PART X: CAIRN & AELIN
Two tables stood in the middle of a green meadow, shrouded in shadow by two figures. One stood absolutely still among the swaying grass, intently considering his surroundings. And the other laid upon the taller table, her limbs pulled taut and anchored to the to corners.
This was Cairn's idea of an 'outside game.'
They played many games during their playdates, as Cairn liked to call them. Some, he admitted, more creative than others. He liked to experiment with a variety of tools and mediums and elements, ranging from tubs of water to hallucinogenic poisons to iron darts.
Contrary to popular belief, the whip was not his favorite tool. It wasn't even his second or third or fifth or twenty-second favorite tool. In fact, were it not for the symbolism behind the whip in regards to his victim, he would never deem to use it. He thought that it took too much effort on his part. And Cairn was a firm believer that he shouldn't be sweating more than his playmate.
Cairn did, however, find extensive amusement in using fire and heat- something about the irony of using the element against the once great flame-bringer.
However, nothing brought him more joy or got his creative juices flowing quite like the good 'ole knife and bare back.
Cairn considered himself quite the artist, even though he never allowed anyone else to his art. It was personal to him, and the one thing that brought him real peace. He loved it. And today was special. Today was landscape day.
Even after the girl had been chained to the corners of the table, her arms and legs outstretched, and the rest of her guards ordered away, Cairn made no move to begin. He stood in silent contemplation, his eyes staring out across the scenery, and his hands gently hovering over his belt of knives spread out on a lower side table. He wasn't one to just jump into his work. He needed time to slip into his artistic calm- to create an image in his head before he transferred it onto his canvas. A slight breeze rustled through the grass, tousling his and her hair as they both slipped into their stone-faced killing graces.
The waterfall, visible from the throne room, roared in the distance. He closed his eyes and breathed in the warm air, the many elements from his environment piecing together into a single image. He spent another minute like that, taking deep breaths and savoring the different scents around him, before he let loose a pleasant sigh and opened his eyes. His lips curled into a boisterous grin, and he gently unsheathed a small blade from his kit, spinning it in his hand as he stalked forward to his canvas. He took note of his peaceful surroundings once more. And then he started to paint.
...
In the beginning Aelin didn't feel anything. She spent the minutes up until the first cut of the knife preparing herself- slipping into a mental calm. Eventually, the pain would become too much to shield, so rather than letting it all crash into her at once, she gradually let herself feel. Bit by bit, she let herself feel the knife strokes, until she was experiencing all of it.
Today she was in her fae form, so it wasn't as bad. Not that it was less painful, but when they made her shift back to human, her wounds couldn't heal immediately, so she was in constant pain, versus the often short bursts that came from being in her other form.
Also, they were outside. She didn't know how long it'd been since she'd been outdoors- since she'd felt the sun.
She hated that her heart squeezed with gratitude for something as simple as seeing the sun.
When she wasn't playing with Cairn, she was thrown into a solitary cell so dark, that whenever she woke up, she thought she had gone blind. She knew that it was just another tactic to wear her down-to make her break.
But as of now, Aelin was nowhere near breaking.
However, she was only a few years away from settling, and after years and years- decades, or even centuries- of this torture, she wasn't so sure she could advocate for herself. Who knew what a lifetime of being at Cairn's mercy would do to her. Maybe she would eventually break. Maybe she would completely lose herself- lose the will to fight. Maybe someday she would find herself grovelling at the feet of the Queen of Doranelle- would finally give the bitch what she wanted.
Cairn's knife dug in once more, starting a new stroke, and even though a scream erupted from her throat, Aelin took great comfort in knowing that today was not that day.
Today was landscape day. She loosed another scream as he retraced one of his lines, driving the blade down to the bone- swirling and gouging from the top of her shoulder, across her back, and down the side of her right leg. Every inch of her body convulsed at the excruciating fire which ravaged down her spine.
Sometimes she was lucid enough, and his chosen area far enough from her head that she could see his work.
This would not be one of those days.
She felt the familiar itch of her wounds closing and knew that soon, he would be gouging the line once more, to keep up with her healing.
