Trapped

by Jessica Lynch

  “If only it was as easy as that.”

  “It can be.”

  Rys doesn’t reply for a while.

  What’s going on? I don’t dare risk opening my eyes in case he figures out that I’m awake. I struggle to control my breathing, pretending as if I’m fast asleep and not totally eavesdropping on him.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing,” Rys says. “I thought I heard… forget it. It’s not important.”

  “It might be.” The guard explains, “Dusk is on patrol tonight. I better go before he wonders why I linger before the traitor’s cell.”

  A soft murmur. I think my cellmate expects that I might be listening in after all because not only does he agree to end it, but he lowers his voice so that I can’t pick up on another word. The guard does the same and, within minutes, he’s gone.

  Damn it, I never got to see his face.

  Barely audible footsteps tiptoe closer to me. I hold my breath, but only the rustle of the sheet as he lays back down follows it. After a few minutes, his breathing evens out. It’s probably a safe bet that he’s gone back to sleep.

  I don’t peek. Just in case. I wait a few minutes more, then roll onto my side so that I can stare at the blank, stony, craggy wall across from me and mouth the words, “Oh my God,” to no one in particular.

  What the hell was that about?

  I wake up, feeling groggy and super tired. It’s a struggle to remember what day today is and, after a few seconds, I mutter, “Twenty-three.”

  “Mmm… did you say something?”

  At the unexpected voice, I jerk and nearly fall off of the cot.

  How could I have forgotten that I’m sharing a cell with Rys now?

  He’s on the other side of the cell, arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the wall. The sheet he slept with last night is folded neatly, tucked in a corner out of the way. He’s obviously been up for a while and from the slight quirk of his lips, he finds my near-miss funny.

  “Nice,” I mumble, pushing myself up into a sitting position. I’m embarrassed that he caught me off guard and I say in a snippy tone, “I could’ve broken something if I hit the floor face-first.”

  “Would you have let me catch you?”

  “Nope.” When Rys raises an eyebrow, I tell him, “I know what happens when one of your kind touches me without permission. You’d be burned. I wouldn’t want that to happen to you.”

  For a second, his whole face darkens. He looks angry, but only for a second. The next time I blink, his uninterested expression is back. “Someone’s tried?”

  “The Seelie noble who tried to buy me from the market.” It sounds so crazy when I say it out loud. “He didn’t like it when I kept saying no.”

  He scoffs. “You could beg me to touch you and I wouldn’t.”

  Ouch. Tell me how you really feel. I decide that, if he ever does try, I’ll smile as he starts to blister.

  Then, ignoring his comment, I reach up and pat the rat’s nest that is my hair after a rough night’s sleep. I take out the hair tie, running my fingers through the waves I get from braiding my hair when it’s damp. It feels like straw and I grimace.

  Jeez, I’d do just about anything for some good shampoo. The shower box provides a soap that I figure is to an everything wash—hair, face, body, everything—but it’s killing my hair. I figured it’s not designed for dyed hair because Rys’s hair is freaking gorgeous no matter what.

  I’m so preoccupied trying to work one super stubborn knot out of my hair that I don’t even realize that Rys has crossed the cell back toward me until he speaks up.

  “Did you sleep well?”

  Sweet dreams...

  I jump, then quickly ball up the entire length of my hair, tying it into a twist on the top of my head to hide how nervous he just made me. Besides, I’ve put off taking another shower for too long. I’ll have to do that today. “Um. Yeah. You?”

  “Well enough.”

  I feel like he’s fishing. Good luck, Rys. This chick isn’t willing to be bait.

  I’m not a moron. Now that I’m stuck in the same cell as the scarred Seelie, confessing that I overhead his conversation with one of the other guards doesn’t seem like the brightest idea. I only hope he doesn’t suspect I did. This close, I’m not too sure I want to piss him off.

  Besides, I’m still trying to process some of it. The part where the other guard told Rys he could get out of Siúcra and he refuses to even think about it? It makes no sense. He really doesn’t want to leave.

  I don’t get it.

