So, he somehow uses his powers in order to control his underlings. How…tyrannical of him, I thought, my mouth suddenly dry.
“Anyway, here we are.” She pushed the door, and I brace myself, half-expecting King Oberon to be on the other side waiting for me. But he wasn’t. I loosed a breath and followed Marcus and Rhiannon inside, glancing around at what appeared to be a small armory. Weapons of every shape and size donned the walls. Swords, daggers, scabbards, machetes. Even guns.
Marcus let out a low whistle, eyeing the stash appreciatively. “Magister Thorne never told me about this room.”
“That’s because it wasn’t his,” she said. “These are all the weapons the fae brought. Except for this one.”
She lifted a dark cloth from the floor, revealing the gleaming sword that sang to my heart. It buzzed and hissed, electricity shooting through the air as the blade sparked to life.
“Oh my goddess,” I whispered, reaching out to wrap my hand around the hilt. “Finally.”
“Not so fast,” a deep melodic voice came from the open door.
The three of us turned toward the sound, and my blood ran cold at the sight of King Oberon and a cluster of fae—maybe five in total—flanking him. My fingers itched for my sword, but it was across the room and in the fae king’s hands before I could blink.
He smiled, and his bright green eyes flashed gold. “Nice try, but you’re going to have to do better than that.”
Chapter 18
Marcus rushed at the king, but the fae knocked him back, slicing the goddess sword across the shifter’s chest. The blade cut deep, and blood poured from the wound. I choked out a cry of alarm, and my knees buckled. Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I pulled Marcus away before throwing my body between his and the fae. Marcus gasped in pain, and my heart and soul yearned to check the wound, but the murderous glint in the king’s eyes stopped me. He would stab the gargoyle again if I moved.
“Fine. You caught me.” I held up my hands. “Take me back to my room and lock me up. Just leave Marcus out of this. I’m the one you want, not him.”
The fae king let out a harsh chuckle. “You had your chance at a nice existence here, but you’ve ruined it, Rowena Mortensen. A nice soft bed and a view of the countryside is no longer on the cards for you. You’ll be staying in the dungeons from now on, only leaving if I feel like having some company for meals. And even then, you will be restrained and guarded. All of you.”
* * *
So, it turned out that we had merely gone from one shitty situation to the next. After taking away our weapons, Oberon’s guards escorted us down into the darkness. The dungeons were not unlike those in Dreadford Castle. If anything, these were darker and murkier and much more secure. The doors of each cell not only locked, but they were vertical rather than horizontal, opened only by a crank that slowly lifted them into the low ceiling above.
King Oberon’s guards threw all three of us into a cell built for one, Marcus’s wound still oozing with blood. When I demanded some medical help, they merely sniffed and laughed.
After the guards disappeared down the tunnel, Rhiannon and I eased Marcus onto the single tiny cot. I fell to my knees and ripped a long piece of my dress off the bottom. The material was thin and silky, but it would have to do. With shaking fingers, I wrapped the makeshift bandage around the wound on his chest. Once, twice, and then a third time before tying the ends in a messy knot.
“His heartbeat is weak,” the fae whispered as I stared at Marcus’s slack face. His eyes were closed and his breathing shallow. He didn’t even respond when I cupped his cold cheek in my palm.
“How?” I whispered. “They are all so strong. So indestructible.”
“Not in this form,” she said with a slight frown. “And that weapon of yours...well, it carries quite the punch.”
My stupid weapon. The one I still didn’t have. Every time I tried to get it, something went wrong.
“So, he would be better off if he were stone,” I said, leaning over him to watch the steady rising and falling of his chest.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “In fact, if he was strong enough to shift, it would speed up his healing significantly. It would be painful, but...”
“Marcus?” I whispered, my hand still pressed softly against his cheek. “Do you think you could shift for us?”
No response. My shoulders curved forward as my lungs squeezed for air. Suddenly, it felt very hot and stifling in the cool dungeons, like the walls were closing in from every side. This was all my fault. It had been my idea to go for the sword. If I’d just gone along with Marcus’s plan—get the hell out of the castle ASAP—this wouldn’t have happened.
