Page 63 of Thorn Season (Thorn Season #1)

A s a Daradonian Wielder, a part of me must have always anticipated imprisonment, because I took to it with grim resignation. I bore the hard floors, the cramping muscles, the heavy-lidded chamber pot. I didn’t even grumble when the tulle grew scratchy around my legs.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t grow accustomed to the dark.

Relief only came when Erik brought me trays of hot venison stew with hard cheeses and fruits and bread rolls, served in metal crockery and illuminated by a single candle.

The first time I woke to the salty-rich scent, I upturned the tray in a fit of rage.

The flame went out, and I immediately regretted it.

The candle at my next meal was half the size.

I savored the light, not daring to breathe too hard for fear of extinguishing it.

For every untouched meal, Erik granted me a shorter candle.

On his eighth visit, when my stomach was panging, I succumbed to the entire tray.

The next candle was twice the height. I blew out the flame and stewed in shameful darkness.

The way my meals were staggered, I could only track time by his appearance. When he was coiffed and smelling rose-sweet from bathing, it was morning. When his cape was wrinkled or his hair roguishly tousled, it was evening. But no matter the time of day, the dullroot never wore off.

When I noticed the growing soreness at the back of my neck, I realized why.

Erik was administering the dullroot while I slept.

At first, I tried to stay awake; once the poison left my system, I could run .

Deep down, I knew Erik wouldn’t let it get that far.

He’d possessed those canisters all along and could easily infuse the dungeon air with dullroot.

Still, the idea gave me purpose, and for five meal trays, I didn’t even doze.

Then the stones became bitingly cold from what I suspected was the seep-through of an early-summer rain. The chill drenched the fires of my resolve, and I awoke shivering, with my head in Erik’s lap and his cape around my shoulders and his hand stroking my hair.

I lurched away so violently that I thwacked my head against the wall. He frowned, reproachful, but didn’t try to comfort me again.

After that, the water took on a faintly saccharine aftertaste. Nightmilk—a few drops per jug to ensure regular sleep. I wasn’t yet petty enough to die of thirst, so I drank deep from every cup, hating myself with each swallow.

Oftentimes, Erik would serve me and leave. “I have business,” he would say apologetically and add something encouraging about how the rolls were still warm.

But sometimes, he lounged against the wall beside me, like we were fugitives made allies by shared captivity.

Once, he took the purple grapes himself, nudging one against my fingers every other bite.

Trying to trick me into eating absentmindedly, like he had during our first dinner together, when I’d been preoccupied with upholding the conversation.

He ended up finishing the grapes alone, looking vaguely irritated, because the trick didn’t work now that he carried the conversations single-handedly.

It wasn’t for lack of effort; he asked my opinions on various topics, hoping to engage my interest, while I remained mutinously silent.

Surely there would come a point at which the thrill of the hunt gave way to boredom, and I would be no more satisfying to conquer than an injured deer on open grass.

But after twenty meal trays—most left cold and unfinished—that point still hadn’t come.

During my most restless hours, I dreamed of passageways and trip wires and Briar’s tar-treads when she’d caught Garret and me at Capewell Manor as children.

My unconscious mind sent me across booby traps again—avoiding tar, leaping over obstacles—until I felt my dry lips moving in slumber, anxiously counting steps I would no longer need to remember.

Then I would jolt awake to darkness, wishing I’d wrung Garret’s neck more swiftly.

I replayed the scene of his betrayal over and over, my specter pulling against the dullroot until I wanted to tear myself to pieces just to get the power out.

There was something perverse in its confinement, like the specter itself became a poison I wasn’t allowed to bleed from my system.

Soon, it felt exactly as Erik had surmised: like I was suffocating.

This must’ve been what the Hunted Wielders had experienced before he’d killed them. With the compass still in his hands, many more would experience the same. I’d been their only hope, and I’d failed them—just as I’d failed my father.

Father.

The word formed with a knifepoint, twisting through my naval. I couldn’t dissolve the image of Father’s face as it surfaced in my mind.

Then, like darkness blotting out the sun during an eclipse, the yearning for my father overrode every other feeling.

