Page 6

Chapter Six

A elia

Thirty-seven days of oppressive darkness, each interminable one marked by a faint nail mark on the obsidian wall. The endless black was only broken by the faint, eerie glow of blood-red runes etched into the walls, pulsating faintly, as though alive. I took a step across the uneven floor, carved from jagged black stone that seemed to drink any shred of light cast upon it, while rivulets of dark, viscous liquid trickled down the walls, their origins unknown.

I’d made the mistake of touching it once when I was first dumped into this chamber of torture. Mad with thirst, I’d nearly brought it to my lips before the noxious odor had my insides cramping. Thankfully, a day later, a pitcher of drinkable water had been shoved into my cell.

The iron-bars of my new home were twisted and asymmetrical, fashioned with grisly artistry, each bar etched with intricate infernal sigils that radiated an unsettling heat. That, coupled with the manacles around my wrists, robbed me of my ever dwindling rais . Chains hung from the ceiling, some intermittently glowing faintly with enchanted demonfire, others cold and dripping with a murky, tar-like substance. Sometimes, I was certain I’d spent nights hanging from the iron shackles, but it could have all been part of the madness setting in since I was abandoned in this hellish place. I heaved in a breath, chasing away the dark thoughts, but the acrid air, seeming to endlessly carry the metallic tang of blood and the faint, bitter scent of sulfur, did nothing to dispel the darkness.

Thirty-seven days without seeing a single soul. Only whispers echoed faintly through the corridors, voices I somehow knew did not belong to the living, carrying fragmented words in an ancient, infernal tongue.

I was certain I would lose my mind. If I hadn’t already…

Every day I awoke with my wits still intact was both a blessing and a curse. How long could I possibly withstand this eternal night?

This cell was a place of torment, designed not only to contain, but also break my will; a nightmarish realm where light dared not linger, and hope was nothing but a distant memory.

That invisible tether that had looped around my heart when Reign had explained the cuorem bond all those weeks ago, suddenly pulsed. Tightening around my failing organ, it squeezed, compelling it back to life. Reign .

It was in moments like this that I remembered there was always hope.

Aidan had taught me that long ago. My hand instinctively reached for the medallion beneath my tattered tunic. Oh gods, poor Aidan, he must have been out of his mind with worry. It was because of my adoptive father that I’d spent every day in Feywood training to master my daggers, despite knowing I would be sold off to a Fae lord at the age of twenty. This was no different.

I could not give into the desolation, into the gut-wrenching fear.

I would not.

Someone would come for me.

Reign would find me. He’d promised to raze down the entire continent to keep me safe, and I believed him.

And then there was Sol. Surely, my skyrider would never abandon me.

The fact that they hadn’t yet found me was terrifying. But I forced down the dread threatening to bubble its way up and willed my composure back to the surface.

Only thirty-seven days had passed. Not so long, considering. There was always hope, and I vowed to hold onto it until my dying breath. For Reign. For Aidan. For Sol. For Rue. For all my friends who waited for my return at Luce.

Crouching down on the jagged ground, I felt my way—wrists still bound by Helroth’s toxic blood manacles—toward the small bench that served as my chair, my bed, my everything. Besides the pot in the corner where I was forced to relieve myself, I was given no other niceties. With the exception of one cold meal a day, typically consisting of hard bread and moldy-tasting cheese, which was shoved through the door at an erratic schedule by a Demon Fae cloaked in darkness.

After the first week, I attempted to stand behind the door in a vain attempt to slip through during meal delivery. Not only had my efforts proven futile, but I’d also ended up with an egg-shaped knot on my forehead when the door slammed into my face on multiple occasions. The invasive darkness made it nearly impossible to move around the cell, let alone provide stealth for a tricky ambush, I’d learned.

After that, I gave up.

On that route of escape anyway.

Instead, I focused on finding a way out of these damnable cuffs. I often found myself thinking about Reign and the torture he’d endured all these years beneath the hold of Draven’s restrictive shackles. The irony was not lost on me.

Reign. Reign. Reign . Where are you?

The chant echoed in my mind, growing more frenzied with each iteration. I was close to madness; I was sure of it.

How much longer could I go without succumbing?

You’re not going mad, duskling . This is simply your feeble mind’s way of coping with the solitude.

“Go away, Ruhl!” I hissed, slamming my palms over my ears to silence the never ceasing whispers, some easily recognizable, others not. The sudden movement only further tore at the ruined skin on my wrists. Today it was the Shadow heir, other times my visitors were much worse. “I want Reign.”

But he’s not here, is he? I’m afraid you’re stuck with me .

“Where is he?” I shouted, my voice vibrating through the endless darkness.

