Thinning my lips, I think of the last time she conned me into her bed. The shining coin sitting in her palm would help, and she damn well knows it, but it makes me wary of who else she’s beckoned between the sheets. Everyone who doesn’t live within the noble inner circle is close to, or already, starvingout here. Our health isn’t the best, and some are worse off than others. Lady Hartsell doesn’t seem to worry about that, though.
She knows none of us would dare say anything against her. King Andor and good old Ronnie, as I call Snedronningen, will put anyone who slanders her name to death. It’s already happened once because of Hartsell.
“No thanks,” I say evenly, turning away. Cold be damned, my pride can’t take another blow. Buying sex always rubbed me the wrong way, and she does a good job making anyone who slides into bed with her feel guilty afterward.
A jingling sound catches my attention, and fuck me, I turn and eye her again.
“How about a bag?” she says, shaking it. Like I’m a trained dog waiting for a treat, and the insult burns. “We both know this won’t take too long, Ban.”
I never should have told her my name. The rejection is on the tip of my tongue when my stomach growls, her lips tugging to a smirk as I wrap an arm around my middle.
Gods damn it, she knows exactly how to tempt someone. It doesn’t have to be about seduction to sate her needs; she knows what drives people out here. And she hand-picks exactly who she wants between the sheets.
Swallowing my pride, I nod stiffly. She keeps the pouch in her hand until I’m standing on the landing to her home alongside her, the guards absent like they always are when she calls someone to bed. After dropping the pouch into my hand, she glides her nails across my cool skin, and the urge to run off with the money hits me.
If I run, she’ll tell the guards, and they will come find me. She’s a noble; we don’t have to follow the same rules.
When her hand fists the front of my tunic and drags me inside, the self-loathing cements itself deep in my chest. I can’t wait until she’s married and far, far away from the Frostlands.
The shrill sound of screaming wakes me up, my eyes shooting open in the cage. Irritation immediately joins the mild disorientation, and I scrub a hand over my eyes before standing.
Hartsell. What a cruel twist of fate that you became the Mad Queen after all.
A cage. I promised myself this wouldn’t ever happen again after the royals caught me in the Frostlands, and the Mad Queen captured us in Wonderland. Two types of magic fail me today, and as I watch Dima appear, ranting and raving, I see the rage peppered in his gaze.
Dima’s eyes find me first, which is the pattern we’ve formed over these past weeks. Of all his prisoners, he seems to check on me first. I’m the biggest threat he has down here.
He killed one of the butterflies who aid the Mad Queen, and he did something to enchant her prison when he tossed the body back. I know she’s gone, leaving one fewer prisoners for him to mess with. From here I can see the stone slab he likes to tie prisoners to, and I’ve seen more than one life fade before my eyes.
The soul that looks back, sometimes enraged, sometimes begging, wants more from me than I can give. So long as I’m trapped behind Dima’s tricky magic, I can’t do anything to reap the spirits, and they are stuck here to fester in the wake of their deaths. Many have drifted from the cave, and I have no idea whether that’s good or bad. Perhaps Ray will find them.
“Fool!” Dima snarls, scattering an assortment of papers across the ground. A book falls too, but it isn’t the spellbook I’ve seen before. “Foolish girl.”
Ah, this must be the girl he spoke with Morgan about. I haven’t had the opportunity to eavesdrop in the last few weeks since no one has reached out to him while he’s here in the caves. I almost miss Dima’s mother. At least she could gab.
His blue eyes laser in on me when he turns, jabbing a finger my way. “It’s always you Reapers! You messed up the balance!”
“I’m fairly sure we help maintain it,” I reply dryly.
“If it wasn’t for yourkind,” he sneers, spitting the word like Reapers are a different species altogether, “this wouldn’t be happening.”
“My kind,” I drawl, tapping my chin. He’s just outside the barrier, ever afraid to get close enough to touch me. He uses his magic, which is effective to a degree, but he never comes inside the cage with me or opens up the grate when he tries to torture me. We both know, without some type of barrier keeping my magic in check and me contained, I’d easily win a fight between us. “Or are you referring to these?” I ask breezily, gesturing to the diamonds cut into my forearms.
Dima’s wild eyes dance over the scars. He’s asked about them a few times, but each of us bears a different mark: my diamonds are cut into my forearms, Zarev’s spades are sliced into the back of his hands with another slash through the design, Raymundo’s clovers are carved into his palms, and Lucius's are hearts on his cheeks, just beneath his eyes.
Whatever he hoped to learn about inquiring about the scars, my answers didn’t seem to be what he was looking for. To be fair, I did give him mostly sarcasm and very little help.
He groans, shoving away from the bars of my cage. “No, mage, I’m not inquiring about the marks. That was just a fun bit of torture for the Mad Queen, wasn’t it?”
“Oh yes, I love having my skin flayed right before a hunt. Really makes the chase that much more real.”
Scoffing, Dima turns and shakes his head. “Always such an attitude, Frosty. For a mage who cannot get out of his confines, you have a lot of lip.”
“Come into the cage with me,” I goad. “We can see who’s got a lot of lip after that.”
Dima shakes his head. “Nice try, Frosty. But I haven’t had any success with my tests yet, so since you want to draw my ire today, let’s say we try again? I can’t do much until the princess is back from her little adventure. And she’s got one of you escorting her across the lands. Thefuckingnerve. She didn’t even ask me! Reapers are always in my way, ruining everything.”
As he begins to draw out weapons to try and cause harm again, I can’t help wondering who he’s speaking about. Ray or Zarev surely, but how long has it been since the news about Tressa? I can’t quite tell, but hopefully, an opportunity to make my escape will arise soon. I’ve had more than enough of Swan Lake.
