Chained, page 6
I looked at my feet, rolling my toe over a knot in the wood floor as I waited for his response.
He took a step toward me, lifting my chin with his finger. I blinked rapidly to hide the tears forming in my eyes as his emerald pools drank me in with a glint of something I couldn’t place. The touch was so gentle, so tender, so unlike any touch I’d received before. It felt foreign, but I wanted to lean into the comforting touch he offered.
But could I trust him? Could I trust any male?
“Why would we expect you to know anything, given that you spent the last twenty-one years of your life in chains? What happened to you was awful, Izidora, and I’m certain I don’t know the full extent of it. I’m here when you’re ready to share. But for now, go easy on yourself, yeah?”
His words struck a chord deep in my soul, one that craved validation and acceptance. I closed my eyes, willing the tears not to fall. “I needed to hear that,” I admitted, my voice quavering.
“If you need anything else, I’ll be downstairs or next door. Remember your hat if you do leave the room,” he reminded me.
His finger left my skin, though the spot he’d touched still burned long after. The door clicked shut softly behind him, and his heavy step faded down the hall.
The moment I was certain he was not returning, I stripped out of my dusty traveling clothes and sank into the deep tub. The warm water was almost as heavenly as the apple pie. My relieved sigh echoed around the small space as the warmth seeped into my weary bones. Only once the water chilled did I begin to move. Grabbing a lavender-scented bar from a ledge near the tub, I scrubbed every inch of my hair and skin and watched layers of grime float away until I was clean.
Once I’d dried off and squeezed as much water out of my long chestnut hair as I could, I crawled into the smallest bed, pushed against a wall, and piled extra blankets around me to create a cocoon. Back against the wall, my lids began drooping as the lavender and warm water took their effects. My exhaustion was so deep that I did not hear Kazimir or Cazius return to our room, despite my last conscious thoughts warning me to stay awake.
6
My father and I spoke deep into the night about our route to Vaenor, Izidora, and what may await us upon our arrival at Este Castle. Cutthroat nobles would try to exploit her innocence without hesitation in order to increase their station or favor with King Zalan. She needed instruction, guidance, and protection if she were to survive court intrigue. We only had seven short weeks to prepare her for what was to come.
The rhythmic sway of Fek’s back while we rode lulled me into a favorite daydream, one where we returned triumphant to Vaenor, Izidora in tow, and King Zalan promptly declared we were to marry. She had fallen in love with me on our return journey and was thrilled with her father’s proposition. Wine flowed freely as the whole Night Realm celebrated our engagement and shortly thereafter, our wedding.
My reverie was broken by a slight shake of the saddle in front of me. Izidora’s laugh was light and airy, filling her whole body as she tipped her head toward the sky, releasing the most beautiful sound I had ever heard into the woods around us. I wanted to hear more of it, more of her.
The day’s entertainment was stories of misadventures, narrated by an animated and dramatic Kirigin.
“... and then Zekari thought it would be a good idea to switch back to confuse the poor Lady even more!”
The twins used to have a game of bait and switch, seeing if those seated beside them at formal gatherings would notice if they switched places. As Knights, they were not seated among the High Houses, but the unfortunate Fae seated around them were nonetheless infuriated when they realized they had been duped.
As the laughter died down, I threw a question to the group, hoping to generate some ideas. “Navigating the politics of the Night Realm is tricky for anyone who grew up around it, let alone someone who did not. What are the most important things Izidora needs to know before we reach Este Castle?”
Endre answered first. “Don’t show weakness. The castle is full of predators waiting to take you down or blackmail you.”
Kriztof chimed in, “Know who can take a joke and who will want you beheaded for one.” That spurred a chuckle from the group.
“She needs to know how to fight, and fight fucking well,” Vadim declared.
“And she needs to wield her magic, whatever that turns out to be. The people won’t respect a weak-magicked Fae on the throne,” Endre added.
“Good point,” I agreed. “Keep thinking. We have about seven weeks before we reach Vaenor.”