  And that reminds me…

  I don’t know him. I was reminded of that fact again that last night. Except for his name, the fact that he’s Seelie and a killer, Rys is a mystery to me. Dusk obviously hates him, something strange is going on considering how often he’s taken from his cell, and then there’s the scar.

  Every fae I’ve met, whether they were Seelie or Unseelie, Light or Dark, they were utter perfection when it came to their bodies and their appearance… except for Rys.

  I tried to bring it up before and got shut down. He point-blank refused to talk about his imprisonment, either, but I’m willing to let that go. If he killed his almost mate’s sister, that’s as good a reason as any for me to be in prison.

  But how did he get that scar?

  As if he knows exactly what I’m thinking—and he probably does since I’m totally staring again—he lifts his hand, the tips of two of his fingers ghosting over his scar.

  He does that a lot.

  “What happened to your face?” The words are out before I even realize I’m asking them. Then, because I’ve already pulled the whole open mouth, insert foot stunt, I ask, “Where did you get that scar?”

  When all he does is look down at me with another scowl, I realize I made a huge mistake.

  Oops.

  I brought up the scar yesterday, too. He chose to pretend that I didn’t, but maybe that was because I didn’t come out and, you know, actually use the word.

  Now that I did?

  Yeah. He’s not too happy that I mentioned it again.

  “Leannán. Let’s make a bargain. Shall we?”

  Warning bells go off. I might still be a bit green around here, but I’ve been in Faerie long enough to know that a bargain with a fae is even worse than a deal with the devil. No way I come out on top if I agree.

  Still, that doesn’t stop me from asking, “What do you have in mind?”

  His lips quirk upward. The grin is barely noticeable except for the way it tugs on his scar. I think it might be the first time I’ve ever seen Rys look at me without glaring.

  Hey. I’ll take it.

  “It’s very simple. You want someone to look out for you while you’re imprisoned. I don’t want to answer any inconvenient questions. Don’t ask me why I’m here and I’ll make sure you survive your time inside. A fair trade, I’d say.” His lips dip a little, his golden eyes almost blazing out of his perfectly imperfect face. “Do we have a deal?”

  Keep my mouth shut when it comes to his scar and his crime in exchange for him watching my back?

  I think of Dusk, and the promise in his silver gaze whenever he looks at me.

  I don’t offer Rys my hand—I still can’t let him touch me—but I nod. “Deal.”

  7

  A thick, glass baton raps against the cell bars, the loud clanging ringing in my ears.

  “Twenty-five,” I murmur to myself, continuing to keep track. I yawn, then open my eyes.

  Rys is already up. Whether he was sleeping when the guards got here or not, he’s now standing in front of the bars, facing off against the two Unseelie guards on the other side.

  I don’t recognize the one with the baton. But his partner?

  Yeah. I know him.

  “Back up.”

  Rys throws up his hands, taking one, maybe two steps away from the bars. “I know. Back up, then step out with my hands up unless I want the irons.”

  Dusk lets out
a harsh sound from the back of his throat. It’s so at odds with his normally clear voice, I can’t help but frown. Who pissed in his Cheerios?

  “We’re not here for you, traitor,” he sneers angrily.

  I flinch as three heads swivel to look at me.

  “What do you want with the human?” asks Rys.

  “It doesn’t concern you. Just the human.” Dusk points at me. I notice that he’s wearing something on his hands. I… the only way I can explain it is it looks like Michael Jackson’s diamond glove. Seriously. “I have the diamaint. Do what you’re told and I won’t have to use it.”

  I glance at the other Unseelie guard. He’s wearing it, too.

  How much do I want to bet that the diamond covering their hands makes it so that they can touch me without permission? Sure, they won’t get off on it, but they won’t be burned, either.

  I… really don’t want either one of them getting that close to me.

  “I’ll listen.”

  Rys moves so that he’s standing in front of me again. “You won’t because I won’t allow it. The girl stays here. Wherever you’re taking her, I’ll go instead.” I can’t see his face, since he’s in front of me, but Rys’s head turns, glancing from one Unseelie to the next. “Remember the bargain.”

