Page 15

A urora sat in the atrium of the guest palace, her face turned up towards the sun, eyes closed against the brilliant light…and the unpleasant reality that had become her life. Her ears twitched as distant giggles echoed behind her. She gripped the artefact in her hands and froze, waiting to find out if she would go unmolested. The next laugh came from further away. Aurora released a pent-up breath, her head leaning against the marble column at her back. The last few weeks had been their own kind of torture.

The guest palace was a prison and she was its newest curiosity.

The doors remained unlocked, the windows open and airy, but no one who entered this place of beautiful marble columns, mosaic floors, sumptuous décor, sparkling fish ponds and lush gardens ever left. This was where Queen Flora housed the sons and daughters of vassals whose loyalty was in question. It was where the last heirs of fallen territories mouldered away, forgotten. It was where, she knew, the kings and queens who fought against the future Viridian empire would spend their final days. In the future, it would become Phaedra’s palace. It was now Aurora’s cage.

She felt like nothing so much as an exotic animal on display for her fellow prisoners and the curious nobles of the Viridian court. The vivarium, the people here called it. It was not far off the mark. Here was where Flora displayed her trophies of flesh and blood. That the people here lived at all was a testament to their monarch’s supposed magnanimity.

Most had thought her a damaged child when she’d arrived, covered in bandages and splints, and so had left her alone with her pain. But as the swelling went down and some of the bandages came off, they’d realised she was a woman grown, despite her short stature. They heaped their humiliations on her day and night, from forcing her into children’s clothes to tossing her about despite her injuries, to making it nearly impossible to bathe in the shared baths without constant, unrelenting scrutiny. It could have been worse. The guards and attendants regularly withheld necessities unless sexually gratified—a fate she’d managed to avoid thus far.

She’d foolishly hoped that her stay would be a temporary one, until she’d been woken on her second night in this prison by a priestess of Knowledge. Robed in deep black, the woman had tossed the artefact at Aurora and told her that it was but an ancient calendar, not a magical device for time travel.

After that, the medic stopped coming to tend to her wounds. A letter arrived a few days later informing her that if her information proved to be false, she would suffer appropriate punishment for lying twice to the high priestess.

Aurora had lived in a constant state of fear since.

Initially, she’d been elated to find herself somewhere familiar even if it made her heart ache with memories of her friend. She’d thought she’d understood what this place was in the ancient past and had been enchanted by the sumptuous décor, excited to think she would be the first of her age to glimpse it.

But that feeling of coming home and the thrill of discovery soon soured when the true nature of this wretched place became clear. Terrified that the history books had been wrong, she’d walked every inch of the guest palace, looking for a way out. Knowing it was Phaedra’s palace had given her the clues she needed to plan an escape. Even though much had changed over the millennia, just as it was at the temple of Knowledge, some hidden paths had survived unchanged.

But she couldn’t leave until she was fully healed. And so she endured as best she could.

Aurora turned the artefact—calendar—over in her hands. The rings no longer moved around it, having been too badly damaged, and were quite immune to her attempts to fix them. But as she’d had nothing else to distract her, she’d begun deciphering the symbols along the rings.

Now that she knew what it was, she could see the numbers for hours, days, months, and years. On the outermost rings, she was certain the symbols represented constellations. They’d called it naught but a calendar, but her magic had drawn her to it. It no longer held whatever internal force had compelled her, but it couldn’t just be a simple calendar. If she could fix it, maybe she could travel in time again.

Where would she even go?

A stampede of footsteps jolted her out of her thoughts. She stuffed the artefact into her small shoulder satchel and ducked between the column and greenery, manoeuvring her splinted leg with some difficulty. She curled up as best she could, making herself as small as possible under the foliage. Her hiding place had proved itself many times now. She got as comfortable as she could and listened.

“There’s a new arrival!”

“The guards said it was a king. And that he’d been cursed by monstrosities.”

Monstrosities? Then the first had appeared! Aurora’s heart sank. Orithyia would have known, and if so, then she’d allowed Aurora to rot in this prison in spite of the information she’d provided.

“Would Flora actually keep him alive?”

“She’d better, unless she wants a war.”

“Move over, I can’t see him!”

“Shove off, I got here first!”

“Oh! Look! He’s quite tall.”

“Do you think he’d make good bed sport?”

“A king? Darling, kings don’t have to be good bed sport with all the people throwing themselves at their feet. You’d be lucky if he even knew where your clit was.”

Aurora blushed as the nobles burst into laughter.

“We’ll have plenty of time to find out either way. If he’s here, Flora is going to take her sweet time playing with him.”

“Unless Orithyia wants him dead.”

“Now that would be a perfectly good waste of all those muscles. Trust if he hasn’t learned to suck cock and tease clit before now, he’ll be learning to do so quickly.”

Their vicious laughter burned Aurora’s ears. A king was reduced to future whore here in this prison. Though at least there would be a new target for their curiosity. Unless the king proved to be the worst of the lot. Given her luck, it was almost a certainty. She shivered.

