She chuckles. “A lot of good it’ll do you now.” A chill wind blows through, tossing my hair in my face and raising the gooseflesh on my arms. Wait, where’s my cloak? I’m dressed in a tan tunic and pants I’ve never seen before. The fabric is incredibly thin, and the sleeves are so short, they don’t even reach my elbows. I scan the occupants of the other nearby cells. They’re all wearing the same thing as me. And there isn’t a blanket in sight.
I let out a breath and rub circles on my temples in a vain attempt to relieve my aching head. “All this time, I had the means to escape, and I didn’t know it.”Because your mother lied to you.I feel like I should be angry, but really, I’m just hurt, betrayed. I trusted her and she lied—everything I thought I knew about myself was a lie. I sag against the bars. There has to be a reason, right? She wouldn’t just lie to lie. I have to believe she had a reason—
“They had you up in the slave camp, I take it?” the fae lady asks, breaking me from my inner tirade.
I sweep a hand under each eye, drying my tears before they can fall and clear my throat. “Yes.” I nod. “I’m Katya, by the way.”
“Mave.”
“I saw you at the market, didn’t I? The first day I got here. You were stealing food, and they caught you.”
Mave shrugs. “Me and over half of the fae in these cages.” She drops her head back against the bars, eyes blinking at the sky. “Ledi only knows how long I’ll be in for this time. At least I get fed here, even if the food is shit. I just wish I knew if my girls are alright. My sister said she’d take ’em if I got pinched again, but she’s got her own mouths to feed so…” She trails off.
I think back to how fae swarmed the spilled rice after she was arrested. “There’s not enough work, huh?”
She taps her nose. “Why pay for something you can get for free.” She laughs, but it has to be the saddest laugh I’ve ever heard. “Some days, I wished I was a slave. Probably get beaten and raped on a regular, but at least they get fed. But now look at me. Free food, and I spend my days lying around. Talk about luxury.”
I spit out a laugh. “And all the sunshine you could want.”
“More.”
It’s been five days.
Five days of my skin slowly cooking in the sun. Five nights so cold, I wasn’t sure I would make it till morning. I thought it couldn’t get any worse. Then came the freezing rain, falling like tiny bullets from the sky. I have no idea how long I’ve been like this, huddled in a ball, shivering so hard my teeth and muscles ache. Warmth is an abstract concept now. That was a different girl, at a different time, who had no appreciation for simple luxuries likea roof over her head or a fire in the hearth. She had power, even if she didn’t know it. Power to move freely, power to choose her next meal, power to breathe in something other than the fettered scent of sweat, shit and death that hangs over this place like a bad dream. I was never very devout before—simply going through the motions at morning and evening service so Leodin wouldn’t beat me senseless for making a “mockery” of him. But I’ve been doing a lot of praying these last few days: praying to Duje to heal my ravaged skin, praying to Casmir to help us get free, but today, I pray to Morgana.
Today, I pray for death.
And even in that, I have no choice.
The doors leading onto the prison platform squeal open, but I don’t pay it any mind. For the first couple of days, I eagerly watched the guards coming in and out, hoping by some miracle they were coming to get me and let me go. After that, I only checked if I heard them nearing my cage. Today, I can’t even muster up enough energy to open my eyes.
Which, of course, means today is the day they finally come. Something crashes above my head, startling me enough that I peek up from where my arm is covering my face to see what the ruckus is. Two guards, one brandishing a baton and the other an umbrella, stand outside my cage.
“Get up, girl. Let’s go,” says the one with the baton.
“She can’t understand you,” says the other.
It seems worthless to keep pretending like I don’t speak the language, but I keep quiet anyway.
The first guard shrugs and cracks the baton a few more times on the top of my cage before he leans down and unlocks the door. “Come on.”
If only it were that easy. I’d happily climb out of here—I don’t even care where I’m going at this point—but my muscles are as frozen as the rain. Locked into my protective ball, I can’t seem to do much more than wave my hand. “Ledi, burn me,” Baton guard says. “I’m getting too old for this.” The baton clatters along the top of my cage where he tosses it, and he climbs in after me, grabs me by the hips from behind, and grunting, drags me out the little door. The rough floor tears up my knees and forearms, but it’s the way that the movement forces my muscles to stretch that has me crying out in pain.
“You’re hurting her,” the guard with the umbrella chastises. “Here, take this.” He hands the umbrella to his friend, and the next thing I know, I’m being hoisted into the air, muscled arms and chest wrapping me like the most delicious blanket. That, too, is a bit painful as his body heat burns against my icy skin, but I sink into it, soaking up his warmth the way a starving man devourers a four-course meal. You know it’s too much, but you can’t help yourself. I have my face pressed to his chest, but I still hear the door opening and feel the change in atmosphere when we step inside. I keep my head down, too exhausted to move as shivers continue to wrack my body. After a few minutes, I’m deposited onto a rough stone floor facing a pair of black silk slippers. I haven’t even got the strength to lift my head and see who’s standing in front of me. I just plant my forehead on the floor and curl in on myself for warmth.
“Hello, Katya.” Raiden. I’d know that voice anywhere.
I start to reply, but my throat feels as though I swallowed glass, and my words turn to whimpers.
There’s a change in the air around me, but I don’t realize it’s Raiden crouching until his warm hand comes to rest on my head. Another whimper escapes me, as my pride gives way to survival. “Please,” I manage to say, my voice a raspy whisper.
“Please what, Katya?” He lifts my head by the chin, the ache in my neck almost unbearable after so many hours huddled in a ball. My eyelids feel as though they’ve been glued together, and when I do finally manage to peel them apart, the light stings them back into slits. Raiden peers down at me, his gaze soft, lips slightly tilted at the corners, like a benevolent god to his creation. In this moment, with my survival hanging in the balance, that’s exactly what he is to me.
“Please, master,” I say. Tears stream down my face and into his palm. He doesn’t seem to mind, and I’m too far gone to even consider hiding them.
His mouth curls into a smile. “That’s a good girl.”
Yes. A good girl. I will be a good girl. I will be perfect for him. I will worship him. I will do anything-everything. Whatever it takes.