He made use of the entire back side of her body- marking every surface with what was no doubt a stunning depiction of the lush tree line and distant swirling waterfall which inspired him today. She imagined that he was incorporating her scars into the lines of the rushing water, and the texture of the trees.
His marks wouldn't leave new scars unless she was in her other form- and even then, they almost always sent a healer to clean her human body afterwards. Cairn liked a blank canvas. A few times, though, whether out of ignorance or neglect, she didn't know, a healer hadn't come, and there were several new additions across her body- remembrances from her time with Cairn.
She recalled the few times that a healer hadn't been called, and the anger that Maeve had displayed at having her personal property damaged. Of course, any masterful healer could get rid of the scars, but Aelin wasn't currently being extended that courtesy.
Her thoughts flicked to her six guards who had been ordered away, but were actually stationed around the treeline, watching Cairn work. Making sure that he didn't break any more rules.
There were rules of course. Rules that Cairn had gone through the pleasantries of explaining to her.
Maeve had instructed him not to do anything too permanent. No teeth pulling or limb breaking or extremity amputation. Not too much nerve damage either. The Heir of Brannon still needed to be functional in order to do the queen's bidding.
And he wasn't allowed to touch her stomach or her reproductive system.
Aelin continued to have nightmares about this request- imagining every increasingly horrible scenario. She found herself wondering how broken she'd have to be to allow Maeve to force her to bear child, and then hand him or her over. The thought made her sick to to her stomach.
Her dark thoughts were interrupted as he gouged another line, and a scream tore from her chest.
...
Her session with Cairn ended a few hours later, when she finally passed out from the pain. They only ever ended when she fell unconscious, so the length of time they spent together depended solely on Cairn and whatever twisted inspirational fetish he was feeling that day.
She was never awake for the trip back to her cell, so she always assumed that her guards simply carried her and her chains away.
...
When she regained consciousness, her eyes opened to utter blackness. Her throat clenched and her breath started to come faster. The scent of sulfur burned her nose, and she struggled to calm her rapidly beating heart. She pressed her hand to her chest and focused on her breathing. Deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out.
These are not the salt mines. And this is not Endovier.
Her heart finally calmed as she remembered where she was. She opened her eyes once more, frantically shifting her gaze to find purchase, to find any source of light- something to focus on. But there was nothing to see. She closed her eyelids, knowing that she would drive herself mad if she continued to stare into the black.
When she wasn't with Cairn, she was in here- alone, with only her thoughts and her pain for company.
They only opened the door to escort her to her sessions, or to let the healers in. Her meals, which she received twice a day, depending on her lucidity, were sent in through a small chute that didn't require the use of light. So when she wasn't being subjected to Cairn, she was being subjected to the darkness and her own equally dark memories.
She knew what her aunt was doing. That this was all just a mental game in the form of a testament to her days in Endovier.
But no matter how many times she prepared herself, she couldn't suppress the slight panic that bubbled up whenever she opened her eyes to the black.
When Maeve had told her that she was going to break her, she hadn't just meant physical torture, but mental torture as well. She planned to leash Aelin by wrecking her body, and throwing her into utter darkness until she couldn't handle it any longer- until she found herself begging to be let out.
Aelin knew that it wasn't the pain that would finally bend her to Maeve's will, but the hours spent in the darkness afterwards- the incomprehensible amount of time with just her thoughts and her ruined flesh.
She felt, more than saw, that her body was beginning to waste away- her unspent and suppressed magic becoming more and more agitated by the day.
She believed that her magic was directly related to her emotional inner mind, and every day that she spent in the chains, their iron properties forcing her flames further underneath her skin, was another day that she felt her brain start to roil with the building pressure. She wondered if her fire would be the thing to break her- if one day the pressure would become too much- if it would build and build until her body could no longer contain it- if one day, her power would just combust, taking her mind with it.
Well, at least she had something to look forward to.
Until then, she would spend her days in a continuous routine of torture and darkness- an endless cycle of pain.
At least, that's what she'd thought before now. Today, she was taken to the throne room, not to witness the execution of prisoners, but for the prisoners to witness her. Maeve wanted the world to see that Aelin Galathynius had finally been leashed- that Mala's flame was under her control. And with the hundreds of courtesans present this morning, word would spread fast.
