Page 13 of Heart Cradle (The Melrathen Saga #1)

ChapterNine - Stone and Silence

Maeve woke with a start, for a moment, there was only darkness. Then a sharp sting of damp air in her lungs, her heartbeat thudding loud in her ears. Cold, gritty stone beneath her hands as her mind reached back, fumbling, the kiss, the pulse, the crack of something splitting open.

Then, nothing.

She sat up too fast. The world spun sickeningly as panic surged up her throat.

She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady herself, her other hand moved instinctively to her pocket, the pouch was still there.

It’s velvet was damp, but unmistakably present, nestled safely against her dress.

Maeve’s fingers closed over it in quiet relief, she didn’t dare pull it out, not here, wherever here was.

Keep the Chain a secret.

The stone cell was bare and cold, with one, iron-bound wooden door, no windows and no sound.

She gulped for air, then heard a quiet rustle. She spun, her back hitting the wall. A woman sat on the other side of the cell, watching her.

“I didn’t want to startle you,” the woman said gently, raising her hands in a non-threatening gesture, palms out.

She was thin. Bruises bloomed along her arms and collarbone. Her long dark hair was tied back in a rough plait. Beautiful, but battered, like something once radiant had been kept too long in the dark and she didn’t move closer.

“I’m Aeilanna,” she said softly. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”

Maeve’s throat was dry and her heart pounded against her ribs. “You’re not?” she rasped.

Aeilanna’s smile was faint, but real. “No. I’m a prisoner too, I have been for a long time.”

Maeve’s mind raced, grip on the pouch tightening. She didn’t know how she knew, but this woman was fae. Panic crept up her spine, her jaw clenched .

“Breathe with me,” Aeilanna murmured. She inhaled slowly, exhaled evenly. “In. Out. In. You are here. Out. In. You are alive. Out. In. out. I will keep you safe. In. Out. In. Out.”

Maeve followed, not entirely by choice. The rhythm steadied her, the panic receded slowly.

“I’m Maeve,” she said hoarsely.

Aeilanna nodded. “A strong name.”

Maeve glanced around the cell again, chains bolted to the far wall next to a bucket, a broken wooden stool in the corner and a few cracked, mismatched bits of crockery. There was nothing else. “You’ve been here... how long?” she asked quietly.

Aeilanna exhaled through her nose. “Too long. I stopped counting after the tenth winter.”

Maeve studied her, the emaciated frame, the healing cuts and the hollow cheeks. She looked like she’d been starved of everything but oxygen.

“Why are you here?” Maeve asked.

“Because I refused to help them,” Aeilanna said. “I was a Spellweaver in Melrathen.” She touched the iron bands at her wrists with a grimace. “They clamped these on to block my magic and then threw me in here.”

Maeve frowned. “Spellweaver?”

Aeilanna gave a faint, almost sad smile. “Spellweaving is a specific form of powerful magic. Any fae can use magic, spellweavers are different. We don’t just call on power, we shape it, braid it, hone it into something sharp.”

Maeve listened, something cold and heavy settling in her stomach.

“Spellweavers are the guardians of intention,” Aeilanna went on. “I strengthened the realm’s heart. When the land sickened, I healed it. When the wards faltered, I restored them. I spun magic into the bones of the world so it couldn’t break.”

Her golden eyes met Maeve’s, fierce and unwavering.

“I was trusted,” she said. “Because spellweaving demands more than strength, it demands control. If you don’t have the right soul, the magic burns you from the inside out.”

Maeve swallowed. “You were a guardian? ”

Aeilanna nodded. “Guardian, architect, defender and sometimes a soldier, when I had to be. I could shatter an army’s will with a whisper.” She touched the bands again, almost absently. “They feared what I could do, and what I could undo.”

“You must have been... important,” Maeve said, cautiously.

Aeilanna’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “To some, a long time ago.”

Maeve hesitated. “Can you help me understand?”

Aeilanna gave a small nod.

“I didn’t even know about fae until yesterday. I only know the names of the realms. Where are we?”

“We’re in Avelan.” Aeilanna exhaled through her nose.

Maeve blinked. “Avelan.”

Aeilanna nodded, her gaze darkening. “The most ruthless of the six. Built on ice and ruled through cruelty in the north. The Pale Court, commands through terror, not respect.”

She went on. “Melrathen is the heart. The strongest in power, deepest in history. Home to the old bloodlines, the royal family, the Chain, the High Temple. I was born there.”

Maeve’s fingers twitched at the mention of the Chain.

