“Your dragon’s pain is the strongest we have ever felt. We could easily kill him. Take out his heart. But why when we can keep him alive for all eternity and make him suffer every single day?” He strides over to Roarke, taking the knife from the guard and thrusting it deep into my dragon’s side.
“We will use him as an example for all the people of the realm. Bind him in the center of the Market and bring him to the brink of death over and over again. Such a powerful warning against ever lying to the Fae.”
“Please, stop this,” I beg. “I will fulfill my bargain. There is no need—“
The King snarls as he passes the blade back to the guard and stalks towards me again. “I could flay all of the skin from his body—and may very well do so—because of your disobedience. His pain? All of it? Is on your head.”
“No,” I sob. “I will not resist. I will marry your son tonight if you will release Roarke unharmed.”
“Nothing will stop the Prince from taking you as his mate, you foolish girl. I have no reason to even allow you to voice your demands. Return her to her room, my son. Then it is your turn to siphon the pure, unadulterated pain from this wretched creature.”
The King turns away, dismissing me, and I lose control, screaming obscenities as I kick the Prince in the balls, then jump on the King’s back and wrap my arm around his throat. He sputters, wheezing, and stumbles, but with a wave of his hand, all of the air is sucked out of the room, and I am the one who falls to the floor clutching my chest.
Roarke’s pale lips start to turn blue, and his entire body convulses in his chains. My vision darkens, and just before I pass out, the air is returned, and I suck in a loud, shuddering breath. The Prince’s guards take me—one pinning my wrists together in his hands, the other holding my ankles, and carry me from the room as Roarke screams my name.
* * *
Back in my tower prison,I curl on my side, breathing in shallow pants. The guards kicked me so hard, I think one of my ribs is broken. They shackled my right wrist to my left ankle around the beam with only a very short chain, so I can do nothing but lie on the floor or sit hunched over.
The Prince forced more nectar down my throat not long ago, but though I feigned appreciation—and submission—I felt neither. Whatever new power now lives within me is awake and very angry. The Prince’s thoughts are as clear as glass, and I can even hear others in the stone tower, though they are so far away—and so numerous—I cannot discern individual words.
I must find a way to escape and get to Roarke. The first two fingers on my left hand are useless, and moving the others causes me intense pain. The shackles require a key that I do not have, and from this position, I can only reach the chamber pot they left for me, the shredded remnants of my corset, and a ew broken pieces of straw.
Closing my eyes, I strain to focus on everything I hear, but even though the nectar can no longer convince me the Prince is anything but pure evil, it can still tempt my broken body with sleep and muddle my thoughts.
But then, I hear one tremulous female voice.“Let me in. Can you not see I have medical supplies and food? I am the King’s consort, you stupid brutes.”
When the door creaks open, I try to wriggle around to see who is coming, but the pain in my ribs threatens to steal my consciousness.
The hands that flit over my shoulders shake, and a soft, sorrowful sound comes from the woman’s throat. She helps me to sit up, and then unbuttons her cloak and wraps it around me. It is cold in this room, even with the sun up, and I only wear the bloodstained sleeveless silk gown. No undergarments, no shoes. My boots are halfway across the room.
“Th-thank you,” I say. She’s human, that much I know. Her flaming red hair, green eyes, and the various bruises covering the left side of her face leave no doubt in my mind. Next to her, there’s a tray with a glass of what looks like water—actual water—that she presses into my free hand.
More proof she is not Fae.
“Who are you?” I ask when I have drained half the glass and feel almost alert for the first time since the Prince first forced that damn nectar down my throat.
The woman shakes her head and parts her lips.
I gasp, then regret the motion as my ribs send pain wrapping around my torso. Her tongue is mostly gone.
“He did that to you. The King?” I whisper, and she nods.
“I hate him. I wish I could kill him.”
Reaching for the woman’s hand, I forget my broken fingers for a moment. “I can kill him.”
She jerks back, wide eyed.
“I can hear your thoughts. I don’t know how. But if you can get me out of these shackles, I might have a chance. He has a dragon chained below ground.Mydragon. I need to free him. Then…maybe…” Speaking exhausts me, every breath sending pain wrapping around my torso.
“You are Fae.”
“No. No, no, no,” I wheeze. I cannot be Fae. I will not entertain the notion that I can be anything like these vile creatures. But the woman nods.
“You are the spinner’s daughter. She fell in love with one of the King’s own guards. I remember her being in the castle, though the guard tried to keep her hidden. My name is Noelle. I may be able to help you.”
The woman—Noelle—pulls up her skirt to reveal a dagger strapped to her thigh. Nausea claws its way up my throat.