Aelin thought once more of the look on the prisoners' faces. The defiance in their eyes, even as they faced death.
Something was going on in the outskirts of Doranelle. Somewhere, her name was being passed around. Somewhere, dangerous things were being said. And somehow, though she imagined it wasn't very difficult, the Queen was intercepting it. And if today's events were any indication, whatever Maeve was hearing, she was not happy about it.
Aelin sucked in a breath as she became aware of the fierce itching along her back. Her wounds were healing. Because she had been in her fae form yesterday- she assumed it had been yesterday, though she could never be sure- her injuries would repair on their own. There would be no healer.
She was still in her fae form, and after she caught her breath from her almost panic attack, she began breathing through her mouth. The stench of her cell attacked her senses like a physical blow- a combination of the mold and mildew from damp stone and the lone bucket they had provided for her to relieve herself. She cringed as she twisted her body into a sitting position, and her foot brushed against her food tray from her last meal.
An animal in a cage. That's what she'd been reduced to. For not nearly the first time, she cursed her bitch-of-an-aunt, and made yet another mental note to kill her.
She heard approaching footsteps in the hall and scrambled up as the door to her cell creaked opened.
Blinded by the flood of light, she lifted her hand to shield her eyes. Playtime. Her guards escorted her from her cell, and she was surprised when they turned to leave the dungeons- just like the day before. Was her attendance in the throne room going to be a daily event now?
This time they didn't bother with the blindfold. She felt unreasonably smug to learn that all of the details she'd assumed on the way to the throne room were correct.
Just a few minutes outside of the dungeons, Aelin concluded that Maeve was gone.
She felt her absence in the unusually relaxed state of her guards and the small glimpses she caught of the people they passed in the halls. Everyone's shoulders appeared lighter, and their gaits more casual, as if the queen's absence alone made it easier to breath.
Sure enough, when they entered the audience chamber, Maeve's throne was empty. Aelin wondered only briefly what had drawn the queen away. She was probably off somewhere, preaching to the public of her valiant efforts to stop the massacres in the labor camps, and how lucky everyone should feel to have such an amazing monarch on their throne.
Though the stone chair was empty, the rest of the room was not. Just like the day before, hundreds of fae stood in front of the dais, chatting amongst themselves. If they weren't here to attend court, then there were here as witnesses. Aelin's stomach roiled at the thought of watching more executions. Her unspent magic turned in her veins, and her temple began to throb. Gods-damned iron shackles, she thought.
Her guards pulled her to the front of the room, and pushed her down onto the stairs, where she sat like the chained animal she was. Because Maeve was not here, three of her guards remained by her side to hold her chains- Flats, Popcicle, and Tweety. The other three separated, stationing themselves around the room.
Aelin rethought Maeve's reasoning for being absent when she saw that there were fewer guards in the throne room than usual. Including her own six, there were only four more fae males stationed around the perimeter. Three more appeared from the crowd, dragging today's prisoners. That made a total of thirteen fae males- none of them bloodsworn. Whatever Maeve was doing must've required a lot of soldiers for them to be under-staffed like this. Aelin immediately began hoping that whatever she was doing didn't include the pillaging of small farming communities for information on treasonous citizens.
Aelin was horrified to see that the three guards weren't dragging a handful of prisoners, but what appeared to be an entire family of peasants. Farmers from the look of it. In addition to a man and woman, there were four children. The mother held an infant child in her left arm, a small girl of around nine clutching her right hand. Behind her skirts, a little boy's head poked out, his small hand grasping at the fabric of her simple dress. The fourth and eldest child, an adolescent boy only a year or two younger Aelin stood next to their father, the look of death blazing in his eyes. His hand gripped his father's arm, and she knew that he was prepared to fight their way out.
The man he held on to- whose hair was just beginning to show signs of graying and hands were calloused in a way that could only mean years of manual labor- was not. Instead, his face was resigned, his eyes remorseful. He had already accepted his fate.