I became bleary and vacant and agitated. I stopped eating more than the crusts off the bread rolls and began sleeping more frequently, exhausted to the bone. At one point, I woke atop a pillow and thought I was in Vereen until the rattling chains plunged me back to reality.

Judging from its citrus-and-lavender fragrance, Erik had plucked the pillow off my bed. Not to keep my head off the stones but to fill my lungs with my own scent. To remind me of who I’d been before becoming his prisoner. A girl set to become the queen of Daradon.

If I wasn’t chained to a wall, I might’ve found it funny.

Only Erik could weaponize a feather pillow.

But that had always been his way: adding kindness into every cruelty and cruelty into every kindness.

A voice in my head—a sage, rational voice that sounded like my father—told me to feed gratefully from that kindness.

I’d already seen how gentle the king could be with me.

And in a strange way, wasn’t he still protecting me from the Hunters?

Would it be so terrible to yield to him?

It would have to be a real surrender, of course. I couldn’t manipulate or bargain or blackmail my way to freedom. Erik would see through me, as he had from the start. Now he would only settle for the truth.

So stop resisting , that wise voice said. Nothing can be worse than this.

And I almost believed it. But then I would see the xerylite ring, and I wondered if that voice actually belonged to Erik, burrowing through my defenses like a worm through soil.

Keil once told me that everyone held some kind of power. Now defiance was my only power.

I couldn’t relinquish it.

I was awake when Erik delivered meal number thirty-something. At the sound of his approach, I pulled the pillow from behind my back and wearily pushed it aside. If he realized how much I valued the wretched thing, he would probably take it away.

My stomach whined upon the tray’s arrival, so loud that Erik scowled as he joined me on the floor.

So, this was a talking day. Excellent.

I looked at the food without meaning to. The rolls were golden, the stew thick and steaming, its aroma coating my tongue. To my dismay, he’d even included a slice of lemon cake today.

A stub of a candle sat beside it.

He poured a tinkling stream of water into the metal cup with the same air of serving me wine.

I drained it hatefully, returning the cup with a clang to the tray.

Then I nestled back into the corner where the two solid walls met and turned my face.

Hopefully his voice would act as white noise and lull me to sleep.

“You’re not eating.” Fabric rustled as he shifted closer—a tactic designed to draw me toward his body heat. “If the meals displease you, I could always execute the cooks.”

The words worked as he’d intended; I couldn’t help but react, my breath hitching as I looked toward him.

He wore a victorious little half-smile, humor playing around the edges. A joke.

“If I’d known how easily I could capture your attention, I’d have threatened to slaughter the entire court by now.” Still smiling, he scooted the tray toward me. “Eat. You must remain strong.”

I angled away, my crystal-embedded tulle grating against the floor.

For several minutes, I felt his eyes on me and I tried not to touch my wrists. The skin constantly aggravated me now, chafed raw by the manacles. But I wouldn’t give Erik the satisfaction of nursing the injuries.

Finally, he sighed. “This is futile. Who are you trying to hurt by starving yourself?”

I dragged my gaze to his and said dully, “Isn’t it obvious? You. ”

I hadn’t spoken in so long that the words rasped up my throat. But it was worth it for the slow sinking of Erik’s face, the jaw-flicker of irritation. I turned away once more, content.

He didn’t speak again until half the candle had melted into its holder.

“I looked into Lady Fiona’s medical history.”

My body twitched—another foolish reaction. But he’d never mentioned my alleged mother before.

He continued, “She was a frail, sickly woman, already in her final months at the time of your birth. She couldn’t have carried a child to term.”

He paused, awaiting confirmation. I kept my face blank.

“So, your father bedded another, then—a Wielder, out of wedlock. According to Daradon’s laws, you never should’ve inherited his seat of power.

You certainly never should have been considered for queen.

” His voice became a low caress. “Look at the opportunity I’m offering.

In Daradon’s history, how many bastard Wielders have worn the crown? Who wouldn’t love to be the first?”

The candlelight flittered, stretching the shadows on the walls. I could hear my pulse-thrum in the silence.

“I’m not your enemy, Alissa. I never have been. Briar did this to you. Briar killed your father.” His fingers slowly reached for mine, then brushed across my white-clenched knuckles. “What if I let you have her?”

