But nothing happens.
I’m paralyzed.
My eyes are the only part of me that I can control. I stare at him, the blood in my veins a terrifying mix of the flames of anger and the icy crawl of horror. But neither of them manifest. Because my magic is gone.
He made me a prisoner inside my own body.
I’ll kill him for this. I’ll tear his limbs from his body, rip his precious fangs from his gums, tie him to a whipping post?—
“Don’t forget,Mae. You had a choice,” he says with a smirk before turning and walking toward the exit. He pauses in the doorway. With a flick of his wrist, the lights extinguish.
And I’m stuck here.
In my own body.
In my new cage.
The first time I hear his voice in my head is on day thirteen.
Are you ready to cooperate yet?he croons in my mind, low and sensual. It sends shivers down my spine.
Fuck you,I bite back.
His chuckle is the only answer. If I could move, I’d claw my pointed ears from my head.
I haven’t moved from this damned throne in days. My muscles ache, my backside numb from sitting here. Since I’m not given leave to use the bathroom, the guards visit once per day to clean and dry my soiled clothes. I’ve lost any sense of shame by the fourth time. My only reprieve is when Marik loosens the hold on my face and neck to allow me to eat the meager meals they hand-feed me.
Even that is quickly taken away when I start spitting the food out. He wants me—no,needsme—alive.
So, day thirteen is also the day I decide I have to kill myself.
On day eighteen, Marik strolls into the throne room. He walks toward me, eyeing me up and down.
“Hello, darling,” he says before coming to a stop in front of the throne. I shift my gaze to meet his, but it stops at his chest because I can’t move my neck. “Here’s what’s going to happen,” he says, clasping his pale hands together. “I am going to release you. Together, we are going to walk to your new living quarters. You will not fight me, nor will you try to escape. Nod if you understand me.” My head bobs up and down, despite my inner thoughts screaming for it not to. “Right. Of course you understand, because those are my orders. Now, follow me.”
Once again, my body does as he wills it. I stand and instantly stumble. My knees collide with the marble floor and pain shoots through me. My instinct is to gasp, but my jaw is locked.
Marik doesn’t even look back.
My traitorous body rises and follows him from the throne room, every other step a stumble as weak legs fight to keep up.
He leads me to the foyer. Just as I think we’re about to walk out the doors, he ascends the grand staircase. My thighs scream as I follow him, and I watch in dread as he walks to Mae’s living quarters.
“I thoughtyou might be more comfortable staying in your own space. It might be nice for you to sleep in a bed. You’ll have regular access to food and water.” He looks back at me, his face crinkling in disgust. “You’ve lost too much weight. Mae was thin, but not that thin.”
He pauses, waiting for me to respond. I will my mouth shut.
Yes, Marik,he says in my head.
“Yes, Marik,” I echo against my will.Yes, Your Highness.“Yes, Your Highness.” This time, shame and anger burn, twin flames stoking my hatred for him.
He opens the door, but I don’t move.
“Does everything have to be so difficult with you?” he grumbles.
He forces me to enter the living quarters. Everything is exactly as we left it on the morning of Mae’s wedding. Dirty champagne flutes rest on the coffee table, empty bottles left discarded nearby, an ivory hairbrush in the armchair.
I grit my teeth as my body turns to face Marik.
