping.

  After approximately a week as Marie’s ‘guest’—I was losing track of time—Marie herself came to visit.

  “Hello, child,” she said. “I wonder if you’ve had time to calm down and think about the words that were used in Raj’s audience with me last week?”

  “I’ve done nothing but think about what happened,” I snapped.

  “But have you considered the words?”

  I stared at her, not sure what she was getting at. She smiled enigmatically and left.

  I thought back to the audience and realized almost immediately what she was getting at. Over and over, they’d used the term “the pretender” and had called me “the girl.” Medb had asked for the pretender, and Raj and Marie had talked about binding and killing the pretender. No one had mentioned me by name once the negotiations started.

  Medb might think I was a pretender, but if I wasn’t, if I was a genuine candidate for the throne, then any promises made wouldn’t apply to me. I was still pissed at Raj for the information too freely given about the tattoo binding, but now I was wondering more what Marie’s end game was. No one had mentioned dragons or anything beyond my well-known propensity to light things on fire when I was upset. Something was up, and no one had bothered to tell me what. Motherfuckers. I hated being left in the dark. I headed that line of thought off before I accidentally literally created light by setting my few remaining furnishings alight.

  I wondered what kind of proof was necessary to prove I was a genuine candidate for Medb’s throne and how I would go about doing that. It was becoming more and more unlikely that I wasn’t going to avoid taking—or at least trying to take—the Dark Throne.

  My new knowledge about pretenders and unnamed girls aside, there was still the matter of the tattoo, as I discovered a few days later when the Fae tattoo artist showed up.

  He was protesting vociferously about being made to do a tattoo by candlelight in a dungeon. I wondered how he would power the tattoo gun, but when he was unceremoniously ushered into my cell, I saw that wasn’t going to be an issue. He was carrying a pot of ink and something that vaguely resembled a fat syringe.

  The servant who was accompanying him set up a stool and then went back into the hallway and grabbed a folding massage table and brought that in. I was briefly uncuffed, dragged to the table, and then had my wrists recuffed under the table once I was in position.

  “Her Majesty wants a word before you begin,” the servant said.

  “Of course,” the Fae said. “Like I’m going to live through this anyway,” he muttered once the door had closed.

  “Hello,” he said to me. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t be here. I don’t want to be here, and I wouldn’t willingly work this kind of tattoo magic, especially not on you.”

  I didn’t know how to tell the truth and be gracious, so I just smiled. Or attempted to. Based on the expression on his face, it came across as more of a glower than anything else.

  “You can call me Dave,” he said.

  “You can call me Eleanor,” I replied.

  “I cannot, for I am of the Dark Sidhe, and I recognize you, Majesty.” He bowed.

  I perked up. “Really?” Maybe I’d finally found an ally.

  He closed his mouth and busied himself setting up. He mo
ved the tall candlesticks that had been provided closer to the table for maximum effect and fiddled with the position of his chair. There wasn’t a lot to prepare.

  I sighed and closed my eyes. I hadn’t been calm enough to meditate since being imprisoned. The iron cuffs kept me from shifting, but I’d been able to tap into my dragon senses in the past without having to fully shift. I mentally kicked myself for not thinking of it sooner. I reached deep into myself and found my dragon-self, but when I tried to imbue my spirit with the dragon’s, it was like hitting a brick wall. Over and over I tried and failed. Dammit. I was going to have to figure something out on my own. I concentrated on my dragon form and tried to send my awareness into the tattoo that held its power. I simultaneously felt my wings flex and my skin crawl where the tattoo was located on my back. I experimented and was able to walk the tattoo around my body until it was tucked underneath me in hollow of my belly.

  No one had removed my shirt yet, so Dave didn’t notice that my tattoo was taking an unscheduled walkabout.

  A few minutes later, the door opened. I jumped and was gratified when I heard Dave do the same. Marie was stealthy as fuck.

  “It’s part of the job description,” she said. “David, thank you for coming.”

