by Jen McIntosh
She looked away as the guards reached for her clothes. Her shirt was long gone, but her tough boots and blood-crusted trousers proved hard to remove. Her undergarments followed. Keriath thrashed and swore at the violation, but her humiliation didn’t end there. Her cheeks burned as they approached with washcloths and soap in hand. Keriath kept her gaze fixed on Talize, trying to hide her embarrassment behind blistering hatred. But the sly smirk twisting the Queen’s lips suggested it wasn’t working.
‘That will do for now, gentlemen,’ the Queen ordered. ‘Send in Goran on your way out.’ The guards stepped back, reluctance clear on their faces, but they bowed and left. Keriath let her eyes drift to Dell once more, to where he hovered in the doorway. Let her mind blend with his.
He’d folded his arms across his chest to hide his balled fists from the Queen, and his jaw was clenched so tight it was a miracle he hadn’t shattered his teeth. The urge to defend was roaring in his blood. But he forced himself to remain still, motionless as a statue. He wouldn’t – couldn’t – risk the Queen’s wrath. Talize followed Olena’s gaze and laughed but did not send him away. Another game, no doubt.
A moment later, the Queen’s pretty pet entered, a broad smile on his face as he took in Keriath’s state. It was hard to tell whether it was her state of undress or the humiliation in her eyes he found so exciting. Keriath shuddered.
‘It’s a shame she has to stay locked in here,’ he said. ‘We could have so much more fun in your chambers.’
Talize nodded in agreement. ‘I know. But Ylain insists she stays here, and judging by how brazen Drosta was when he delivered her to us, I’d say it’s for good reason. He was bursting at the seams with power. Her blood must be potent – I’m dying to taste it.’
‘Perhaps a small sample then,’ he suggested, ‘before we begin.’
Talize hummed, her head cocked to the side while she considered it. ‘You first.’
Keriath thrashed as he approached, but her chains held her tight. Dell twitched, struggling to contain his temper, and Keriath threw him a glare, warning him to hold his ground. He was no use to her dead.
Goran grinned as he lowered his head to her breast, his hands skimming her hips. She roared at his touch. Tender, but a far greater violation than Ylain’s abuse. He drank slowly, his tongue brushing across her flesh, and her stomach heaved in disgust. Tears ran unchecked down her cheeks while she waited for him to finish. Unable to watch, she kept her eyes on the curved ceiling above her.
Then it was over. Goran stepped back, and she looked once more to Dell.
He was shaking from the effort of his restraint, his eyes tracking Goran and the blood dripping from his mouth as he returned to the Queen’s side. Talize crushed her opulent body against his, devouring his mouth, tasting the blood on his tongue.
Keriath’s body chose that moment to rebel, and she was sick from the disgust and shame churning in her gut.
The Queen broke away. ‘Dell,’ she called out. Goran glanced at Keriath and grinned. It was a vicious, chilling thing. ‘Come here.’ Dell’s movements were stiff, forced, but he did as he was bid, and Keriath’s heart sank further.
Her stomach heaved again as the Queen turned Dell to face her prisoner and tore his shirt from his chest. His face was like stone, but she could see his unease in the set of his shoulders. He smirked as Keriath’s gaze skirted over his muscled chest and winked in reassurance. Talize hissed, drawing Keriath’s attention back to her while the Queen ran her hands over his body in a possessive caress. Then she spun him round, and Keriath heard herself gasp. His back was a ragged patchwork of scars that could only have been caused by one thing.
Dell had been flogged. Even if she hadn’t seen his shoulders tense, she could sense the stress rolling off him. Those scars were not something he liked people to see. To have them shown off like this? It made him feel exposed … vulnerable … weak.
The wave of disgust that crashed through Dell echoed in her as though it were her own, and the chamber reverberated with his defiant growl. Every thought, emotion and sensation that Dell had – the hatred towards the Queen for exposing him like that; the disgust at her touch, at Goran’s eyes on his body; the jealousy of watching the Queen’s pet feed … Keriath felt it all. And as Goran uncoiled a whip, Dell roared. There was murder in his eyes, but he was powerless to stop it. His rage lent her strength, and she lost herself in the bloody, vengeful thoughts that filled his head.