Two of the guards who had escorted the group into the room stepped forward. One of them made to grab the father's arm, but the eldest boy shouted a string of obscenities and tried to hold him back. Aelin's heart plummeted, the boy's look of defiance and desperation so familiar to her.
The father began pleading with his son, but the boy was unrelenting. Finally, the third guard, who until now had remained at the back, entered the scene, and jerked the boy away. The father was pulled forward, and the boy thrashed against the fae male as his arms were restrained.
Gripping one of the man's arms in each hand, the other two guards led him to the front of the room before throwing him onto his knees. Aelin flinched at the sound of his knees barking against the ground.
The woman's sobs, which up until this point had been silent, turned loud and ratcheting- the tears now streaming down her still-youthful face. The little boy was pressing his face against the back of her legs, and the girl was calling her father's name- confusion written across her delicate features. No doubt her parents had tried to explain these events to her prior, but what nine-year-old would ever be able to comprehend the execution of her father?
Aelin's fisted hands trembled in fury- in white hot rage towards the person who would force a family of children to watch their parent's death.
From behind one of the enormous pillars, another fae male stepped out from the shadows. A single blade shone in his hands as he stalked forward. The executioner. The father, kneeling in front of the dais stiffened, his skin blanching. His wife's sobs became louder, her body convulsing with the impact. Soon after, the infant in her arms was screeching as well.
Aelin's skin heated- the throbbing in her head increasing with each passing moment. She strained against her binds, and felt one of the males behind her tug the chain backward. That bitch. That rutting bitch.
The audience in the room was silent and still, save for a few bodies shifting- either from discomfort, or for a better view.
The executioner was mere feet away, and the restrained son pushed even harder against his captor- letting loose a strain of curses that rivaled even Aelin's. Eventually, the guard shoved the boy to the floor, grinding his face into the stone. He continued to jerk a few more times, and the guard pulled his arm back, twisting it until the boy stopped moving. His bent arm looked on the verge of snapping.
The wife and baby continued to wail, their miserable cries echoing across the tall ceilings. The crowd remained absolutely silent- stoic even.
Aelin continued to shake with blinding anger, her fire burning throughout her veins. The executioner raised his blade, and the son let out a shout, the father closing his eyes.
Something snapped inside Aelin. She frantically threw herself, quickly delving down into her well and propelling herself forward. The heat under her skin intensified, shooting outward, and before any of the guards holding her chains could react, Aelin exploded, golden flames erupting from her body.
She heard the males behind her cry out, but it was quickly overshadowed by the panicked screaming of courtesans. By the time anyone thought to draw a weapon, or flee the audience chamber, she was already down the dais and across the room. The executioner had stopped his swing when Aelin exploded, and she immediately shot out her hand- the flames launching from her body and enveloping him in glorious heat. She watched the white of his eyes as he dropped to the ground.
The two guards holding the prisoner dropped his arms, unsheathing their own blades and running forward. Aelin threw up a wall of flames, halting their advance as she turned to face the three males rushing from behind. She dodged one of their swipes, and turned just in time to narrowly avoid the blade of another. She launched herself at the second attacker, grabbing his swinging arm and using its momentum to pull him to the ground. She swiped one of the daggers at his hip and shot up, swiping the blade across the face of another male. One down.
She ducked the swipe of the returning male, and drug the blade across the back of his calf on the way down, slicing his tendon. He dropped, and she used a round-house kick to knock him down further. He didn't move. That made two.
She turned back to the dais, where she noticed the guards who had been holding her irons. All three were sprawled on the stone. Two of them gasping and cradling limbs as their severe burns began the process of healing. She couldn't see any improvement in the seconds that she watched them, and the other wasn't moving at all, so she counted it as three more.
An arrow shot down from above, and she twisted, but not fast enough. It slammed into her shoulder, and she cursed, sending a large blast of fire up into the balconies. The archer screamed and dropped. Aelin yanked out the arrow, but the distraction cost her, and a moment later, she felt more searing pain as a sword sliced against her forearm. She spun around, the arrow in her hand outstretched, and smiled when it met muscle.