Heat flared up my neck far too quickly. My specter screwed against the dullroot and I gritted my teeth, fighting the sensation.

“I could have her delivered to you in chains,” Erik continued. “You could do to her what she did to your father. More, if you’d like.” His hand worked steadily over mine, unclenching my fist and cradling my palm. “I could help you. I could make her suffer in ways you couldn’t imagine.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, and Briar was there—writhing, screaming, begging for forgiveness until her agony filled my head and I realized I liked the sound.

My specter would rip her apart like the books I’d destroyed in Father’s study.

I imagined his claw-foot desk cracked down the middle and wondered how her body would look split in half like that.

Would she bleed as much as Father had, or could I make her bleed more?

My skin felt tight, my breathing shallow. I opened my eyes to find Erik smiling at me like he’d already tasted such fantasies and could recognize the desire in my face.

Then I noticed what he held in his other hand. The xerylite ring—the ring I hadn’t touched the entire time I’d been here.

I trembled as Erik brought it to the tip of my engagement finger.

“You hold all the power here, my love,” he whispered. “Let me take you from this place.” He slid the cool silver to my first knuckle. “Let me give you your revenge.”

My head rang, and I felt myself bending far enough to snap. Because I wanted what Erik offered. I wanted Briar’s neck.

No—I wanted her heart .

I swayed forward, and the ring glided to my middle knuckle. Erik held his breath, his hand roaming eagerly toward my wrist—

He grazed the raw skin around my manacle, and pain spiked through my reverie.

I gasped, flinging out my hand. The ring clattered somewhere in the shadows.

I slammed back into my corner with what sounded like a sob. “What do you want from me?”

Erik was flushed from his near-win, breathing almost as heavily as I was. “You know what I want,” he said hoarsely.

“A Wielder pet as your bride?”

He had the gall to look offended. How dare I accuse him of such intentions? He’d only chained me like a dog in a cage.

I opened my mouth to say as much. To run him through with my sharp tongue—the one weapon I’d always possessed.

But as I’d recently learned, silence could be just as powerful a weapon.

So, I huffed a bitter laugh and let my shoulders slump.

“Alissa...” The candlelight outlined the hard contours of his face. Was that a flicker of true apology—true sympathy for the girl he’d imprisoned?

It didn’t matter. In a flash, the look was gone and Erik stood with all the coldness of a huntsman who’d lost his grip on the prey.

“I can abide this delay,” he said, locking the cell behind him. “But I won’t abide a hunger strike.” He nodded toward the tray. “Finish it. Or there’ll be no candle next time.”

I wrapped my hand around the empty water cup and hurled it at the king. But it didn’t ricochet off the bars as I’d expected.

It flew between a pair of them and struck him squarely on the jaw.

I flinched, but Erik didn’t. He stood unmoving as the cup rang against the floor and rolled out of sight.

Then he smirked, satisfied, and ambled away.

By the time I stopped shaking, the stew had gone cold. What had I been thinking? It was only a matter of time before Erik raised a hand to me, and I didn’t want to provoke the first strike. But my nerves had been frayed. Did he know how close he’d been to breaking me today?

Of course he did. And now that he knew where to aim, he would redouble his efforts.

I curled over my knees, bundling my hands in my pockets. I’d have to be stronger next time. But I felt foggy with exhaustion, and all I wanted now was that lemon cake, fluffy and glistening in the candlelight—

I reached the bottom of my pocket and froze. Then I drew out my mother’s coin. My specter rushed up, tingling to spin the coin as it always did.

But the coin remained flat in my palm.

Tears blurred my vision, streaking the candlelight. For the first time, I realized my greatest asset had been handed to me at birth, no more extraordinary than the color of my hair or the shape of my mouth.

And it could be snipped with a single dose of poison.

It was the truest weakness that existed.

So far, this cell had seemed like a limbo. But now the truth smacked me like a physical blow—that this was it. Just these three walls, the iron bars, and the manacles. Maybe a Wholeborn could’ve found a way out. But without my specter, I knew I couldn’t.

My parents had died for my safety. And this was where I’d ended up.

A bottomless shame settled inside me as the first tear fell. I had barely enough time to cry for my parents, for the burden of their deaths, before the flame sputtered out and I plummeted into darkness once more.