Page 8 of Bound in Violet Ink

Standing in the threshold of the castle, I’m allowed to wear pants today, even if I’m not training.

Shouldering my healer’s bag, I’m heading to the Carrows, where an insurrection from a faction not belonging to Kane resulted in the duskborn being used to control the crowd.

I heard Kane had sat back, watching. Waiting.

Observing. Until the entire place broke out in a battleground and he killed over thirty prisoners and even a few duskborn, single-handedly.

A very firm reminder that this is not an ordinary fae. His unofficial claim as the leader of the entirety of the Unseelie is for a reason. What’s said to have stopped him was a duskborn using a dagger laced with grimroot to subdue him. An option that will result in his fatality if left untreated.

To say I panicked when first hearing this news is an understatement.

Silas struts toward me underneath the heavy clouds that hang low like most days of the week, his judgmental eyes two things I abhor in this world. “You will heal him, and if lucky, return.”

Hesitation binds my tongue until I can’t help but ask, “I know you don’t care for me, but my hand in marriage is something you prize.

Why risk my life when you need my beating heart and womb to sell off?

” If some aspect of survival wasn’t speaking, I’d be as silent as the clouds that cast their shadows above.

But I can’t. This is just too bizarre. He even allowed me my healing pendant, which is currently tucked underneath my tunic as it hangs around my neck.

Usually, it’s locked away in his stupid room where I’m only granted access when necessary.

“You complain endlessly of your marriage proposals,” he remarks, taking a step forward, his hands clasped behind his back, the crowd of his armada giving us space to speak. “If you come back, you may come back compliant . If you do not wish to obey, then you remain.”

My eyes widen, my nostrils flaring.

I understand now.

“You’re effectively imprisoning me there,” I mutter, my mouth so dry it’s as if I chewed on cotton. “At the Carrows.”

His grin is wicked. “Poor Kane is growing unruly in there, and thought a fight might free him. He will never leave, and I need him alive to keep the Unseelie controlled. Strip away their leader, and then I have to figure out who the next one is before culling him . So, go. Heal the man you obsess over so his men can then defile you after— yes , I know you write him. I know you’re probably obsessed because of what he did to Lawrence.

It doesn’t mean anything to me. With him in the Carrows, you might as well be writing a ghost .

“I’m showing you what prison is truly like.

What a ruthless leader really is. He slaughtered thirty prisoners in there, all because a fight broke out, and he was killing all those associated, like a common beast claiming its territory.

So enjoy being near that monster of a creature.

” A revolting pleasure floods his gaze. “And if you’re idiotic enough to remain, then there is no hope for you as an ordained wife of a High Lord.

I won’t even risk it with Faust, who might just end up killing you before you’re useful.

Only you going to him compliant will help me. ”

My heart pounds so hard I can hear it in my ears, my head growing dizzy.

Glancing down, I try to examine the way Silas’s eyes glint with victory, and that he knew of me writing Kane this entire time.

“But Kane,” I question. His name on my tongue is like revealing a secret so tightly guarded I suddenly feel naked.

“You want me to heal Kane . You said you think I’m writing him letters, and now you want me to heal him? ”

Gods it’s disgusting how he looks at me, like a starving wolf that’s finally cornered its prey so perfectly, as if I’ll cut my own leg off to feed it to him.

“You believe yourself to be such a victim, Victoria. Him scarring Lawrence was not for your benefit, Kane was asserting himself to my court, and for whatever reason, he thinks being in the Carrows sends a preferable message. It keeps him out of the world, so I don’t care why he wants to be in there.

He’s never leaving. He will break you when you’re no longer a benefit to me.

And he will be healed, either by you or others.

I know he’s trying to get to me, through you.

And in the same stroke, I show myself as a caring High Lord, even to his prisoners.

Even to the Unseelie . Sending in his own adoptive daughter .

Perhaps it will quell the noise of further insurrection.

” He leans in so far his breath is on my ear, and he smells of lemons.

I nearly push him away, but the idea of him knowing he got to me is almost worse.