She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see his pain. Feeling it was hard enough.
The first crack of the lash was the worst, coupled with the shame and fear that crashed through Dell. A wave of memories followed.
The moment of his Claiming. Watching Drosta butcher a pretty young woman. His wife. His hands trembling with defiance as his new master forced him to murder his own child. The flogging Drosta had given him when he realised not even the Claiming could force him to love him the way he wanted. Each strike cleaved open his mind, horrors from his past breaking free with each blow, baring his heart and soul.
Finally, it was over, and Keriath shook with dread. She couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes. She could sense Goran stepping back just as someone else came closer, and she shuddered as gentle hands ran lovingly over her ruined flesh.
‘Look at me.’ Talize’s voice whispered in her ear, warm breath tickling her neck. Keriath shuddered, trying to ignore the command in those words. It was just as it had been in the throne room. Against her will her chin jerked up, her lips pulled back, baring her teeth in a silent snarl, and she met Talize’s bloody gaze. The Queen beamed at the pain in Keriath’s eyes and kissed her prisoner on the lips. ‘You are so exquisite,’ she murmured against Keriath’s mouth. She trailed kisses over her jaw and down her throat, setting Keriath’s skin crawling, before sinking her teeth in to feed.
Exhaustion tugged at Keriath’s mind, the lethargy of blood loss dragging her down towards the darkness. For the first time, she went willingly, desperate for any reprieve.
‘Olena. Wake up.’ It was Dell’s voice that roused her from oblivion. ‘Come on, get up,’ he insisted. His voice was harsh and raw, as though he’d been screaming for hours. A pang of sympathy pricked at her conscience.
Swearing, she did as she was bid. She didn’t have the strength to stand, so she pulled herself up to sitting. Dell was standing over her, the ragged remains of his shirt in his hand. Talize and Goran were gone, the door-bridge sealed shut behind them. Keriath glanced at Dell, but he seemed unperturbed by his current predicament.
‘You look … different,’ she murmured, curling in on herself when she remembered her nakedness. He handed his shirt to her without a word and looked away as she covered herself as best she could. She wasn’t sure what it was about him that was different, but there was a certainty, a determination in his posture that hadn’t been there before.
He dropped to his haunches in front of her and snorted. ‘And you look like shit,’ he said. ‘But I suppose that’s nothing new, is it?’
‘Prick.’
He laughed, but the humour didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘Come on, don’t be like that,’ he crooned. ‘I’m just trying to help.’
‘Then fuck off and leave me alone,’ she said.
His grin faded to a bitter smirk, and he sat down beside her. Despite her annoyance, she leaned in to his warmth. ‘Not going anywhere,’ he murmured, kissing the top of her head. ‘Even if I wanted to.’
‘And why is that?’ she whispered. ‘What did I do to warrant such loyalty? Your Queen just tortured you because of me. You’re in here because of me. How can you even bear the sight of me?’
‘I heard you. In my head,’ he admitted. ‘As I’m sure you noticed, I’ve suffered worse.’
Keriath growled. ‘You’re avoiding the question.’
‘Because I don’t know the answer,’ he admitted. ‘Maybe I’m just contrary.’
‘Not half,’ she snorted, smiling.
Dell chuckled. ‘Aye well, decades w
ith Drosta will do strange things to you.’
‘You know why he did it?’ asked Keriath. He nodded, trembling as the memories surfaced again, the fear drenching him in a cold sweat. ‘They don’t define you,’ she told him. ‘What people see of us … it’s just flesh, just skin and muscle and bone. Who we are, what matters, is what we hold inside. My people knew that better than anyone.’ She sensed his fear dissipate, his nerves settle as she spoke.
‘That what they told you when your father marked you?’ he asked.
Keriath nodded. ‘They’re just scars, Dell. They serve as reminders to us and as warning to others, for they show that we fought a terrible enemy, and that we won.’
He was quiet for a long time while he considered her words. ‘It feels like the Claiming,’ he said. She blinked in confusion. ‘Whatever this is, between us,’ he elaborated, ‘it feels like the bond a Darkling has with their maker.’