  “My tattoo studio never hoped to rise to such prominence as to be recognized by Your Majesty.”

  She laughed. “You do your race credit. I enjoy hearing the ways the Fae can use the truth.” She jutted her chin at me. “What do you know of your canvas here?”

  I twisted my head to try to get a look at Dave’s face. His light brown skin paled a bit by the candlelight, and he gulped. “What do you want to know?”

  “Who is she?” I saw Marie’s eyes flash green and Dave’s face went slack.

  “She told me to call her Eleanor. She is the catalyst. The world breaker. The one who will open the gates and bring forth our salvation.”

  That sounded so much nicer than the other prophecies. I liked being a savior as opposed to a destroyer. Dave was my new favorite person.

  “What else?”

  “Eochaid, King of the Light Sidhe, has claimed her as his daughter. It is believed she was born of Eithne, his first wife; but that is only rumor, and no one knows her true parentage. Some believe she is Eochaid’s get with an unknown concubine. Some think Eochaid was unable to spark life in Eithne’s womb, so she went outside the wedding bed to find someone who could—and those that believe that story are of two camps as to whether or not it was with Eochaid’s blessing. The one thing everyone seems to agree on is that she is important, has noble blood, and will change the world.”

  I was interested now. No one had ever told me this story before.

  “And who is her father?” Marie asked.

  Dave started convulsing, and Marie touched him. “Rest a moment.” He slumped over.

  “Isn’t that interesting?” she asked me conversationally, perching on the little chair next to my head.

  “Very.”

  “I wonder why he can’t talk about your biological father?”

  “He’s dark Sidhe,” I said, trying to keep our conversation as friendly as possible. I was sensing my jailer was an ally, although I wasn’t yet sure how that was going to shake out. “If Medb doesn’t want people to know, would she be able to place a nation-wide geas on her people?”

  Marie cocked her head to one side. “I don’t know. I am not Fae, and it seems as though these are not questions I’d like to ask of those in my court who are here from Medb.”

  “She has representatives here?”

  “Did you think she and that elf of yours would take only my assurances that I would do as they asked? Foolish child. They know I can lie and fully expect me to do so. Her minions come peer at you while you are sleeping, and I had this Fae present himself to me in full court before coming down here. Even now, I suspect I will soon hear the pitter-patter of little feet that signals someone is coming by to check on the progress.” She sighed. “I suppose I should wake him up and let him get started.”

  She stood and looked down at me. “Let me prepare his canvas for him, though.” She pulled a long knife from a scabbard at her belt, and I blanched when it disappeared from my view. A second later, I felt the material of my shirt lift off me and heard the sound of ripping cloth as she cut it from my back. “But where is your tattoo?” she asked. “I’ve seen it on your back.”

  I guess Medb’s flunkies weren’t the only ones watching me sleep. I shuddered. “It’s hiding,” I said shortly.

  “Oh, child,” She laughed that fingernails-on-a-chalkboard laugh. “I will walk away, and David will wake up. Raj and I provided him with the ink, and he will not remember our conversation. Please let him tattoo your dragon.”

  She knocked on the door of my cell, and a few moments later, someone opened it and let her out. It clanged shut, and David began stirring. I thought about what she’d said, what she’d implied, and decided that I was going to have to trust her. I moved my dragon tattoo back to its original position.

  David stood up, looked around a bit confused, and then looked down at me and said, “Alright, are we ready then?”

  I didn’t reply, but he didn’t seem to need one. He got his instruments, filled the syringe-like implement with the ink, and got to work. The instant the ink hit me I started screaming. It burned like liquid fire, and the agony was like nothing I’d ever felt before. It felt nothing like the original tattoo, nor like being tattooed with the iron-laced dragon’s blood the first set of bindings had been done with, although I’d been unconscious for most of that. I heard David say, “Try to relax. You’ll pass out in a minute, and likely won’t wake up until I’m finished. I didn’t realize it would hurt you so much, or I would’ve brought morphine.”