“You will come back broken so I can use you without listening to your groveling, and Faust will be grateful to have you so shattered you’ll be happy to see him at your marriage ceremony. I am done with this version of you.”

It took the entire ride on horseback down to the docks for me to process the conversation, even as we board the ship that will get us there, seagulls yapping in the air.

My hand never quite leaves my healing pendant.

It’s so foreign to have it as if I own it.

I do own it. It’s literally made with my blood .

What if this all works in Silas’s favor?

What if Kane has been using me, and now he gets to mold me?

Will he laugh maniacally when he sees what Silas has done?

Like I’m the small rabbit that two wolves are toying with?

Turn me into a weapon to use against Silas?

Or just kill me and get me out of the way?

While making Silas look noble for healing his enemies…

Do I still have to heal Kane? I have to, right?

Letting him die would leave me to the fate of his men.

It was entertaining interacting with him from the safety of written word on paper, but even I have heard how brutal it is to be among Kane, and I live in a tower.

Now that I see the dark, imposing walls of the Carrows on their own island in the distance, I’m struck with fear .

I sent that man letters with my scent all over them.

Despite the cold winds, my cheeks feel like they’re on fire.

The prison island is larger than I thought, looming over us like a mountain among violent tides, windows carved out of the rock as if the oceans sprouted out a prison.

The ship I sail on to reach the island pulls into a carved-out levee, the waters rising until we meet land.

It’s all entirely cold and made of the same gray stone, my nose numb in the frigid air.

I keep tucking loose strands of black hair behind my ears, although I suppose worrying about my appearance is the least appropriate thing right now.

The monotonous grey of the Carrows is loud against the vibrancy of Silas’s castle.

A true prison.

There’s an undeniable elegance in this monstrosity that all the Seelie courts send their unwanted prisoners, and yet it’s completely worn down with time and misery.

After crossing through the courtyard, the double doors open like an opening to a void.

Walking through the front entry, there’s a moisture in the air from the drizzling rain, one that makes everything about this place that much more miserable.

My eyes seem to adjust quicker than the rest, spotting a few duskborn near a corner, lingering just beyond the reach of the light.

Silent. Watchful. As we make our way through, I notice some sit like gargoyles with gleaming eyes.

Not with madness. No, that would be too typical of stories we tell children.

This is calculation. Recognition. A knowingness that makes my skin itch, like they’re aware I come from the place they serve, and loathe .

It’s hard to peel my eyes away when I hear about them all the time, the creatures bred by the Seelies to hunt down the Unseelie in their own land.

They’re so tall and thick with muscle, their silvery hair almost silken.

Their angles are sharper, and so are their fangs.

Their breed is said to be bred and born all in complete darkness within the systems of caves that require blood offerings from the Seelie.

The ones at the Carrows are bred in the very caverns of this place, taking advantage of their fiercely protective nature over their homeland.

Perfect guards that can catch any escapee.

If any part of this goes poorly, I’m truly and dearly fucked.

So why does that not terrify me?

We advance deeper into this place, guided by a Seelie guard, my wool cloak still covered in small droplets of water. Even the wax of the candles is made with a darker color. It’s so quiet that our footsteps echo throughout until I can hear the clamor of inmates.

Focus .

It’s their presence that makes me anxious. The idea that I survived Silas all these years, only to meet my death at the hands of people inside of here that spins so much bitter resentment in my stomach.

What am I to do here? Heal Kane and leave to see who my next suitor is before Faust gets hold of me?

It seems like Silas doesn’t trust me with the next suitor and is skipping right to the twisted one.

And yet, I already know my answer. Kane wants me for one reason or another, but if he can secure my freedom, I don’t care what I have to do.

Lean into that.

We may have had a momentary sense of fun, but giving him my concern seems entirely unwarranted.

It’s no longer something to get me through the days.

Interacting with him will break any illusion of safety I had, and if Silas is telling the truth, then I need to be as cunning as all these puppeteers who think I’m still affixed to strings.