Page 9 of A Rising Hope (The Freckled Fate #3)

9

FINNLEAH

I laid still near the window on the large plush bed, surrounded by a countless misshaped pillows pretending to be asleep for what must have been hours.

The cold, silver moonlight spilled onto the thick mauve carpets through the ornate stained-glass windows. Outside, the wild ocean waves roared, propelled with gusts of wind as a storm wrestled with the mysterious fortress that Insanaria called home. The force of nature fought against the lone island lost at sea. Tall and impenetrable and so very alone.

Only cliffs, wind, and dark blue ocean with a moss-covered gray castle nestled in between. Its steep towers catching heavy clouds with its peaks.

Perhaps it should’ve come as a relief to know that there was no one else stranded on this island. No villages or towns. No guards, no servants, no cooks or maids.

No one else here but the Queen.

Only her. And now me.

I blinked faster, forcing myself to stay vigilant and awake, even as exhaustion burrowed through my eyes.

A part of me was glad there was no one else here subjected to her wrath and suffering. And yet another part of me that demanded survival was gutted by that thought. There was no one who I could convince to pass a message or a letter. There was no one who I could befriend or talk to, no one who could help me navigate the intricate details of the Queen and her shadow haunted castle.

I was alone.

I twisted back, staring at the ceiling covered with wisteria flowers—a multitude of colors dropping from the arched beams, embellishing the entire room in greens, purples, pinks and whites. This bedroom was nicer than the dungeons I thought I’d spend my night in. The lavish oversized bed was comfortable, the soft feathered-stuffed duvets gentle on my body. The faded rosy wallpaper added a touch of whimsical femininity to the otherwise daunting palace.

If I had been here on any other occasion, I’d probably marvel at the intricate décor and majestic call of a Creator to beautify the world.

But as a prisoner, a stolen bargaining chip, shackled and lost, the colors and the luxury simply overwhelmed my already overworked mind.

A sharp bolt of lightning flashed behind the window and thunder crackled through the sky a moment later, startling me. The Queen’s shadows swirled at the sudden noise.

I sat up, no longer able to lie still, each cell in my body restless. My head felt like a ton of bricks, but my thoughts stayed sharp and clear, aware of the dangers lurking around.

The thick oily fog, as if alive, lingered in the corners of the room, watching me.

Gideon had seven days to surrender, and that meant I had only six days to convince the Queen to let me go. Six days to learn as much as I could about her. Six days to get her to trust me. Six days to have her accept me as her biggest, if not the only, ally.

Six days.

Large balls of ice pounded against the glass as the storm grew louder. Each heartbeat felt wasted as I stayed in this bed.

I wiggled my wrists—sore and aching from the heavy weight of the shackles—not willing to acknowledge the small bursts of panic at the sound of the chains each time I moved.

It too . . . It ALL shall pass, eventually. I just had to be patient. I had to be smart. I reminded myself when the memories became unbearable. Viyak was free. And Gideon —I closed my eyes for a moment, fighting back the fearful tears— Gideon and I were tied for eternity. Our love reached beyond death or any earthly horror.

Truly, there was very little I had to fear. I reassured myself, taking in a measured breath.

I took another look around the room. There were papers and pens on the small desk across the bed. I considered writing a letter but dropped that idea as quickly as it appeared, remembering the Queen’s watchful shadows’ gaze on me. Summoning Liriya was a risk too great for a few measly scribbled lines.

There was nothing resembling a weapon besides a glass pitcher and a matching crystal cup. I could maybe shatter one and use a shard as a weapon to cut. But I knew no weapon could truly help me. There was no point in having one.

I couldn’t kill the Queen even if I had the biggest arsenal in the world. Not when I knew the world would end with her wild magic released in one enormous wave.

All I had, and all I needed, was the knowledge I already possessed.

Knowledge. The Queen knew of me. She didn’t know me. She didn’t know of my other powers that weren’t leashed by the Basalt Glass manacles. She didn’t know that shackles, chains, and suffocating captivity hadn’t broken me before and wouldn’t break me now. She didn’t know that I had lived, that I had survived terror over and over again. That I chose to endure, even when my mind turned on me and begged me to surrender.

I survived.

I moved a loose strand of my hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear.

In Elvish chess, Tuluma always laughed at my favorite play, where the little, inconspicuous pawn got to the very end and became a powerful queen. She always thought it was a useless move, dragging the game on for too long to accomplish such a mission. But as a child, I loved it.

A scrawny pawn that survived through every battle, through the fights and deadly threats, made it across the checkered board to the end, to become a queen, often becoming the crucial piece to win the game.

I sniffled, wiping away a small tear that slipped past the icy walls that I constructed to keep my bleeding heart at bay, ensuring my whirlwind of emotions stayed locked far away.

Perhaps I, too, was a little pawn at one time, surviving through it all.

But it was time I made my own move, blindsiding the enemy at last.

I wiped my runny nose with the sleeve of the same shirt I had worn the night before. A shiver ran through my body at the memory of Gideon’s caress, followed by the horror of my vision of his death. Death by none other than the woman that held me captive.

This time I looked around the room differently.

No, I didn’t need a weapon.

I was one myself.

I let my righteous protector, my anger, ground me, settling the worry down.