Marcus could die. He might die, I thought, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might break. And it was all because of me.
Tears fell from my eyes, plopping onto Marcus’s shirt and soaking the material. Big, ugly tears that spoke of all the anger, pain, and frustration I’d been bottling up so deep inside. Everything had gone so horribly wrong. Everyone was against us. We kept crashing up against obstacle after obstacle. It was unrelenting, unstoppable.
A soft hand squeezed my shoulder. The fae. I’d forgotten she was here, too.
I sniffled. “Sorry. This is all just a bit much.”
Rhiannon sunk to the floor beside me, crossing her legs. It was then that I noticed the glow of her skin had dimmed, so much so that she almost looked human. “I should be the one apologizing. I could have done more.”
“You took us to the sword. What more could you have done?”
She let out a heavy sigh and dropped her head against the grimy wall, the white of her hair a stark contrast to the heavy gray that surrounded us. “I’ve always liked to think of myself as pretty bad-ass, you know? I’m a good fighter. I’m a particularly good shot with a bow and arrow. I’ve always struggled against King Oberon’s compulsion, but I always thought I’d be able to break free when it really mattered.” She closed her eyes. “Turns out I can’t.”
“He was compelling you then?” I asked. “To do what?”
“He’s always compelling Unseelies,” she said. “If we are in his presence, we are forced to do what he wants. Without him even thinking it. He didn’t want me to interfere, so I couldn’t. And if he’d wanted me to take that machete off the wall and swing it at your face...I’m truly afraid I would have done it.”
“He sounds terrible,” I said.
“The funny thing is,” she said with a bitter laugh, “he truly thinks he’s doing the right thing.”
“How is murdering an entire coven the right thing?”
“For his people,” she said. “For the Unseelies. No one and nothing else matters to him but them. But us.”
It sounded familiar. The same twisted logic that drove the Queen. The same excuse Marcus had used when discussing the questionable actions of Magister Thorne. And, I had to admit, it was even what drove the magic hunters to kill every witch alive. They thought they were doing what they needed to do in order to protect humans from harm. Except the world felt a hell of a lot less safe now than it had before.
“To top it all off, he’s weakened my powers.” Rhiannon opened her eyes, the bright, bright yellow now faded and pale. “Otherwise, I’d be able to get us out of here.”
“So, we’re stuck,” I said. “Like, really stuck.”
“Unless your other gargoyle guardians come to your rescue, then yes.” She flicked her eyes at Marcus. “Though I worry they wouldn’t fare much better than this one did.”
I thought of Sebastian, remembering the strange collection of powers he’d gathered over the years, doing odd jobs in exchange for his own kind of magic. But there were two problems with that. One, the shifters had no idea we were in trouble. And two, it would be a cold day in hell when I hoped for Sebastian to come to my rescue.
“They won’t come,” I finally said. “Not unless I can find our raven and send a note to explain we’re trapped. And well...I’m pretty sure that’s not happe
ning.”
The fae pursed her lips. “King Oberon will grow bored of this empty castle, and he’ll trot you out of this cell in order to play with you. He’ll want to poke and prod at you, hoping to get an emotional reaction. Figure out what buttons he can push.”
When I frowned, she held up a hand to continue. “It sounds terrible, but we can use it to our advantage. Use those slices of freedom to learn what you can. The guard rotations for the entrance to these dungeons. Where the wards are the strongest and the weakest. Their plans for drawing the blood mages out of hiding. Because trust me. He’ll have a plan. And when his focus is firmly on them? That’ll be our best chance to get out.”
Chapter 19
Despite Rhiannon’s insistence that the fae king would send for me, four days passed with no change to our new life under the ground. Marcus had finally stopped bleeding, but he was feverish. Sweat clung to his forehead, and his entire body flamed with a kind of heat that scared me. And he still wasn’t strong enough to speak, let alone shift into his stone form.
We were delivered food twice a day. And it was always cold porridge. The Unseelies grinned when they passed the tiny bowls through the bars, delighting far too much in our misery. It turned out the fae didn’t take too kindly to two of their number being killed.
