Page 7 of Fey Empire

At least, I hope it is that, and not that there is something in here with me.

I shudder and pull my knees up even closer to my chest. I’m sitting on the floor, huddled in this corner as if it is going to save me. It is silly, but I can’t force myself to stand in the middle of the dark cell. My instincts will not let me.

I peer out into the darkness again. The luminous moss has not grown any brighter. I still can’t see a thing.

I rest my head back down on my knees and concentrate on breathing instead.

It is warm in here. The rich, loamy scent of soil is filling the air. It doesn’t feel damp. So things could be a lot, lot worse.

It is just very dark. And very quiet. Nothing but the sound of my own breathing. And the faintly whispering shadows.

Another shiver dances down my spine. Hopefully, I won’t be in here for long. I’ve already lost track of time. Nobody has come with food or water, but I don’t feelhungry or thirsty. So there is only so much time that could have passed.

I really, really hope someone comes before I need to pee. Or worse. The thought of having to go in a corner is enough to bring me to tears.

Of course, when someone comes, it might not be with food and water or an opportunity to use a bathroom. It might be to torture me. Either for answers or for revenge. Possibly both.

My gulp of a swallow sounds obnoxiously loud in the near silence.

There might be a time in the future when I wish that having to piss on the floor in the corner of a cell was my greatest fear.

I hug my knees tighter and try to stop my trembling.

This could be my punishment right now. This unending dark and near perfect silence. For all I know, I could have been alone down here for centuries. It could be fey magic preventing me from feeling hungry.

I could be lost in my own mind. Endlessly twirling in my thoughts. Alone and spiralling for eternity.

Wait, was that the sound of soft footsteps, or am I truly hallucinating now?

No, that really is the sound of someone approaching. But is that a good thing or a bad thing?

Prince Selwyn’s magic tingles against my senses. His presence looms, even in the dark. I know it is him even though I cannot see him, cannot hear him. Just by his footsteps and the feel of him, I know who is approaching the door of my cell.

He reaches the wooden bars and pauses for a moment. Then the door drags over the ground. He steps inside and closes the wooden bars behind him.

The loud sound of his fingers snapping, rings out. A torch in a wall sconce that I didn’t even realise was there, bursts into life. A dazzling golden flame. I wince and scrunch my eyes up against the sudden brightness.

A new silence stretches. This one feels far more intimidating. I can feel the weight of the prince’s attention. He is standing there, staring down at me.

Oh goodness! I should be standing to greet him.

Hastily, I scramble to my feet. I fumble my way through a terrible curtsey. I really haven’t been practising them long enough to be fluid without a great deal of concentration. And right now, I can’t muster any concentration at all.

The best I can do is stand before him, eyes down, and try not to tremble too much.

The torch hisses faintly. It flickers, and shadows dance. I think I can hear the beating of my own heart.

“Meek little thing, aren’t you?” Prince Selwyn says softly.

I cannot tell if it is praise or an insult. Either way, I cannot fathom how to form a response.

He steps toward me. Every part of me wants to step back, to preserve this small distance between us. But I hold my ground.

“Your fear tastes strong, little vessel,” he rumbles.

I suck in a breath and remain silent. I really do think it is the best course of action. I am a mouse, and he is a cat, and anything, absolutely anything I do, will ignite his prey drive.

“Most people do not fear me,” he says, almost conversationally. “They believe the disguise I wear.” He pauses. “But you, little vessel, you see right through the sheep’s clothing, don’t you?. Tell me, do you like the wolf?”