“There is no use hiding it anymore. Unless you give me what I need, I will drag the High Warden here in pieces.” My eyes meet his now, a silent plea.
“Jones, bring me the High Warden—”
“No. Stop. I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you everything,” I shout in defeat. He shakes his head at the knight, his face splitting into a gloating smear.
“That’s more like it,” he says. He takes a seat in the chair in front of my cage, gesturing for me to talk.
“Fire is what it needs to grow. You burn something on the soil, it will germinate,” I say weakly, my eyes fixed on the ground in front.
“Thora, come here, please,” he calls impatiently. A woman, maybe a few years older than me, rushes out to his side, her eyes landing on me with wide apprehension.
“Is there a rune for growth? If I get the girl to plant the seed, I need it fully grown by sunrise.”
“Yes, sir. That can be done, so long as it’s planted properly and germinates on its own,” she says, her voice soft compared to the vile tone of his.
“Well, I think this has all worked out rather well, wouldn’t you say, Elodie?” he asks, his smirk pure evil.
“For you. Not for your kingdom,” I seethe back, wrapping my arms tighter around my legs. He narrows his eyes at me, his confidence faltering just briefly.
“Jones, bring her what she needs to plant the seed.”
Hours bleed into one another, the searing pain of cramps spreading through my limbs. My muscles are screaming, my body urging me to stretch, stand, and move.
They made me plant the seeds.
After a few hours of struggling to start a flame, eventually I got a spark from the flint and steel I had asked for. The room dropped silent at the first sight of the golden flames, every face watching in awe of the element they have been starved of. My hands struggled through the bars, working to burn a pile of leaves on top of the soil. A small blaze stung my fingers as I pulled away in pain.
“Fire, what an amazing gift.” Aldric told me, his eyes mirroring the flames.
“Fire is not a gift. It doesn’t care who it burns. It will take until there is nothing left. Just like you.” He didn’t like that comment. A jolt of electricity—white hot and jagged — ricocheted through my body. I gasped, my back arching against the silver bars as my nerves were scorched. My vision went blurry with tears as I strained to keep them open. Thora sat to his side, whispering those foreign words I had heard Bryn muttering. Aldric didn’t leave me after, instead he remained sat in front of me. Watching and waiting. When the sun set low enough that the room turned completely dark, he left me alone. My thoughts flick from pain to fear to guilt before I finally go numb.
How the hell am I getting out of here if no one can even harm my captor?
Every time I close my eyes, I see Rowan’s face. Bryn on the floor, struggling to breathe. Sam shouting over the chaos. Mara’s tears. Kael’s look of pure fear. The stars outside the arched window flicker softly in the night sky. I press my forehead against the cold silver. I’m alone, truly terrifyingly alone. And for the first time, I can’t think of a single way back to the light.
The black of night fades to a bruised, watery grey. The sound of footsteps has me instantly lifting my head. The door opens with a soft click. My eyes sting as the lights are switched on and I struggle to blink against the glare. The seed tray sits on the table to the side as Thora steps forward, her fingers dropping to the soil.
“It’s ready,” she whispers. Aldric stiffens at her side, not even acknowledging my presence.
“Do it,” he says. She steps forward, placing the seed tray on the floor in front of me as she kneels to the ground. She pulls a soft pouch from her pocket, creating a circle of what I assume to be salt. It’s the same as what Bryn did. She finally pulls a small silver knife from her belt, slicing her palm, not even a flinch of pain. The blood drips onto the soil as she chants. I watch in horror as the magic takes hold. Part of me was hoping I was wrong. That fire wasn’t the answer, and I failed once more, just so the King would die the death he deserves. But now, watching as dark green stems convulse from the soil, thickening and twisting high above the marble floor.
In the centre, a flower unfolds, exploding to life. The dark purple hues deepen against the pale pastel petals.
It’s… beautiful.
It’s not like any flower I’ve ever seen before. But before I can even take in the wonder of the Widowsbloom, Aldric lunges for the petals with shaking hands, shoving them into his mouth and chewing frantically. The change is nauseating to witness. The black veins in his neck are sucked back into his skin, the hollowness of his cheeks filling out. His corpse-like tint of flesh vanishes, replaced by a healthy, vibrant glow.
It’s like watching a body rot in reverse.
“Perfect,” he purrs, his voice now a rich, melodic baritone. “I feel the fire in my veins, little gardener. I feel everything.” My face changes to pure disgust. “Jones, kill the High Warden and his second in command.”
My heart stops.
The air in the cage turning to lead.
“No,” I gasp. I try to pull at the silver bars, my fingers trembling. “Aldric, you promised. I gave you what you wanted.”