Her new attacker shouted, staggering back, and Aelin launched herself on top of him, gouging the arrow head into the side of his neck. He went down. She landed smoothly, and she couldn't help but let loose a delirious laugh. Even with her body and spirit severely weakened, all of her years of training with Arobynn, and the months she spent with Rowan came rushing back. She was in her element, and her breath had just begun the turn shallow, when another guard attacked.
She dispatched him with prowess, and after she watched him drop, her gaze flicked over to the prisoner. The eldest son had been released and was helping his father up off the ground. They met eyes, and she gave the boy a small nod. He returned the gesture, and she dropped to the floor, avoiding another attack. She snatched the sword out of one of the unconscious warrior's hands, and used it strike her attacker across the back, severing his spinal cord. When she looked back, the boy and his entire family were gone, lost among the screaming crowd of courtesans that surged toward the doors.
She was lucky that none of the fae males present were blood sworn, or possessed magic. She was even luckier to be in her fae form, because she wouldn't have gotten past the first guard is she were human.
Aelin turned away from the dais, and felt a small surge of panic when her power began to waver. Now that she'd used some of it, and exhausted part of her body, the iron in the chains was regaining control- her fire no longer threatening to explode from her veins.
She dropped her wall of fire previously blocking the rest of the room, and was met with the final five- no, four males. The thirteenth was missing, but Aelin didn't have time to dwell, as the others began to circle. The one farthest to the right was the first to launch himself. She dodged two of his swings, immediately twisting to avoid the sword of another.
Dropping to the ground, she swiped the feet out from underneath one of them, and rolled to the side as another charged her. As she jumped up, she grabbed ahold of his arm, and twisted it while forcing it downward and into the chest of the male she had just sent to the ground. The warriors landed on top of each other, and before she could go after the guard on the top, she was yanked backwards, hopping a few times to keep from falling to the ground.
She tried to turn around, but she was jerked even harder, her hands jumping to the collar around her neck. Her knees hit the ground, and she lifted her head to find the thirteenth guard gripping her chains. He shouted to the two males behind her, and one of them had just gripped her left arm, when she swung the right forward, gripped the taut chain that attached to her neck, and yanked it towards her.
The thirteenth guard leaned forward, tightening his pull against her neck and trying to regain his hold on the iron. She quickly let go, and the strength of his heaving sent him stumbling backwards. She rolled to the side, jerking the chain from his grip, and immediately swung it behind her in a horizontal arc.
She turned to see the momentum of the chain coil itself around the neck of one of the guards- the twin to her own collar. She wrenched the irons downward, and his hands were too busy clawing at his throat to catch his fall. He fell to the floor, his head bouncing off the ground, knocking him unconscious.
She realized her mistake when she tried to stand, and found that she was still restrained by the end of her chain which remained twisted around the fallen male. She scampered across the ground, all of her attention focused on getting to the end of the chain.
That was her second mistake. Her hand was a hairsbreadth away from the fallen male, when searing pain sliced into the back of her thigh. She faltered, and turned just in time to see the whites of Cairn's wild eyes as he pounced on her.
The force of his weight knocked the breath from her chest as they slammed into the floor. The knife he had thrown into the back of her leg dug in further, and she gasped as he dug his knees into her legs, his arms holding her wrists flat against the stone on either side of her head.
His grin was feral, and pure insanity sparked in his blue eyes as he took in the sight of her. She flicked her gaze behind him, where a small army of soldiers had gathered around. Apparently the frantic crowd of screaming people rushing out the doors had drawn some attention to the throne room.
Cairn's hand gripped her chin and forced her eyes back to his face. He tsked softly, as if scolding a small child. She bucked her body underneath his weight, but he removed the hand holding her chin and slammed her left leg flat to the ground, the dagger tearing through even more flesh. Aelin screamed, unable to hold it back.
He continued to analyze her, his weight cutting off the circulation to her limbs. He frowned slightly, though his eyes still glinted with amusement.
"What a mess you've made," he spoke softly, lifting his hand to caress a knife down the side of her face.
Frowning, he tsked again, and his blade stilled. "I hate to ruin such a pretty face."
She stiffened as he applied enough pressure to the dagger to draw blood at the base of her temple. He leaned forward, and soft as a lover's embrace whispered into her ear, "What do you say we skip today's normal activities and meet in my room for a different kind of fun...?"
