Reyna glanced up when the two familiar warriors appeared outside of her cell door. Sighing, she stood from her stool, and frowned when she realized their hands were empty. The sun had just begun to rise, and her stomach had twisted itself into knots of hunger. The warm bread from the village felt so long ago.
“Lord Bowen wishes to see you,” the warrior grunted, unlocking the door and swinging it wide. “Make no attempts to flee or we’ll be forced to shove our blades into your back.”
“Sloane, you mean,” she muttered.
They would do no such thing. Sloane’s orders had almost certainly been clear: Reyna was much more valuable alive than dead. The former king wished to use her against her father. If she tried to escape, they would make her life a living hell, but they wouldn’t kill her.
She wasn’t certain if that was a good thing or not.
As the moments in the cell had stretched into hours, Reyna had been left with nothing other than her defeated thoughts. She saw no way out of this, no way to stop the battles that would destroy so much of an already war-stricken land. All her life, she had fought to become more than just a princess sitting prettily inside the safety of castle walls. But now she was even more helpless than she had ever been in her life.
Just as before, the warriors led her out of the dungeons, up the spiral stairs of the tower, and into Sloane’s study. Once again, he wore the face of his brother, golden and strong. He sat quietly, bent over his desk, scribbling his quill against a curling sheet of parchment. Reyna could only imagine the contents of his letter. Another plot, no doubt.
The warriors shoved her toward the floor, and her knees cracked against the stone. They shuffled backward, blocking the door, just as they had done the previous visit.
Sloane continued to ignore her, scribbling away as if she had not just been thrown before him. Narrowing her eyes, she pushed up from the ground on shaky legs.
“It is rude to ignore guests,” Reyna snapped.
He glanced over his shoulder and gave her a dismissive wave. “You are not here for a chat. I need your ring.”
Reyna frowned. “My ring?”
“Oh yes.” He shifted on his chair again, turning back toward his parchment. “Sources tell me that you wear that always, and it is clearly an ice fae ring, one that has been in your family for years. I require it.”
Reyna curled her hand protectively around the ring and pulled it to her chest. This was her mother’s ring, and she had not removed it a day in her life. She would never give it up, especially not to her enemy.
“That isn’t going to happen,” she said quietly.
At that, he dropped the quill and stood from his chair. As tall as she was, Sloane in his brother’s form still towered over her. Lord Bowen had been younger than Sloane, and he had not succumbed to the same rot and ruin that the former king had. In this glamor, he was strong, powerful, and his gaze sharpened with anger.
“I need your ring, and I will have it,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. “It provides proof that I have you.”
“You will have to find another way to provide proof because I am not giving up my ring,” she said hotly, tossing her messy hair behind her shoulders.
Her heart beat hard. She was playing with fire, and she knew it, but she would not give up one of the only things she had left of her mother. The female who had raised her, had loved her. The female who had given up her life to save her.
Sloane chuckled. “You do realize that you do not have a choice in this matter, yes? I have hundreds of warriors here at my disposal. I am giving you the chance to hand over your ring willingly. If you do not, I will be forced to have it removed. By cutting off your finger, if necessary.”
All the blood drained from her face just as a strange sensation whispered through her body. Reyna clutched her hand tighter to her chest, the ring digging hard into her palm from where she had it splayed against the ice. As she stared at Sloane, the entire world seemed to shudder to a stop.
Suddenly, something inside of hersnapped. Electric currents rushed through her veins, almost taking her breath away. She gasped out loud. Sloane smiled, taking her shock as a reaction to his words and not to the strange energy whorling through her body.
“Perhaps you finally understand me.” Smiling, he held out his hand. “The ring, Reyna.”
Something in the corner of her eye caught her attention. A flash of white. Keeping her head still, she cast a gaze toward it, merely shifting her eyes to the side. Wingallock circled the air just outside of the window, outstretched wings glistening in the sun.
The owl stared at her as he flew, peering deep into her soul. She had not called him here. He had come on his own. As he continued to stare, she understood something deep within her gut, even though it made no sense at all. Even though it was absolute madness.
Holding her breath, Reyna turned her attention back upon the wicked former king. “As soon as I hand it over, you’ll send me straight back to the dungeons.”
He frowned. “Of course. Does that come as a surprise to you? I cannot just allow you to roam these halls, Reyna.”
“Not at all,” she said lightly, shifting closer to the window. “I just want a brief moment of fresh air and sunlight before you throw me back down into the dirt.”
His frown deepened as she edged over to the window. Sucking in a breath, she splayed her hands across the cool stone and peered outside. Wingallock had risen just slightly as she approached. Just high enough to avoid the view of anyone inside of the room. Reyna leaned forward and looked down.
It was a very long way to the ground.
