Page 108 of The Queen’s Shadow

“It’s about time he puts his dick into something. You’ve been getting in his way since we were children. Frankly, it disgusts me.” She turned to Zayne, gesturing to me. “She is your responsibility. I want her broken but not damaged. I don’t want her to lose her value.”

Zayne nodded, waving a hand in my direction. He didn’t even need the bond to force my actions. My bones hummed beneath my skin and my body stood on its own accord.

“Consider it done, my Queen. I thank you for the opportunity.” He said, bowing. She nodded.

“Do not disappoint me, Prince Zayne.”

“I won’t.” He said with confidence, before turning to me. “Let’s go.” He snapped, shoving me roughly toward the door. “We have a great deal of work to do.”

Numb with shock and terror, I made my way to the entrance of the great hall, Zayne close on my heels.

“Prince Titus, Princess Vespara. You each will also receive a reward for your loyalty and devotion to the crown. Tell me, what is your heart’s desire?”

Ash Nevra offering a reward to my new masters was the last thing I heard before the doors to the great hall closed behind us.

Cerenah

Ishook off the memory, finding myself standing alone in the suite. I needed to go after them. If something happened to Jeremy, would Raven blame me? Would she send me back to Ash Nevra as punishment?

I wrung my hands together nervously. Every fiber of my being told me to stay here, in this room and not to wander the halls alone, but I couldn’t risk anything happening to Raven’s entourage. I couldn’t risk losing her favor. Now that I had tasted freedom after nearly three hundred years of slavery, I didn’t think I could go back. I would rather be dead.

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to walk to the door. I tried to summon my powers for what felt like the thousandth time, since I had been freed. As usual, there was nothing. Something inside of me was damaged. The slavery bond had broken me, in ways that I worried I would never come back from.

The panther shifter seemed to be able to smell the electricity within me, which gave me hope. I assumed that was why he had taken to calling me Sparks. It was also why Zayne called me Lightning Bug, though his nickname was not as welcome.

‘Stop fighting it, Cerenah.’ He had always warned me. ‘It will only make it hurt more, little Lightning Bug.’

There had been a time when I wasn’t helpless. A time when my power had frightened both Ash Nevra and Vespara in classes. Even Zayne’s eternally unimpressed expression had stiffened in shock the first time I had called a bolt of lightning down from the sky in one of our lessons. The air had filled with the stench of burning wood from the tree I split in two, and mixed with the hot sizzle of ozone. I had been flooded with the unfamiliar feeling of power. For the first time, I had the means to fight back. It had been glorious, though short lived.

That was all gone now. The thing about the slavery bond was, it didn’t hurt you unless you tried to resist it. I had not been able to keep myself from fighting. For years, I had tried to call my power, believing that if I just tried hard enough, I could break free and incinerate my abusers. Each time I had failed, and each time, a little more of me had been chipped away.

Now, it seemed there was nothing left for me to call upon. Nearly three hundred years of fighting a fruitless battle had left me maimed and sterile. I couldn’t even live up to the name ‘Sparks’, let alone call down lighting.

Still, I had value. I knew these halls and this palace better than Vespara herself. Centuries of looking for hiding places and ways to escape meant I knew every nook, every cranny, and every danger.

I would just make sure Jeremy and Rycon were safe and bring them back to the suite. I would only be vulnerable for a few moments. Vespara and Zayne would be busy at dinner anyway.

Taking another deep breath, I opened the door and stepped out into the hall. I decided I would start with The Courtyards and see if they had wandered into one of the many gardens.

My skin prickled, as I passed the familiar columns. The beauty of this palace was lost on me. It had been my prison, and the setting for so many of my living nightmares for so long. As I entered the inner keep and passed the hallway that I knew led to Zayne’s chambers, I shuddered. Wrapping my arms around myself, I stood frozen, unable to stop myself from staring down the echoing hallways. I fought off the flashbacks that threatened to overtake my mind.

I had stood right here; the day Zayne had brought me back from The Origin’s Palace. I had trembled before him, waiting for him to order me to his bed, or to beat me until I fell unconscious.

“What are you staring at?” He had snapped at me. I quickly averted my gaze. Looking at him is what had gotten me into this situation in the first place. “It would be in your best interest to stay away from my sister and I, while you are here. Go to the kitchens and see if you can actually be of some use.” He had snarled at me, dismissing me with a wave of his hand. “If I see you out here again, you will regret it.”

Confused, but shaking with relief, I nodded and turned to see if I could find my way, only to hear him let out an annoyed puff of air.

“Not that way. I will take you.” He grabbed my arm roughly and guided me toward a staircase that led to the lower levels of the palace. I did my best to keep my face hidden behind a sheet of hair, but he grabbed me by my neck and yanked my head back. I cried out in fear, worried that he might hit me again. “Don’t look so relieved, Cerenah. I will make sure you are worked so fucking hard, you will beg for the days you sat at our Queen’s feet like a spoiled pet.”

Zayne had not been exaggerating. The head chef had taken one look at me and made it his personal mission to make my fingers bleed. I worked twelve-to-fifteen-hour days. I was not given a room, or any kind of sleeping accommodations. I often curled up on the floor of the pantry, in discarded produce bags. I was expected to shower in a communal space that other kitchen slaves frequented, in the interest of ensuring that the food we prepared was not contaminated.

That first month had been grueling, and I had cried myself to sleep most nights. However, looking back now, it had been one of the easiest periods of my enslavement. Perhaps I wouldn’t have cried so much, if I had known just how much worse it would get.

Shaking off the painful memories, I carried on heading in the direction of the northern gardens. My skin prickled again, and I frowned. At first, I thought the sensation had been in response to my discomfort at simply being here. However, the deeper I wandered, the stranger I began to feel.

What was that? I focused on the strange humming sensation, and realized with a start, that it was coming from the megaron. I turned away from the gardens and drifted toward the staircase that led up to the open-air throne room. The odd feeling increased in intensity. It was as if the air were filled with an electric current. The hairs on my arms were standing on end, but I couldn’t resist the pull. The long dead wires that ran electricity through my veins groaned with the need to be filled again, as I made my way up the steps.

I stepped out into the empty megaron, just as a crash of thunder rolled through the night sky overhead. Black clouds billowed through the air, churning so violently, I worried for a moment they might funnel. There was a flash, and a fork of lightning cracked through the angry clouds above me. The wind picked up, and ripped through my hair, wrapping me in the stinging scent of ozone and fresh air. Static shock cracked between my fingers as I approached the large carving in the center of the megaron. The carving seemed to have come alive beneath the electrical storm that was raging above me. The clouds depicted in the carving of the storm mirrored the agitated roiling of the sky overhead. The tiny, black forms of daemons ran from the whips of lightning both before my feet and over my head.