Rhiannon was much different than the rest. She chattered warmly about her own realm, but her face came alive when she spoke of the mortal world. She’d never consumed a human, a small rebellion she’d managed despite the king’s wishes. It seemed he didn’t feel it necessary to compell his Unseelies to hunger for flesh. They were capable of that on their own.
“I have to admit, I would love to see your City of Wings,” she said from where she perched on a small stone ledge that jutted out from the wall. “A small self-sustaining island of stone that rises high from the sea. It sounds beautiful.”
Images flashed through my mind. The deep churning sea. The endless sky of stars. The ancient stone passageways. Silas. Jasper. Eli. Each one wearing the exact same expression on the day Marcus and I had left. Would I ever get to see them again? Would I ever again sit in the Scriptorium in front of the roaring fire, listening to Eli read from an ancient tome? Would I ever again see Silas’s gorgeous paintings and hear him speak so lovingly about the home of his heart? And would I ever again square off against Jasper, learning how to fight, learning how to fall.
“You in there, Rowena?” the fae asked. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”
I blinked and shook my head. “Sorry, I was just thinking. If we escape from this place, you should come with us. There’s plenty of room for you to stay. For as long as you want to. Since I’m assuming you won’t be returning to the fae realm with the king after this.”
She smiled. “When, not if.”
“Alright.” I smiled back. “When.”
Footsteps echoed on the stone floors and keys jingled. The signal that our guards were coming with our food. If we’d been keeping count correctly, that would make this our dinner on the fourth day of captivity. It was impossible to tell otherwise. There were no windows. No sign of the outside world at all.
But, this time, the towering fae guard held two bowls of porridge instead of three. My mouth went dry at the missing food. And my first thought was: They’re going to take Marcus away from me.
The guard shoved the two bowls through the horizontal bars and jangled his keys, his luminous eyes raking over me. His mouth twisted into a grin. “You look like shit, demigoddess.”
“Gee, thanks.” I crossed my arms and jerked my chin toward the two bowls. “What’s this then? You’re not going to feed me anymore? Did you decide it would be fun to starve me to death?”
“Stop your blathering.” He jammed the key into the lock and twisted it with a click. “The king wants you to join him for dinner, but you’re going to have to get cleaned up first.”
I frowned outwardly. But inside, hope sparked to life. This was what we’d been waiting for these past long and torturous days. A chance to get close to the king. To see what was going on out there. And to learn as much as I possibly could.
And, if I got the chance, to find the damn raven.
Of course, I needed to pretend not to be thrilled to my bones. I took a step back, brushing my hand against Marcus’s shoulder. He twitched under my fingertips, and I stared down at him in surprise. It was the most he’d moved since the fae had put us here. Was he coming to? Was he improving?
“I shouldn’t leave Marcus,” I murmured. Not a lie. The truth. But I also needed to see this through, and I doubted the fae would allow me to say no to the king. And I was right.
“Too bad.” The fae cranked the gate from the floor, and I took a quick glance at Rhiannon who hovered behind my shoulder. The flash in her eyes gave away what she was thinking. There was only one of him and two of us. We might be able to knock him over and escape.
He must have noticed our exchanged gaze because he pulled a gun from his back waistband. “Don’t even think about it. You’re weak, Rhiannon. The king saw to that. You wouldn’t stand a chance against me with your full power, let alone now.”
I pressed my hand to her arm and nodded, a silent signal to let it go. As tempting as it was, now was not the right time to make our move. We needed to stick to the plan. Wait. Learn. Wait some more. And, most importantly, hold off as long as we could, until Marcus was strong enough to move.
“Good girl.” The fae flashed a grin. “Not that I wouldn’t enjoy having a little fun with you myself, but the king has called first dibs.”
I wrinkled my nose but bit my tongue.
“Look after him,” I whispered to Rhiannon as I exited the cell. She would have to spoon-feed his porridge to him, just as I’d done every morning and every night. It was the one thing that kept my hope alive in all of this. Marcus could chew and swallow his food, which meant he wasn’t too far gone just yet. And as long as he kept fighting, I would, too. Maybe I could even sneak something from dinner for him, an extra burst of energy he sorely needed.