“Great Goddess, he’s filthy. I can smell him from here.”

“What in the Loom has he been rolling in? Monstrosity-cursed indeed! My eyes are watering.”

“No, I don’t think I’m going to greet this one. Not until after he’s been bathed.”

“Agreed. Oh, that stench is turning my stomach.”

“I think I might faint.”

“Disgusting.”

“I heard there are cakes being served on the terrace. Shall we?”

“As long as it’s on the terrace on the opposite side of the palace.”

Another chorus of laughter, the stampede of footsteps following. Aurora waited until she was certain they were gone before she tried to exit her hiding place. She was lucky no one could see her grunting and sweating as she struggled to get to her feet, covered in soil. She was making adequate progress when the stench of animal dung hit her full-on.

In an instant, she dropped back into her hiding spot, freezing.

The doors to the palace opened, creaking slowly. The metal click of soldier’s boots echoed on the mosaic floors.

“Welcome to your new home.”

“If you want to keep your tongue, you had best unlock my shackles and quickly,” the king snarled.

The guard snorted. The delicate clinking of metal on metal signalled the keys. Aurora jumped when those same keys hit the ground just by her hiding place, sliding to a halt a mere two paces from her leg, hidden beneath foliage.

Merciful Triad, no .

“Fetch.”

“You’re a man without honour,” the king said.

The soldier’s laugh was uglier than even the prisoners of the guest palace.

“You’re the newest addition to the vivarium, Your Majesty. You’ll be sucking my cock for gossip within the year, if you live that long.”

Now the king laughed, a sound so full of malice it sent a shiver down Aurora’s spine.

“Do you know what I do to men without honour?”

“Get inside!”

A scuffle ensued. Metal smashed into metal. Then metal into stone. Swearing ensued as the soldier called for help. Grunts and groans of pain ended with a shrill scream. As other soldiers arrived, the king laughed through the beating they delivered.

“He bit off my ear!” the guard shrieked in the distance.

“Be glad I only took your ear!” the king called out as the door to the palace was closed.

The lock of the outer door clicked into place with finality.

“Viridian scum,” the king swore as he groaned, struggling to his feet.

Aurora prayed he wouldn’t find her in her hiding place. A man who so quickly turned to gory violence would no doubt delight in the screams of a small woman.

As the king shuffled close, sweat rolled down her back. Gripping her skirt with clammy hands, she held her breath as he stood before her. Only his feet were visible from her position but they were filthy, caked in mud and other unmentionable substances, and only one had a soldier’s sandal on it. He leaned down to grab the keys and sat himself on her bench, unlocking the shackles that had circled his ankles. But she knew from experience that the shackles on his wrists wouldn’t be so easy.

He muttered curses under his breath as he fumbled. When the keys dropped from his hands and hit the floor, Aurora jumped.

The king parted the foliage in an instant and grabbed her dress, hauling her up from her hiding spot with a snarl.

He was going to kill her, smash her head to pieces against the floor, tear her limb from bleeding limb. She’d been hauled around like a ragdoll by the others here, treated like an object instead of a person for weeks now. It was too much. She’d not done anything to deserve this. Aurora was sick to death of people manhandling her just because they were bigger. As if moving of its own accord, her fist rammed into his nose. Her magic surged in tandem as she screamed.

“Stop!” she cried.

And he did. When she dared open her eyes, he was frozen. He wasn’t even breathing, as if trapped in amber. The creature inside her chest had its jaws locked around him, holding him in place, the effort straining muscles she’d never known existed.

Move. Move. Move!

It wouldn’t last forever. She had to get out of his grasp before then. But his hands were fisted in the material of her dress. Aurora writhed until her gown tore. She fell to the floor, the bodice of her gown still clutched between that monster’s paws. Aurora struggled to her feet, clutching the tattered remains of her gown to her chest and limped away as far as she could. But the further she got, the more difficult holding him with her magic became, as if it were a leather strap pulled too tight. With a force that nearly sent her to her knees, her magic snapped back.

The king was moving again.

And she was but a few paces away from his wrath.

He reeled, clutching his nose and swearing, torn fabric falling from his fists. He spotted her immediately, took half a step toward her and stopped, eyes wide. He held up his hands and knelt.

“My apologies, little one. I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said, his rich, deep voice unexpectedly gentling along with his expression. Then he caught sight of her figure, the breasts she could barely conceal, and that gentle expression turned to confusion.

Aurora swallowed, eyes watering from his stench the longer she stared at his dishevelled face. His beard was a mess, full of blood both old and new, and his long hair was a matted nest. She couldn’t even tell exactly what colour it was, only that it was dark. His clothes had fared about as well as his sandals, torn, stained, and filthy. Her insides crawled just looking at it.

Had the guard at the door not called him ‘Your Majesty,’ Aurora would not have believed him to be more than an unlucky beggar. An especially tall, broad-shouldered beggar with more muscles than any man ought to have. Goddess, he must be a true giant. Everyone here was enormous, but he would easily tower over everyone she’d seen thus far. The top of her head probably only met his elbows. And now he was staring at her with a piercing golden gaze that turned her insides to jelly.