“Armathen to the east, is stone and strategy,” Aeilanna continued. “Harsh terrain. Harsher people, they speak in steel, not poetry. But they’re loyal, and invaluable in war.”

She shifted slightly, wincing. “Edhenvale hides to the east and sits behind its trees and glamours. Incredibly secretive, their magic winds like ivy, beautiful, but hard to trust.”

Her voice softened. “The Storm Coasts are south of the continent... fierce and untamed. Independent to their bones. They sail like they were born of salt and wind, I trained there after I ascended as a spellweaver.”

Maeve tilted her head, as if to ask something, but let it go.

“Finally, Eldrisil further west.” Aeilanna’s voice quieted. “Eldrisil remembers what the rest of the world forgets. They carry the old stories, they feel everything, know everything. ”

Maeve took it all in silently, pieces of a map clicking into place. “And the war?” she asked at last.

Aeilanna’s expression shuttered. “It’s never just one war. It’s centuries of grudges and power changing hands. Melrathen held the centre for too long and Avelan wanted to rip it out. The rest of us got dragged in, whether we bleed for the cause or not.”

A breath passed between them.

“You’ll learn more, I’ll teach you.” Aeilanna said, leaning back against the stone. “But we’ll need to survive first.”

She said nothing else. Offered no history, no details that tied her too closely to the realm she came from.

His realm.

Maeve didn’t pester her, she saw the exhaustion in Aeilanna’s bones.

The way she spoke of power like it belonged to someone she used to be.

She wasn’t just locked in a cell, she was surviving through it.

But Maeve wasn’t sure she was trapped with a broken woman, she had the feeling she was trapped inside a vacuum.

“And they’ve kept you here?” she asked.

Aeilanna nodded, face tight. “When they want something, information, spells, they drag me out. When they don’t... I rot.”

Maeve’s stomach turned.

Aeilanna shifted again, her voice dropping. “You need to listen carefully. If the male guards come in, don’t make eye contact. Don’t speak, don’t move unless they order you. Be invisible if you can.”

Maeve swallowed. “And if they take you?”

“Stay silent, stay small and protect yourself,” Aeilanna whispered. “There is nothing you can do to help me when they come for me.”

Maeve stiffened. “That’s…” she began, then stopped. “That’s fucked.”

“It’s survival,” Aeilanna said. “You can’t fight them, you’re human.”

Maeve’s hands curled into fists. “So I’m just meant to fucking watch? ”

Aeilanna met her eyes steadily. “You survive. Look after yourself and when they throw me back through that door, you help me. That’s the only way we both make it.”

Maeve ground her teeth. She hated it, but she understood. “Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll stay invisible. But I’m not promising I won’t break someone’s fucking jaw if they get too close.”

A flicker of something passed across Aeilanna’s face, not quite a smile, but close.

“That spirit is good,” Aeilanna said. “You’ll need it.”

Maeve drew her knees to her chest, fingers still gripping the pouch inside her pocket. The Chain pulsed faintly against the fabric. Somewhere beyond the stone walls, she could feel him, an ache, a pull. She wouldn’t, couldn’t say his name aloud, but she felt as if she needed him.

?????

The days that followed blurred into one continuous torment.

At first, there was only silence. Long, oppressive hours stitched together by hunger, cold, and the slow drip of dread.

Maeve barely spoke, realisation of her current predicament hitting her.

She kept the pouch hidden deep in her pocket, slept with her hand curled protectively over it, her body coiled tight even in restless sleep.

Every time footsteps echoed down the corridor, every time the door rattled on its hinges, her whole frame tensed, ready to run, ready to fight, but in reality neither of which were options.

Aeilanna never compelled conversation, she simply existed beside her, quietly.

A folded cloth beneath Maeve’s head, a torn scrap of hard bread passed to her hand.

A soft word, when the hours dragged heavy and grey.

Despite the filth and neglect, Aeilanna carried herself with an unsettling calm.

In passing, she told Maeve that she had once carried magic in her blood so potent she could bend the threads of the world into shields and songs and binding walls.

Now, it was gone, crushed and she hadn’t touched her magic in years.

Maeve told her very little in return. Just that she was from Earth, that she didn’t know what they wanted.

She tried to make herself small, ordinary and forgettable.

She kept the truth locked tight inside her chest, deep and close to the Chain.

But on the fourth day, everything changed. Maeve woke to the heavy door being thrown open. Two male guards, towering, thick-shouldered and their faces hidden behind iron helms entered. They moved with brutal purpose. Aeilanna stiffened and Maeve instinctively rose to her knees, every nerve flaring.

“Don’t look at them,” Aeilanna hissed. “Stay silent. ”