Maeve looked him down from head to toe. “You’re a Nicklefrost.” She said.
“I am,” he said. “Something I’m proud of.”
Her brows pulled together.
He frowned. “It will be beneficial for you to remember your pride.”
Maeve leaned back against the wet wall. “I have never forgotten it.”
He glared at her. “Up.”
Maeve took a deep breath and pushed off the ground. She followed Nicklefrost out of the cell and across a wet dungeon. She shielded her eyes as bright light blurred her vision at the end of the dungeon hall. They walked across a long dining hall, its floors a dark wood and pale grey walls.
Nicklefrost led her to a study. The smell of a roast hit her nose as he opened the door. There was a small table with a smoking pot of strew and a variety of bread.
Maeve’s stomach growled.
Nicklefrost shoved her down into a seat, his grip on her shoulder tight. Maeve refused to wince.
“Manners, Nicklefrost.”
They looked towards the desk. Kietel appeared from a doorway across the room. He placed a file of papers on the desk and took off his glasses.
“You’re dismissed.”
Nicklefrost saluted Kietel. And left without another word. Kietel crossed towards her. He sat across from her, unrolled a set of silverware wrapped in a black napkin, and set his plate.
“Please,” he said, gesturing towards the food between them, his tone businesslike.
Maeve didn’t move. “How long have I been out?”
“Two days.” He poured himself a bowl of strew.
Maeve’s stomach cried, begging to be fed.
“You drugged me?” She asked.
“Elixir of Somnum. Nasty what that does to a Magical. The ancient ways of keeping us enslaved.”
Maeve didn’t speak.
“And,” he said, “gave me enough time to bind those on your arms. Did you know humans in the realm actually build moonstones into their houses to ward off our kind? Or they wear it on their bodies fashionably. Clever little creatures, don’t you think?”
Maeve remained completely silent.
“Of course,” said Kietel, “most of you pious Purebloods think you are as special as it gets. When in reality, the humans are surpassing you at every bend. Something I cannot seem to make your father understand.”
Maeve’s eyes widened and lifted up at him.
Kietel smiled in an evil way.
“The last of the Sinclair line,” he said.
She scowled at him. His icy blue eyes were cold and flat.
“Reeve will be in deep shit for letting me slip away with you. Did you see the horror on The High Lord’s face? I’ll cherish it forever. Perhaps now your father will finally hear my terms. It seems a blast of magic powerful enough to destroy thousands of lives wasn’t enough to dissuade him. Perhaps his flesh and blood will be.”
Maeve released a tight breath. He was alive then.