  Dusk steps past the other Unseelie guard. He actually walks right into our cell.

  “This has nothing to do with that. Don’t get any ideas. You try to stop me from doing what I’ve been ordered to do and it won’t be you who pays for it. I’ll take my pound of flesh out of the human’s hide.”

  “You can’t touch me,” I point out. My voice is shaky, my legs wobbly as I perch on the edge of the cot. Not this guard. Anyone but this guard. “You don’t have permission.”

  Dusk flexes his hands, showing off his gloves.

  “I won’t need it.”

  Damn it. I was right.

  After some posturing between Rys and the guards, I’m taken from my cell. My questions fall on deaf ears—Where are they taking me? What’s going on? Am I moving cells again?—and I eventually stop asking them when it becomes clear that no one owes me any kind of explanation.

  I’m brought to a whole other part of Siúcra. Halfway through, we leave the prison aisles I’m familiar with. Dusk marches me through a door tucked between two narrow cells. He mutters something, the door evaporates into golden sparkles, and we’re in a dark, gloomy hall that belongs in a haunted castle or something.

  No fairy lights here. A few spotty torches, and that’s it.

  We pass a few wooden doors set into the brick. Each one has a crystal doorknob. I want to ask what’s behind them, but I can’t muster the nerve. It’s spooky and quiet back here and, when we emerge back into the sterile prison halls, I let out a sigh of relief.

  Until they open one of the magic doors with a whisper and I’m marched into a small room with one chair, one table, and a mirror for the fourth wall.

  There’s a pair of iron cuffs on the table. The other Unseelie commands me to put them on. Feeling a pit in my stomach, I do.

  Dusk lowers himself to one knee. A crystal shackle is attached to the chair; because it’s transparent, I don’t see it at first. It isn’t until he lifts the hem of my jeans and claps the shackle on that I even notice it.

  With the bare bit of skin revealed, the patch between my boot and where he hiked up my jeans, Dusk runs his gloved hand along the back of my ankle. It’s a soft caress, but the diamonds sewn into his gloves aren’t smooth. They’re jagged, uncut, and they slice right into my skin.

  I yelp.

  Dusk chuckles, pats my ankle again, then lowers my pants leg.

  Damn it. I behaved. I didn’t give either guard a reason to touch me with those gloves on the long walk to this space. And now he takes advantage of me being trapped to this chair to cop a feel? It doesn’t do anything for him except hurt me.

  And that’s the point, isn’t it?

  God, I fucking hate him.

  He pats the top of my head. A stray hunk of hair gets caught in the diamonds. It pulls when he takes his hand back.

  “Wait here.”

  I’ve got the iron handcuffs on, my feet shackled to the floor with crystal. Where does he think I’m going?

  The precautions all make sense a few minutes later when the mirror in front of me starts to shimmer. My reflection disappears, replaced a few seconds later by a face that still haunts my dreams.

  “Remember me, Elle?”

  As if I could forget.

  He’s as pretty as I remember. Magnificent, really. The Seelie noble just has an elegance about him that the guards lack. Rys is pretty close, when he lets the charm slip into his tone, but the scar kind of ruins the effect. With Veron, he’s pure perfection—and it still turns my stomach to see him.

  “Lord Veron. It’s been a while.”

  “Yes. You’ve been in Siúcra for some time now. You look better than I expected. Perhaps the magic feeds differently on humans.”

  That’s right. Because Siúcra is one big, ol’ parasite. Without us prisoners, the magic would die out. Talk about a catch-22. We feed the beast with our emotions and our strength so that it can be strong enough to keep us inside. Without the prisoners, there would be no prison.

  Gotta love that.

  I shrug. “I wouldn’t know about that.”

  “Yes. I’m sure you’re not enjoying yourself.”

  This is one of those times that I’m glad that I’m human. I can lie my ass off. “Having a ball. Sending me here is the best thing you could’ve done for me. Thanks.”