Her back arched involuntarily from the chilling experience of air being blown into your ear. And before she could think otherwise, Aelin spat in his face, using his moment of distraction to swing forward the arm he wasn't holding down, and plunge a dagger into his right eye. He roared, reeling backwards, and she just had time to twist the hilt of the blade further, tearing through more of the flesh of his eye-socket, before he gripped her by her hair, and slammed her head into the ground.
Her head bounced, suddenly spinning, and her vision began darkening- pressing inward as a loud ringing filled her eardrums. She still hadn't oriented herself when Cairn yanked the dagger out of his eye and slammed it into the meat of her left arm; anchoring it to the ground, as he took her other arm in his hands, and broke her wrist in two, crushing the bones of her hand immediately afterward. An agonized scream tore from her throat.
Aelin thought she heard someone shout Cairn's name in warning, but the warrior took no notice. He yanked the dagger out of her arm, and raised it, prepared to inflict more serious damage, when he was yanked off of her.
Her chest constricted, quickly filling with air from the sudden release of the pressure, and she fought through a series of gasping and coughs, trying to ease the burning in her lungs.
There was more shouting, the ringing in her ears just starting to fade away. Her breath was almost under control, and in her mind, she knew that she was supposed to be doing something... Something. It may have included moving her body and leaving the room, but just a slight twist of her neck sent dizziness crashing into her.
Searing pain sliced through her body. Her left leg and arm felt as if they were on fire, and her stomach rolled with nausea. Her fingers brushed against a pool of warm liquid on the stone, and Aelin tried to lift her head to assess the damage.
Pain exploded in her skull, and she let out a gasp as she clenched her eyes shut, waiting for her vision to stop swimming. It must not have worked, because when she reopened her eyes, she was seeing double.
Cairn was still shouting at her, but a large group of soldiers surrounded him, yanking the thrashing fae male backwards mere inches at a time.
Her stomach jumped up her throat, and she frantically twisted her body to the side, where she vomited onto the floor. Immediately afterwards, she felt a series of hands lift her heaving body into the air.
She decided she didn't care anymore, and let her body hang limp as they carried her. She kept her eyes clenched shut for most of the trip, focusing on keeping her stomach at bay. The few times she did open her eyes, her head spun terribly, and she found herself wondering how Rowan could stand to fly at such great heights without losing consciousness.
Maybe it was different when you were a bird.
It seemed like only seconds later when they entered her cell. Immediately, Aelin wanted to beg them not to leave- to keep the door open so she could see. But she didn't have to. Aelin was just lucid enough to be surprised by the presence of a small cot in the middle of her stone room.
The fae males carrying her placed her on top, where she was finally able to look at something other than the ceiling. She didn't know if it was confusion from the concussive hit to her head, or reality, but she didn't recognize any of the soldiers standing in the room.
Once again, she tried to lift her head, but the overwhelming pressure and searing pain became too much. Her vision went dark, and she stopped seeing.
...
When Aelin awoke, the pain behind her eyes was gone, and her brain only felt a little foggy. She didn't know if her vision was corrected because she was back in complete darkness, but when she made to sit up, she wasn't overcome with dizziness, so she took it as a good sign.
She took a few deep breaths and pushed away from the wall she was laying against. She leaned across the floor of the stone room, feeling for a small cot. Nothing. Aelin sank back on her heels, the iron chains breaking the silence, and realized that there was no longer a gouging pain in the back of her thigh.
Her thoughts jumped to her right wrist and hand, which she grabbed in her left, but the bones were intact- healed. She stood up slowly and went through the physical evaluation of moving every part of her body, mentally checking for symptoms or signs of pain. Again, nothing. She felt perfectly fine- better even.
A healer must've been sent to repair her limbs. Even though she was in her fae form, her mediocre healing abilities were not quite adept for a series of shattered bones. Her breath caught, and her hand jumped to her back, sliding across her shoulder blades. She let out an involuntary sigh of relief. Her scars were still there. Apparently aesthetic surgery hadn't been on the healer's checklist.