‘But the Graced can’t make Darklings,’ Keriath argued, shaking her head.
He shrugged. ‘And Drosta’s the one who made me. I know it doesn’t make any sense; I’m just telling you what I feel.’ She waited. ‘I know the Claiming inside out and backwards. I’ve been trying to find a way around it for decades, without much success. It’s not a conscious choice. The urge to protect, to defend – it’s a compulsion. Like my own survival instincts, if not even stronger. With Drosta … if it came down to my life or his, I wouldn’t even have a chance to think. I would have sacrificed myself to save him before I even realised what I was doing. That’s just how it works. It feels the same with you.’
‘Your thoughts are your own,’ Keriath pointed out.
It wasn’t a question, but he answered it anyway. ‘The Claiming doesn’t override free thought – at least, not on its own. That requires a conscious decision by the maker. It’s possible to make their dominion over their children so strong that the Hunt becomes an extension of themselves. Drosta never quite took it that far. It takes too much effort, and there were too many of us to control. But he suppressed any part of me that might seek to defy him, even with my thoughts. He couldn’t make me love him, but he did the next best thing.’
She shuddered. She couldn’t imagine what it was like to have your mind stolen. Her people had that power, but they rarely used it and never for such selfish reasons.
‘I still don’t understand how any of that explains this,’ she grumbled.
‘It doesn’t. And even if I understood it, I’m not sure it would make any difference. Talize knows there’s something there. She’ll try to turn us against each other.’
Keriath frowned. ‘Why bother? Why not just kill you?’
‘It’s not her style,’ he replied darkly. She followed his gaze as it tracked over her chains, the door, the iron spikes that surrounded her. ‘They’re fucking terrified of you, aren’t they?’
Keriath collapsed back down on the floor. If only her head would stop spinning for just one moment. ‘The Gods only know why.’
‘Because you’re Graced,’ he snorted. Keriath shrugged. He wasn’t wrong. They might be the legendary Darkling Queens, but they were still just mortals. They were not blessed with magic – not like she was – and no amount of Shade magic or stolen life would ever change that. Not that it made any difference.
‘I’m as good as mortal down here,’ Keriath murmured, staring up at the ceiling. ‘He built this prison to hold something far stronger than me.’
Dell growled. ‘Get a grip,’ he snapped. ‘Talize doesn’t care about what you know. She just wants to see you beg. You’re the last descendant of an ancient and noble bloodline. Your ancestors were chosen, above all others, to fight against Sephiron’s hordes. You were made to kill Darklings, born for it. You’re a predator, and she’s your prey. Act like it.’
Keriath bristled at the insult, at all it implied. But he was right.
They were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps echoing around the cell. Keriath debated whether to remain on the ground. While Ylain had commented on Keriath’s rudeness at not standing in her presence, Talize struck her as the kind who preferred to see her subjects on their knees. Keriath staggered to her feet, despite the weakness and exhaustion that had plagued her since she’d set foot on this accursed mountain.
Talize smiled to see Keriath standing, defiance written in every line of her wasted frame. ‘I would have thought you’d learned your lesson by now,’ she purred, stalking closer. Keriath said nothing. Instead, she stared the Darkling Queen down without fear or apprehension in her eyes. The Queen cocked her head to the side, considering. Then her gaze slid to Dell. ‘What about you? Learned your place yet?’
‘Inside you?’ he taunted with a cocky grin.
Talize’s eyes flashed as she looked to Keriath. ‘How are you controlling him?’ Keriath only gave a lazy smirk she knew would make the Queen see red. ‘No matter,’ Talize said. Then she snapped her fingers, and her guards came running. ‘Take him to my chambers. Tell Goran I will join him there in a moment.’ Dell struggled as they hauled him up and dragged him away. But it was four against one, and Keriath knew he wouldn’t risk letting Talize see how strong Keriath’s blood had made him.
‘What are you going to do to him?’ asked Keriath.
Talize purred, watching him leave, ‘Nothing he won’t enjoy … eventually at least.’ Then she turned those dreadful eyes on Keriath. ‘I’m going to turn him against you. No matter what it takes, I will break whatever hold you have over him. I will have him for myself.’