I am not my brother’s keeper. He is your cuoré after all, shouldn’t you know ?

Gods, if Reign and I had only completed the bond, we would have been eternally tethered, and I never would’ve found myself in this situation—or, in one this dire, at any rate. Why had we put it off for so long? This was all my fault. If I’d only listened to him when I’d had the chance.

Don’t blame yourself, duskling. Sometimes fate steps in, and we mere mortals become only pawns in the games the gods play.

“What the realms does that mean, Ruhl?”

I don’t know, do you? I am your hallucination after all.

“You’re not even a hallucination, or I’d be able to see you.” And of all the Fae in this realm, he would typically be my last choice—but right now, even he would do. I squeezed my eyes closed—which didn’t make an ounce of difference in this interminably murky cell—and willed my mind to conjure an image.

Not of Ruhl, but of Reign.

The cuorem pulsed, pounding out an angry beat against my ribs. Reign, please, find me . Flashes of the beautiful Fae male I was gods’ bound to flickered across my mind’s eye: wild tumbles of dark hair, fallen across his strong brow, each strand exactly as I remembered it; full lips pursed, jaw clenched into a hard line as he battled an onslaught of shadows, swinging a broadsword in mighty arches; every dip and valley of his perfectly carved form glinted in the sunlight, perspiration dripping down his muscled torso.

Gods, my fingers ached to touch him.

I reached into the darkness; the vivid images my mind had conjured only inches from my grasp. “Reign,” I whispered.

Sorry, duskling, it’s still only me . Ruhl’s voice snapped my eyes open to a faint ruby glow illuminating my dank cell.

“Go away! Find me Reign!”

I wish I could, but alas, it’s your mind that has brought me here .

“No, that’s not true.” I paced across the meager length of my cage. “Reign is my cuoré; he’s the one I love. You’re simply part of this nightmare.”

Ouch, princess, you wound me so .

“Don’t call me that!” That nickname belonged to Reign, and Reign, alone.

A flicker of a memory surged to the surface at the nickname. Suffocating pain, debilitating fear, the pungent odor of sulfur, and then, an endless plummet… King Helroth.

The King of the Court of Infernal Night had also called me princess .

But why?

That is the big question, now, isn’t it ?

“Gods, Ruhl, if you must be here, can’t you at least be helpful?” I hissed, pulling at the strands of my greasy, knotted hair. How I’d wished for a basin to bathe in the first week of my arrival. Now, personal hygiene had become the least of my worries.

Further proof of my mind’s deterioration.

Think, Aelia. Why would the king call you princess ? It certainly isn’t meant in the same manner as your precious Reign .

Again, my mind soared to the past, to all those months ago when Reign had finally confessed the truth of it all.

“…I had never encountered anyone quite like you. Your radiance was undeniable, but it was the brilliance within that truly captivated me. I had never beheld a fiercer soul. While most royals are entitled and lazy, bred in a world of indulgence, you were different. A true princess must be as lethal as she is well-mannered, and I could see that in you, from the fire blazing within those mesmerizing pools of iridescent silver-blue.” He paused, his eyes finally chasing to mine. “You may have been raised a simple Kin, Aelia, but you possess the soul of a princess.”

Hot tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, my throat tightening at the vivid memory. Gods, I’d been such a fool. I never should have doubted Reign, questioned the veracity of my feelings for him…or his for me.

Clearly, not the same meaning of princess . Ruhl’s sardonic voice interrupted the downward spiral.

“Then what are you saying?” I snapped. “Are you seriously trying to convince me that I could be the Princess of the Court of Infernal Night?”

You’re the one who said it, duskling. Not me. Need I remind you—yet again—that I am only a figment of your imagination ?

“Stars, I despise you.”

If you say so, princess .

The harsh slap of footfalls yanked me from the insane conversation with pretend-Ruhl and sent my heart surging up my throat. Reaching for the wall as a guide, I followed the crimson glow of infernal runes to the twisted iron bars that hinged at a door. A creature bathed in pure night emerged from the inky black, only the sinister glow of its citrine orbs visible against the murky backdrop. Today, the monster held no tray, no food or drink. Instead, he paused at the bars and peered inside, silently assessing. Until this very moment, he had never given me a second look. In fact, I barely considered his appearances as social contact at all, seeing as most days he was nothing but a blur of darkness who deposited food and water, then dissolved into nothingness once his task was complete.

“Who are you?” I blurted. “Can you help me?”

He slowly shook his cloaked head, pure night rippling in waves around his form. “No one can help you now, Light Fae.” The hiss was guttural, more beastly than mortal. “I come with news: the king will see you. I urge you to prepare for his arrival.”