She turned her attention to her chains- her new chains. She couldn't physically see them in the dark, but they felt heavier. Either there were more of them, or they were made from a stronger compound.
Aelin was so focused on her own body that she didn't hear the approaching footsteps. Her cell door swung open, the sound taking her by surprise. She had been standing with her back turned to the door, and the light crawled across the floor, wrapping around her body.
She quickly turned, and eight new guards stood just outside the doorway. Apparently her other six had been demoted. One of them stalked into the room and gripped her by her forearm, practically yanking her out the door.
She opened her mouth to protest, but the same guard yanked her further out the door and directly into his chest. He leaned down into her ear, his breath cold as ice. "If you value the ability to speak at all, you will hold your tongue," he hissed. "Her Majesty's wishes don't depend on the presence of your vocal cords."
She scowled at the fae male, but closed her lips. The rest of the males in the hallway grabbed ahold of her numerous chains and they departed, this time with three on the sides, rather than the previous two.
Aelin didn't bother to ask their names, and the absence of taunting one-sided dialogue made the invention of them far less entertaining. They began walking down the corridor. Her gaze jumped from male to male, each straighter-backed and face more stone-like than the last.
Aelin sighed to herself. She was missing Tweety already. For the third day in a row, assuming she hadn't been unconscious for longer than one, they bypassed Cairn's playroom.
Only this time, they didn't turn to leave the dungeons, but continued forward, entering an entirely new section of stone cells. Aelin began steeling herself, slipping into the calm that she entered before her sessions with Cairn. No doubt, he had invented a new elaborate game for the two of them to play.
She felt Maeve's presence before they turned the last corner. They entered a large room, the ceilings reaching almost as high as the castle above, but without the decorative fixtures and extravagant pillars. The walls were still made from the stone of the dungeons, but the space was huge and open- like some kind of underground throne-room.
And standing in the middle of the dark audience chamber was the queen herself. She was surrounded by twelve of her fae soldiers, all of them bloodsworn. The remnants of Rowan's cadre was there as well- even Fenrys stood in the back, his face stoic as she and her guards entered the room.
Her irons were pulled taut, yanking her to a sudden stop. Immediately, she scanned the room for Cairn, but he wasn't there. Aelin turned her eyes to Maeve, who waited patiently in the center of the room- her power vibrating off the stone walls. The hold on Aelin's chains was loosened, and she was shoved to the ground, her knees barking in protest.
Aelin looked back up at the Queen who appeared taller now that she was on the ground. Maeve's lips tilted slightly. "Someone," she purred softly, "has some severe separation anxiety...
"I leave you alone for two minutes, and you decide to go on a suicidal rampage- murdering two of my guards, severely injuring another eleven, and temporarily incapacitating my most talented weapon's master." Maeve clicked her tongue.
Aelin glared, suppressing a snort. Weapon's master. It must have been an iron dagger she plunged into Cairn's eye for it to take more than a day to heal. Aelin hoped that his eye was irrecoverable, but with Maeve's access to the land's most experienced healers, she seriously doubted it.
Maeve cocked her head, her dark hair falling off her shoulder. "I obviously can't leave you here alone." Her voice was sickeningly sweet.
"So what..." she lifted her hand in a small sweep. A silent command. "- am I to do with you?" Two of the guards stepped forward, carrying out whatever order she had issued. More chains. Aelin stiffened, and her guards tightened their grips. The two guards approached, and Aelin was wrenched to her feet.
They began attaching the extra shackles, the weight of iron multiplying by the second. The finishing piece wasa mask- the same one from the beach where she'd allowed them to take her. By the time they had finished, she was, once again, wrapped head to toe in iron.
The only part of her body not completely restricted of movement was her legs. But even then, the fetters clamped around her ankles and the weight of the metal made it difficult to walk.
The two guards who had approached with the chains stalked back to their places. Aelin swayed from the burden, and she felt her guards resume their places by her side, their hold on her arms stabilizing her body.
With the mask on, her vision was limited, and her peripheral sight nonexistent. But her view of Maeve was unobstructed, and she saw the feline grin that spread across her face clearly.