I called for a rest stop. We had a long road ahead of us and I wasn’t in a rush to reach our destination. Leading Fek to the stream along the road, I let him drink and graze among our other mounts while I refilled my waterskin. The crisp liquid refreshed me as I wandered through the autumn forest, a dusting of fallen leaves crunching beneath my boots. Izidora approached me as I was admiring a particularly beautiful oak tree.
“I want to learn all of that and more. I want to be strong. I don’t ever want to be taken advantage of again.” Her aquamarine eyes were set with grim determination. Though she still did not trust us, she spoke more often, laughed more freely, and slowly relaxed more with each passing hour. Her spirit remained unbroken, despite the horrors she had alluded to enduring in captivity. She was a fighter, and I knew she would excel at all of this and more. If being chained and abused hadn’t fractured her into a million pieces, nothing ever would.
I turned to look at her, a solemn promise filling my soul. “We will make you the fiercest warrior this kingdom has ever known.”
An impish grin stretched from ear to ear, a glimmer of savagery breaking through the walls she’d built. Her teeth flashed, and for a moment I saw the wildcat inside that had helped her survive. She didn’t need to be coddled – it was time for her to claw her way out of the darkness. “You won’t be riding with me anymore. It’s time you learned to ride by yourself.”
Her eyes sparkled with excitement. I wanted to keep the momentum going, to keep her spirit soaring while she flew high above her pain. Grasping Izidora’s hand, I directed us to the glen where the horses grazed. Mistik, our pack horse, picked her head up as we approached, as if she sensed her new rider. Shuffling bags around until weight was evenly distributed across all our mounts, I cinched Mistik’s saddle.
Once I finished, I patted her dapple gray hide and instructed, “You take care of your new rider, okay? There will be plenty of apples for you later if you do.” An excited nicker rumbled from the mare, and I chuckled to myself. Izidora and Mistik would get along just fine.
Izidora stood, arms crossed, as I worked. When I motioned her over, she approached the mare, offering a sugar cube and gently rubbing her nose. Once they were acquainted, I demonstrated how to mount a horse. “You might not be able to reach the stirrups comfortably yet, so I will give you a boost this time. But eventually you will learn how to get up on your own.”
A jerk of her head and the thin line of her lips told me she was ready.
Lacing my fingers together and turning my palms up, I created a cup for her boot. She braced an arm on my shoulder as I heaved her upward, and she swung her other leg over Mistik’s back. With a slightly awkward landing, she was in the saddle. She shuffled back and forth until she was comfortably seated, then I shortened the stirrups to fit her petite stature.
“Now, hold the reins in both hands. Mistik will most likely follow along, but you need to know how to direct her where you want to go. Pull to the left for her to go left. Pull to the right for her to go right. Pull back with both hands to break. Gently push your heels into her sides to go forward. Make sense?” I asked.
“Got it.” The grin that pulled at her pink lips was devastating, and coupled with the fierce tenacity of her heart, I knew every previous fantasy of her was nothing compared to the real female in front of me.
The rest of the Nighthounds had gathered and mounted their steeds, so I patted Mistik one last time before mounting Fek and leading us back to the red dirt road. Izidora confidently guided Mistik forward onto the road, angling her so she could ride alongside me once we were underway.
“I’m doing it!” she exclaimed. A whooping cheer of deep voices celebrated alongside her.
My father chuckled, “Well done. Now let’s see if you can stay on for a few hours.”
7
Riding by myself was harder than I anticipated. Walking was fine – I’d done that on Fek for three days. Mistik plodded along diligently, not needing much input from me as we traveled in a group. My legs already trembled from days of riding, but keeping my feet tucked into the stirrups proved to be yet another challenge for my weakened muscles.
Once I could steer Mistik and keep my feet in the stirrups, we trotted. The jarring landing on my ass when I missed a beat bruised it deeper, and I let out a stream of curses each time my tailbone smacked against the firm leather saddle.