A note of confidence slithered down my spine as I swallowed hard, letting primal instinct guide me. “This will do,” I mumbled, getting out of the bed from underneath the heavy blankets. I grabbed the half empty chamber pot. The shadows hissed around the door as I reached for the handle. “I need to empty this,” I whispered. “Do you mind showing me the way?” I gave them a kind, meek and innocent smile, one I had practiced a million times before.

And they let me leave the room.

There was no light in the castle. Not a single oil lamp or a lit candle. Just darkness. Only occasional flashes of lightning illuminated the narrow passages and halls through the countless windows.

Carrying an open chamber pot was a terrible idea.

Wandering in the darkness, I tripped on some wooden trim, almost spilling the entire thing onto myself. I called upon my raging fire powers within me; a little light, a single spark, would do. But no matter how much I tried to reach my fiery magic, the clear walls would not budge, blocking me. I kept my simmering irritation well hidden, following the black shadows, like a pack of giant snakes slithering ahead of me.

I forced my eyes to focus on whatever details I could see.

The Queen might have been evil, but her strong Creator touch still lingered here. Floral decor, though faded, beautified the entire castle from the top to the bottom—a forgotten paradise. Large, living flowers, untouched by time, glided down the high ceilings, hiding the stone-cold walls with their blooms. Thick, burgundy carpets lined the floors of many halls, silencing my footsteps as I descended another flight of stairs, finally reaching the rushing waters in the brick cellar. The shadows lingered by the opening, and I followed their lead, emptying the chamber pot into the rushing spring connecting to the waterfall outside the walls.

Soon, I was retracing my steps back to my room, climbing the same set of stairs I had used to come down.

There were no pictures on the walls, I realized. No memories of anyone. No ties to the world outside. By now my eyes were well-adjusted to the darkness, and I slowed my step, observing each hall I passed.

The shadows ahead of me hissed as I froze at a turn. To the left were my rooms. To the right, an unknown part of the castle. I shuffled through the millions of possibilities of what may lay ahead, of the excuses I could conjure if the Queen appeared out of nowhere like she could.

You are an Empress of Esnox. Start acting like one. I snarled to myself, growing weary of my ambivalence.

After another moment of painful hesitation, I turned right. The shadows nipped at my heels like herding dogs as I walked in the opposite direction from my room, carefully prowling through the castle. After a few more rebellious steps, the shadows, like icy hands, wrapped around my ankles, pulling me to a stop. I let out a long sigh.

“Let’s hope this fucking works,” I mumbled to myself before reaching for the flowers near me on the wall. I managed the one Creator trick I’d mastered. With a subtle touch of my hand, the wide petals changed color, as did the stem and the leaves. The shadows eased their hold on me, mesmerized by my magic. “See, I am one of you. I am harmless,” I assured them softly, touching another flower decorating the wall, turning it a completely different color. I wasn’t sure if it would work, but to my surprise, the shadows drew away from me, giving me permission to roam the castle free.

I held on to that little victory, letting it propel me forward into the unknown.

I wasn’t sure what I would find. Perhaps nothing at all. Nothing or everything. It wouldn’t matter. I couldn’t sleep anyway, so I ascended another flight of stairs.

I reached the highest of the towers. The spiraling stairs decorated with the exquisite rug ended, leading me into a long stairwell. Dim light spilled from the opened entryway at the very end. The hairs on the back of my neck rose, alerting me to the unseen danger ahead.

The air filled with a sweet taste, and I could taste magic on my tongue as I inched closer to the open door. Each step careful and cautious.

A silent gasp reached my lips, and my eyes widened in shock as I peeked inside.

Bodies.

So many bodies. Young. Old. Female and male. Their decomposing figures were nothing more than dried husks, hung from the giant black thorns that covered the curved ceilings.

The Queen stood in the middle of the circled room with her back towards the door. Her arm moved, fingers scribbling in a thick cryptic book that laid split open in the middle on the opulent bookstand rising past her waist.

I should’ve turned and ran back. I should’ve. But I stayed, immovable, stuck to the floor.

Horror rattled my entire soul, sending every thought and every reason scrambling as I watched the Queen. She put down her large writing feather, motioning with her hand as she mumbled words I couldn’t decipher. As if on command, the thorns moved, lowering a young girl’s body down. Lifeless and pale.

The moment the thorns released her, the girl opened her sunken dark eyes.

Alive.

She was alive.

All of them were. I noticed the subtle movement of their lungs, even as their bodies hung high above.

“Where were we last?” The Queen reached for the curved ceremonial dagger on the carved table near her. The girl held still, only blinking. Alive and yet it was as if she wasn’t.

Insanaria made a slight cut at the girl’s wrists, letting the dark, almost black blood fill up a silver goblet. She mumbled more words unknown to me. Magic, like shimmering dust lifted off the girl’s skin, illuminating her lifeless, empty stare. The Queen continued chanting while slowly inhaling the glowing air.

I didn’t pay attention to the words, because at that moment the girl’s eyes met mine. And though I was hidden by the shadows cast from the open door, she saw me.

I stumbled a step back as the realization hit me.

I knew her.

I knew her.

The girl from the Rock Quarries that was taken alongside me that day.

Though her beauty was only a fraction of what she was even as a slave, I recognized her face, still clouded by the same silent hopelessness.

She didn’t scream, nor even whimper as the Queen, lost in a trance, finished speaking unfamiliar words, then gulped her blood down.

Fuck the plans.

Fuck the elaborate escape.

I was going to burn this place to the ground.