"I have decided," she continued. "-that rather than risk you damaging more of my property in my absence," The Queen paused, and the males surrounding her began to shift to the sides of the room. "- that you will be joining us on our trip."
Before Aelin had time to wonder what she meant, enough of the guards had moved apart, that the back wall of the stone room was now visible. Horror crumpled her, and it took every ounce of her willpower not to drop to her knees.
Across the throne room, no more than 100 feet away, and painted on the stone wall were a series of wyrdmarks. A portal.
They were the same wyrdmarks she had used to open the portal the first day she'd arrived. And they bore smudges identical to the ones she had created while fighting. Aelin's chest constricted, and her mouth went dry.
Maeve had copied her wyrdmarks and recreated the portal in which Aelin had thrown the second wyrdkey. Maeve's smile widened as Aelin realized why they were all there- why she had been dressed in an excess number of chains.
They were going to travel through it. "Ahh," Maeve purred. "-so this won't need much explanation."
Devastation crashed into Aelin. All these weeks of suffering under Cairn's blade and pressing against the darkness, one of her only comforts had been Maeve's inaccessibility to the keys. And now... now her own foolishness had led Maeve right to them. How could she have lacked the foresight to not destroy the portal after she had thrown in the keys? She should have burnt them off the wall- one last surge of flame, and this all would have been over. Now, Maeve would use her own powers to reopen the portal. And soon, she would have control over both Aelin and the keys.
Maeve's wicked grin widened even further as she turned away and walked towards the dormant wyrdmarks. "You should be happy to know," the Queen began. "-that your little stunt with the wyrdkeys upon your arrival has not been in utter vain."
She slowed as she reached the stone wall. "I've already sent delegates through to inspect the other side, where they discovered a small kingdom of sorts- 'The Spring Court,' they call it. The people seem quite civilized and have agreed to negotiate business with us, as well as provide lodging."
She turned her head over her shoulder, meeting eyes with Aelin. "That, is where we are going today. And I've decided to bring you along with us."
Maeve turned back to the wall and immediately began reciting the incantation. Aelin's knees quivered, and she stopped hearing- stopped seeing. She vaguely registered a wave of magic as the portal formed, and the increasing strength of Maeve's chanting. But Aelin herself wasn't present. Something had bent inside of her, and she was immediately thrown back to that day at the beach- before she had been taken.
If Aelin couldn't find a way to stop Maeve from finding the keys- then it would all be for nothing. Everything she had planned- the people she had lied to and betrayed with her sacrifice- it would all become meaningless. She would not- could not, let this happen.
Aelin was shocked out of her reverie when one of the males shoved her from behind. Five of her guards had left the room, and now she was only held by three. They pushed her forward, across the length of the room, to where the rest of the males in the space had gathered. The warriors all stood tensed- ready to jump into the unknown.
The portal was alive. It glowed like the golden light of the sun. However, unlike the previous portal she had made in that cell, this portal was filled with the lush greens and radiant colors of an obviously thriving botanical garden. The scent from the plants reached through from the other side. It had a sweet kind of natural freshness, often artificially recreated in perfumes, but that could only be achieved from actual flowers.
Aelin wondered if the location of the destination on the other side portal depended on their location on this side of the portal as well. It would explain why this one did not lead directly to the room in which she had sent the key.
There was a final pulse of light, and Maeve finished her incantations. Two of the guards stalked forward and immediately walked through, followed by Maeve and her three immediate escorts.
Apparently, everyone was assigned to pairs, because immediately following, another two passed through as well.
Next, Aelin and her guards began moving forward. As she approached the portal, her gaze met with Fenrys's, who had yet to go through. His eyes were slightly wider than usual, his jaw clenching, and he raised his eyebrows briefly, in acknowledgement of her attention. So he was having similar thoughts- that this was a very, very bad situation.
She broke his gaze when they were just a few steps away from the passage. From here, Aelin could see the golden light emanating from the wyrdmarks more clearly, and how the doorway thrummed with their traitorous power.
The three males dragging her by her chain-covered arms showed no sign of hesitation; nonetheless, Aelin made sure to take a deep breath before crossing the threshold and plunging into the depths of the colorful portal.