But I did not give up, determined to find the right rhythm and sync with the horse beneath me. The sooner I mastered this, the sooner I had a means of escape. Princess or no, being trapped against my will again was something I had no interest in, and I wanted the skills to flee if necessary.
Viktor coached me through trotting while the others watched with barely contained laughter. “Tomorrow we will try cantering,” he said as we stopped for the day.
“We’re laughing with you, not at you,” Kriztof teased at one point.
They all cheered once I trotted without bouncing around like a ball let loose by a small child. A moment of unbridled joy slipped past my barrier, and instead of discouraging and demeaning me, they shared in my excitement and welcomed my accomplishment. It felt like they truly wanted me to succeed. A hint of trust bloomed within my heart, and I cautiously hoped I was truly free of my chains.
A large copse of trees hid us from the worn dirt road. As I pushed up on my stirrups, preparing to dismount, my legs began wobbling dangerously, threatening to pitch me off my horse. I managed to lay my body across Mistik’s back and then slid slowly to the ground, using my arms to lower myself onto shaky feet. Even my arms screamed from gripping the reins and steering the mare along the path. My whole body shook as I walked, and I felt like a newborn deer taking its first steps. I led Mistik to Endre, who tended the other mounts, and handed him the reins.
Vadim called out to me as I turned away from Endre. “I promised to show you how to make a fire at our next camp, and that time has come. Bring some of those dried branches under your feet over here.”
I bent to pick up an armful of twigs and pine needles, legs protesting on the way down and on the way up. With a groan, I carried my bundle to where Vadim had cleared a spot in the earth. “Now, go find some large rocks. We need to make a circle around the fire to protect the rest of the wood.”
Was he trying to punish me for something? I could barely feel my legs, and each wobbly step threatened to throw me to the ground, never to rise again. Somewhere between a waddle and a walk, I hunted the surrounding area until my arms were filled with lumpy rocks. When I returned to Vadim, a few large logs had been split and shaped into a circular tent.
“Put the rocks in a circle here.” He motioned around the outer edge of his pile. One by one, I arranged them in a circle, then Vadim adjusted a few until they were in perfect alignment. “Now, take the brush you gathered earlier and stuff it under here.” He pointed to the log tent and I did as instructed.
“Now what?” I asked, hoping he wouldn’t send me on another mission to find supplies that could be anywhere in the forest.
“Now, we make fire.” He rubbed his hands together with a mischievous glint in his evergreen eyes.
“Don’t be such a pyromaniac,” called Kriztof from where he and Viktor struck tent poles into the ground.
“Normally I would use magic to light the fire, but since you haven’t tapped into your magic yet I will show you another way.” He drew a dagger from his boot, then picked up one of the brown-gray rocks I’d found. “You need a dagger and a rock that looks like this. Then you place them near the dried brush and strike.” He demonstrated and sparks flew between the rock and dagger, dried brush catching and smoking as the sparks rained over them.
He offered the dagger and rock to me. “Your turn.”
I gripped the dagger, pointing it toward the ground while holding the rock in my other hand. My first strike yielded no sparks. Frowning, I tried again. This time a little orange spark flew between the two, my heart leaping in time with the ember. My subsequent strikes were no better, and eventually Vadim grabbed the hand I used to hold the rock and changed the angle. His unexpected touch caused me to jerk my hand back and drop the rock. Yet he remained patient, not even acknowledging my reaction as I retrieved it. This time, he turned my wrist with light fingers, not lingering on my skin.
“Try it again,” he encouraged.
I struck and, to my surprise, a shower of sparks dusted the dry brush, fire erupting across them.
“Bend down close and blow softly to stoke the fire. You don’t want to blow so hard that the fire goes out, though.”
I crouched, blowing slowly through pursed lips. The fire leaped, and more of the brush caught. Dusting my hands off, I sat back on my heels, grinning at my victory.
“Well done!” exclaimed Vadim.