The fae led me down the tunnels and into the brightly-lit hallways of Thorne Hall. I squinted at the sudden light, blinded by the intensity of the bulbs. I’d grown so accustomed to the darkness to the dungeons, so comfortable with the shadows. The change was so glaring that it felt as though I’d stepped foot on the sun.
Just as the guard had promised, a shower was first on my agenda. He handed me a clean dress—very similar to the one I still wore and had ripped apart to make bandages for Marcus. Other than that, I was gifted with a single bar of lavender-scented soap. No shampoo. No conditioner. And especially no razor.
Once I was clean, dry, and smelling a lot nicer than four days of garbage, the fae led me out into the brisk wintry air, through a courtyard, and into Crimson Hall where King Oberon sat waiting at the dining table.
“Ah.” He glanced up from what looked to be a map and shot me a cruel smile. “The demigoddess has finally gifted us with her presence. Don’t you look ravishing in that dress?”
I frowned. Only Marcus could call me ravishing. Not this horrible beast of a creature who slaughtered anyone who got in his way. So, instead of sinking into the chair the fae guard had pulled up for me—which was exactly what the king wanted me to do—I stayed on my feet. Specifically, in a pair of stiletto heels that pinched my heel and my pinky toe. They were very obviously a size too small, as was this dress. A midnight black, it clung to my body like a rubber glove. Sleeveless and short enough to hit mid-thigh, I was definitely showing far more skin than I liked. Frankly, I didn’t know how I was going to sit in it.
The king’s smile faded. “Don’t just stand there. Sit.”
With an inward roll of my eyes, I obeyed, and the dress pinched tight around my waist and thighs.
“Good.” The smile returned and he motioned at someone behind me. Three fae scurried out from the shadows, balancing platters of food in their hands. My stomach betrayed me, grumbling loudly as the intoxicating scent of chicke
n, potatoes, and heavenly gravy wafted into my nose. My mouth filled with saliva, and my vision blurred. Goddess, I was hungry. So hungry I could barely contain myself.
“Now, I’m sure you are starving, are you not?” He arched a perfectly-manicured eyebrow. Did fae manicure their eyebrows? Probably. “Tell me, how is your stay in the dungeons?”
“It’s been very lovely, thank you,” I said, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Light and airy with a wonderful view of the beautiful stone walls.”
The king put down his fork. “You are here at my amusement, demigoddess. Try my patience too long, and I will send you right back into that cell. However, if you behave yourself, I’ll consider allowing you to join me for dinner every night.”
Rhiannon had been right. The king was bored stiff, and he’d only been stuck in this castle for less than a month. He didn’t want to send his “amusement” away, not really. But I still had to tiptoe carefully here if I wanted to lower his guards. So perhaps truth was better than the venomous sarcasm I wanted to poison him with.
I lifted a scantily-clad shoulder in a shrug. “What would you prefer me to say? That the dungeons are horrible and smelly? That I’d rather be stuck in this warm and cozy hall instead? Fine. I hate my cell.”
His wicked smile returned. “That’s much better. I’m pleased to hear you realize just how much better off you would have been if you’d merely been satisfied with your lodgings here. Tell me, how did you and the gargoyle escape from these quarters? There is no exit we didn’t have warded, that I’ve been able to find.”
My eyes flicked to the paper before him. The map. It all made sense now. He was hunting for our escape route when his original tactic hadn’t worked: search every nook and crevice in the hall. Which meant they hadn’t found the magical gateway that led from the closet to the tunnels. That could certainly come in handy later.
“I’m not sure,” I answered, doing my best to look wide and fearful. “Your fae guards attacked me. One of them threatened to eat my fingers.” I shuddered, a reaction I didn’t have to fake. “I’m not sure what happened next, but I think one of them knocked me out? Next thing I knew, I was in that other hall with Marcus kneeling over me.”
Carved in Stone_Protectors of Magic_Book 2 Page 8