  Veron winces. Is it because of my tone? Or the way I spat thanks at him like that? Rys hates it so I figured the Seelie lord would, too.

  Bulls-eye.

  “There’s a reason for my call. I paid a hefty sum for you, Elle. I’d rather not lose my investment.”

  Yup. Because that’s all I am. An investment.

  As if I wanted the reminder that he bought me at an auction. Technically, he owns me.

  Technically, he’s a dick.

  “I’m sure you’ve had time to think over my proposition. I’ve called on you to see if you’ve changed your mind. Stop this charade right now and I’ll see to it that you never set foot in a cell again. You can leave Siúcra this instant.”

  “What?” I’m so surprised, I drop my flippant attitude. “I was told there was no way out.”

  “For a prisoner,” Veron confirms. “If I withdraw my claim, you’d be as innocent at the guards. You could walk right out of Siúcra—”

  I see where this is going.

  “—and walk right into your room, right?”

  Veron doesn’t even look a little bit ashamed.

  “Yes. That’s my offer. You can come home with me. Or you can stay in Siúcra.” Veron gestures behind me. “With him.”

  I don’t have to turn around to know that Dusk is standing there.

  I swallow roughly, then shake my head. “I don’t want you to touch me. I’ll stay right where I am.”

  “So be it.” The mirror flickers. It doesn’t do much to hide the fury mixed with disappointment that twists Veron’s expression. “You’ve made your choice, Elle.”

  I guess I did.

  Veron or Dusk. Not much of a choice, but there it is. I didn’t really see it like that, but from the way the Unseelie guard is humming as he unshackles me from the table and orders me to my feet, I doubt he’d agree with me.

  When I get back to our wing, Dusk leads me right to my cell. My new cell, the one I share with Rys.

  My old cell? There’s no one in it yet. I’m pretty much convinced that Dusk’s reasons for putting me in with Rys are bullshit. Maybe a new prisoner’s coming eventually, just not yet. Sticking me in here with Rys is for his sicko amusement.

  Only… my new cell is empty, too.

  “Where’s Rys?”

  “He didn’t move fast enough when I told him to step aside. In Siúcra, there are penalties for not doing what you’re told. You’ll l
earn that before long, Elle.”

  It’s in the way he says my name. Possessive and sure, so different than the sneering way the other fae call me human.

  Oh, boy.

  I’m in trouble.

  I should’ve known something was up when he dismissed the other Unseelie guard. Every time I’ve been moved around the prison except for my arrival, there’s been at least two fae to make sure I don’t do anything stupid. Dusk took me through the back halls again on his own and, some time on our way back, he actually removed the diamaint gloves.

  He’s not afraid of me. He knows he’s in total control.

  And I really should’ve been expecting this.

  On the plus side, the irons fell off as soon as I crossed into my cell. Just like last time, they hit the stone floor and simply disappeared. My hands are free.

  That’s good.

  What’s not good?

  Is how Dusk doesn’t hesitate to follow me into the cell.

  I didn’t even realize at first. I’m too worried about Rys, and once the cell door slams, I think that Dusk is ready to leave. I don’t want to look at him again—I still can’t get the way he said my name out of my head—and that’s a mistake because I don’t realize that he’s right behind me until I turn around and he’s there.

  That’s not at all. He… he did something. It’s starting at the corner, where the cell door’s hinges meet. A dark cloud, a thick puff of smoke, is forming at the floor. As I stare in horror at it, unable to meet Dusk’s face, I see it grow.

  It gets bigger and bigger and I feel like I’m about to get sick.

  It’s the same kind of shadowy curtain the Unseelie guards would put up outside of Posey’s cell. Only it’s here. It’s in front of mine.

  And Dusk is in here with me.

  “What… what are you doing?”

  “I think you know.”

  I play dumb. “No. I don’t. You’re not supposed to be in here with me.”

  “I’m not supposed to do a lot of things, but no one can stop me. That’s the beauty of being fae in Faerie, Elle. In Siúcra, I am king. And you will bow to me. It’s time.”