A circle of tents surrounded us by the time the main logs caught fire. Blades of sunlight streamed through the trees, setting the wood aglow with soft light. I reclined against a downed log beside the fire, my legs protesting any further movement until they had time to rest. Savoring the crisp and earthy air, I deeply inhaled the scents of the surrounding forest. I always longed for adventure far away from the cave, to discover the world beyond hard stone walls and darkness. No matter what I was or was not told, a small spark hidden deep in my mind knew that life had always waited just out of reach.
I was still unsure of my place in this group, in this world outside the cave. I was still wary of trusting these males completely. But I had to admit they were growing on me. Not once had I truly feared for my life since they had rescued me. None of them had laid a hand on me in anger. None had screamed at me, demeaned me, told me I was worthless, useless, or only good as a whore. None had forced themselves on me. I even shared a room with Kazimir and Cazius without incident. They were kind, respectful, helpful, and sincere. All foreign concepts, things I had never truly experienced before.
Was this what normal Fae were like?
Then there was Kazimir.
Of all the Nighthounds, he showed the most interest in me. Always watching. Always waiting. Always the first to help. Respectful, and yet I sensed there was something more behind his attention. His steady presence was almost comforting and his smoky wood and amber scent familiar. I had been glad to ride on my own, but a small part of me missed the warmth of his large frame at my back, encircling me in a wall of safety.
I closed my eyes, tuning into the sounds of the autumn wood around me. Birds chirped and sang to one another, echoing their songs back and forth among the treetops. A small stream trickled nearby, water flowing over rock. A soft breeze rustled leaves and scraped bare branches against one another.
A deep breath filled my lungs with crackling fire, musky horse, and a hint of amber. I remained like that for a while, grounding myself through my senses. When I opened my eyes, I found others dozing in the cozy midafternoon sun.
The sun was glorious. After years in the dark, I never imagined the stunning hues that changed throughout the day, or the touch of warmth across my pale skin. It was already pinkening my hands, face, and chest as I basked in its glory.
Kazimir was awake, watching the trees around us. When he saw me stir, he motioned for me to approach. I stood, stretching my arms and stiff legs. “I thought I could teach you to tap into your magic,” he said. “Let’s go further out into this clearing.”
Checking over my shoulder to make sure someone saw us leave, I followed him, butterflies filling my stomach as we left the rest of the group behind. The thought of unlocking the power that lay slumbering within me was exhilarating.
Once we were out of earshot, Kazimir spun to face me. “First, you must learn to control your breath. Magic responds to emotion, and control over magic starts with control over your emotions,” he began, sitting cross-legged among the colorful leaves coating the forest floor.
I settled myself in front of him, adopting a similar posture, hands on my knees, spine tall, gaze soft.
“Follow my voice as we go through the exercise. Inhale for four counts, hold, then exhale for four counts, hold, then repeat. We’re going to do this ten times. Any questions?”
“I got it,” I replied, allowing my eyes to close softly.
“Inhale, one… two… three… four… hold… exhale, four… three… two… one… hold. Inhale…” he repeated ten times, and I settled into the steady rhythm, all thoughts and worries drifting from my mind as it melded with my body.
“Sigh out all the air left in your lungs…”
I let every last bit of air go.
“Tune into your body, and search for the source of your magic. Night Fae magic is like shimmering moonlight, a glittering silver thread that winds through your body. You should feel it in the center of your chest.”
Turning my gaze inward, I scanned my body for the shimmering light Kazimir described. When I found the source of my magic, my brows pulled together in a frown. A spear of crystal wrapped in ribbons of glittering silver and bathed in white flame rested in the center of my chest.
Something must have been broken inside me.
My eyes burned at the thought. I wanted to be powerful – with both magic and strength. What if this difference prevented me from using magic? Were the guards right, was I truly worthless and useless?
Kazimir watched me, his eyes like daggers slicing my skin as he waited. With a sigh, I opened my eyes.