  He started in again, and I cursed Raj and Marie until I slipped into unconsciousness.

  I woke much later and after returning fully to consciousness determined that Dave was gone. I was still handcuffed and face down on the massage table, and my arms were completely asleep, although my stomach was wide awake and complaining. I wiggled, trying to bring feeling back into my limbs. I heard footsteps approaching. It sounded like five people. I turned my head and watched as the door creaked open. A servant backed into the room and then bowed in the other four individuals. Marie led the group in and was followed by two Fae I’d never seen before. Behind them was Raj. I felt hot anger spark within me, but it didn’t warm me, and the figurative sparks of anger did not become literal.

  “It is as I told you,” Marie said. “She has been bound. The Fae walked over and examined my back with interest.

  “How do we know this binding will hold? That you bound her properly?” The tall, thin one that moved like kelp in the ocean; waving back and forth sinuously and gracefully, but looking like one good wave would uproot him.

  “I will remove her handcuffs, and we can see. As you may have noticed, her anger was so strong in the initial days that she burned her furnishings. She also lit one of my servants on fire, although I do believe that was accidental. If we release her from the iron handcuffs now, if she is able, she will burn us all.”

  “Not if she’s in collusion with you,” the smaller Fae who was so successfully glamoured that I couldn’t tell what he was. His voice was rich and sonorous, and it reminded me of hearth and home, and he brought with him the faint scent of wood smoke. He was a brownie, I decided. He flashed a grin at me and sharp fangs, glistening with saliva and blood, broke through his glamour. Not a brownie then. My stomach twisted in nausea.

  “You see the tattoos, and you heard her scream until she passed out. You see the iron manacles and met with my burned servant. You were in court when this one,” she indicated Raj with a negligent wave of her hand, “gave her to me. You heard her anger, saw her shock. The bargain I made with your Queen was not something that I could break.”

  Marie reached for the large key ring on her belt and selected an old, gothic looking key. “I will unbind her chains. She will eith
er burn us with her innate fire or she will not. If she does not, you will agree that I am upholding my end of the bargain.”

  “You promised the head of the pretender.”

  “I did. But I want the gates opened first, so I bound her. After the gates are opened, if the pretender still lives, I will deliver the head of the pretender to the Queen of the Dark Sidhe.” Marie bent and unlocked my cuffs. I flexed and then cursed as the blood started flowing back into my arms.

  “She isn’t even trying to shift,” the not-brownie said.

  I glared at him. “I’m mostly just trying to get the blood moving in my arms, asshole.”

  The tall one leaned forward and prodded my back. “This is good work. It must have taken hours.”

  “Sixteen hours,” Marie confirmed. “He complained about the lack of electricity the whole time.”

  Sixteen hours. No wonder I was so hungry.

  The tall one poked me again, and I whirled on him. I was pissed, and I tried to call some fire to me to intimidate him at the least, but nothing happened. I gaped at my fingertips. I hadn’t been able to call the fires for very long, but it had become part of me, and I’d gotten used to having a weapon. I poured my consciousness into my dragon-self and tried to flex my wings. Nothing happened, but I felt incredibly nauseated.

  “Fuck!” I said. I turned and tried to see over my shoulder. I could barely see, but there were manacles on each of the four legs with chains leading to stakes in the ground and an iron band that wrapped around the midsection, pinning the wings down. He’d been thorough. I had a brief moment to wonder if he’d been killed after, as he’d suspected he would be, or if he’d managed to live through this experience.

  I looked up and found Raj’s eyes. He was completely impassive, and I was angrier than I’d ever been in my life. “You did this,” I hissed at him. “I trusted you, and you did this.”

  “Eleanor,” Marie said. “Can you please tell these two gentlemen how you’re feeling right now?”

  “You fucking bitch,” I said. “You bound me.”

  “And can you call fire?”