She raised her chin, willing her hands to still, her back to straighten.

“I mean you no harm, madam fairy. I deserved that right hook for manhandling you in that way.” He picked up the fallen keys and held them out to her, careful not to move any closer to her. “But if you would be so kind as to free me, I will repay that kindness.”

Aurora waited, considering her options. She could use an ally here, and he was as big and scary as they came. But what she needed from him was a vow. One upon his honour. For the histories made mention that even the most terrifying of monarchs were bound by their honour.

“Are you truly a king?”

“I am.”

“Then vow upon your honour that you will not harm me.”

He smiled gently.

“I vow upon my honour as king that I will not harm you.”

Aurora tentatively took the keys from his hands and shuffled forward to unlock the shackles that bound his wrists.

“Thank you. If you’ll allow it, I will heal your wounds to repay you.”

This filthy mountain of a man could heal? She must have looked incredulous because he frowned.

“Do your injuries trouble you so little?”

No, they troubled her a great deal, in fact. They were the only thing holding her back from escaping this prison. Though whether she could evade the high priestess’ reach was another thing altogether.

Aurora chewed her lip. She supposed he’d been good enough not to attack her the moment he’d been freed. And he’d mistaken her for a full-blooded fairy, one of the founding races of Trisia, as cruel as they were whimsical and not to be taken lightly. An error she did not plan on rectifying. Whatever stayed his hand, whether fear or honour, she should not let this chance go by, even if it meant tolerating his prodigious odour.

“You may heal me, Your Majesty.”

His wild magic crashed over her like a wave. Every hurt was magnified. Searing heat replaced every dull ache in her body. She gasped, biting her lip as she tensed against the next wave of his magic. By the time he was through with her, she stumbled back, leaning heavily on the nearest column for support, her breath sawing in and out. Goddess, that was unpleasant. But as the last of his magic faded, so too did the pain. She gingerly slid her arm out of its sling, tested her weight on her splinted leg, and took a deep, full breath for the first time in weeks.

“Thank you,” she said. “And I’m sorry for hitting you.”

“Think nothing of it.”

“If you…if you wish to bathe, the baths here are extensive and they’re down that hallway.” She pointed to them.

“If you’ll excuse me, then.”

Aurora nodded, watching him slowly get to his feet and give her a wide, respectful berth. She wondered how he would fare with the others here. They were a miserable lot—bored, purposeless and angry. It made them unspeakably cruel at times, hungry for new entertainments and escapes from their lives.

“Be wary of the others here. They play cruel tricks, and already see you as their newest toy.”

“Thank you for the warning, madam fairy.”

“Good luck, Your Majesty.”

Aurora raced off after that, eager to get to her room and remove all the bandages and splints that hindered her. If she were lucky, she could be quit of this place in a few days, on her way to Gilvus or Niveum. If Orithyia had no use for her warnings, perhaps Nerio, the high priestess of Justice, or Myrina, the high priestess of Passion, would.

Once inside her small, spare room, Aurora changed out of her ruined gown and eagerly tore off her splints and bandages. She slipped on another gown and went through her mental list. She grabbed the large travel bag she’d put together with sections of her bed linens cut using pilfered silverware and sewn using a stolen needle. Inside, she’d tucked a few of the jewels the other prisoners had left lying on their vanities, as well as the silverware, a few half-eaten loaves of stale bread, and a container she hoped would hold water. Aurora stuffed her trousers, tunic and cloak, as well as another gown and a few unmentionables inside for good measure.

On her vanity, a precious scroll with her drawings—of Phaedra, Silvanus, the holy sword…and Drakon. She’d hoped to show these to Orithyia, but Aurora had no stomach to potentially face off with the woman again. She’d tried asking the other captives here if they recognised the Beast of Old, but none had, and in doing so, she’d only given away that she was not, in fact, a child to be left alone. Placing it inside her satchel, Aurora paused.

Would the king know anything helpful? He was the most recent prisoner here, and he’d been a free man his whole life. If nothing else, he could tell her where the high priestesses of Justice and Passion currently resided. Knowing that would help her set her course once she escaped. Mind made up, she snuck out of her room and made her way to the baths.

A bath attendant was leaving in a huff, a furious scowl on her face.

That boded ill.

Aurora peeked inside, only to be greeted by fragrant steam.

“Your Majesty?” she called.

“Madam fairy?” he asked back, more amused than angry.

“May I come in?”

“As long as you don’t intend to extort sexual services from me in exchange for soap.”

Yes, that had been a lesson Aurora had learned on her first night. She’d opted for being a bit smelly and stolen the first bar she’d found unattended, guarding it jealously. It seemed the king had managed to fight the attendant for his.

“I see you’ve met another of our jailors,” Aurora said, slipping inside.

“Will I be dancing naked for dinner?”

“No, naked dancing is reserved for when you want new bed linens,” Aurora quipped, following the sound of his voice to the far corner.

“Ah, of course, how foolish of me.”