‘Why not just kill him?’ Keriath said. She was already weary of Talize and her games. ‘He’s just one Darkling. You have hundreds under your command.’
That evil smile widened. ‘I think it goes both ways. I think hurting him will hurt you. And there’s only one way to find out.’
‘And if you’re wrong?’
‘Then you can watch as I kill him. Slowly and painfully.’
Keriath was silent as she tried to slow her racing heart, the fear rising in her chest. Her voice was steady when she spoke. ‘What’s the point? I won’t tell you anything, and I don’t know what else you expect to get out of this.’
‘What else?’ repeated Talize, her eyes bright with excitement. ‘Other than watching you suffer? Or do you not believe that would be reward enough?’
‘And what have I done to make you hate me so much? Or do you just delight in pain?’
Talize laughed again. ‘I won’t deny that I enjoy fear and pain. Nothing makes me feel more alive in this world than seeing people tremble in my presence. But you’re Graced – a Unicorn too, even if you are disfigured. You should understand. How many have fallen on their knees and offered to worship you?’
‘None, that I am aware of,’ Keriath replied, smirking at the bitterness and jealousy in Talize’s voice. ‘I can’t help what I am.’
The Queen snorted. ‘No. The mighty Graced would never dare to admit fault.’ Her hand snaked out, touching Keriath’s cheek in a caress that was both tender and lethal. ‘I will break you before the end. I will see you on your knees, bowing before me, begging for my mercy, my favour. By the time I’m finished with you, you will do anything I say, for no other reason than to please me.’
‘Don’t count on it,’ Keriath breathed, jerking her chin up in defiance.
But Talize only smirked again and arched a speculative brow, before turning to leave.
‘Sleep well, little Unicorn,’ she murmured from the door. ‘Tomorrow, we begin.’
Keriath soon longed for Ylain’s brand of torture. At least the pain was clean. The drugs that Talize filled her with left her in a cloud of confusion and despair. As Dell had warned, it became difficult to separate dreams from reality. There had been little sign of him since they’d dragged him away, and Talize had not mentioned him again. Keriath assumed that meant he had not yet broken. The Queen would have been crowing about it otherwise. Her growing frustration became increasingly obvious in the torments she dreamed up for her prisoner.
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br /> There were the drugs that brought physical agony. Some caused such intense pain that Keriath blacked out. Others built more gradually so she could not escape into oblivion. Some lingered for days. Those were the easiest to deal with – she had become accustomed to giving herself to the pain.
It was the drugs that tortured her mind that she hated. Some brought pain, some pleasure. Talize’s favourites were the concoctions that made her see and feel things that weren’t there. Some things were terrifying, others were beautiful. Both caused equal suffering when she surfaced from the haze, tormenting her for hours between Talize’s visits.
The Queen had a dark mind and a twisted soul. They forced her to watch while they whipped a human who looked like Théon and tortured another that looked like Arian. Warm, kind-hearted Arian. Resari’s adopted sister and Kalielle Half-Elven’s heir. The four of them had been inseparable as children. She tried not to look. But it was no use. Because even once they were gone, all she could hear were Théon’s broken screams as the lash came down, or Arian’s terror as her tormentor approached.
Some small part of her whispered that it wasn’t real. But it was. Perception was reality, and Talize’s drugs altered how Keriath saw the world. Drew on her memories and twisted them into nightmares. And the Darkling Queen knew, somehow, that the pain of those Keriath loved was far harder to bear than her own.
Still, she would not beg. She would be haunted forever, but she would carry those horrors alone rather than submit. Her stubborn pride only incensed Talize further, and her torments became worse by the day. Keriath was sure, if she somehow survived, her memories of this time would leave scars far uglier than those that marred her skin.
Then came the day Talize lost her patience. When she entered the cell, there was murder in her eyes, and she carried a vial of blackest night in her hand. ‘I didn’t want to do this,’ she warned, her voice quiet. ‘Know that you have brought it on yourself. Had you only submitted earlier, I would have spared you this.’