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Aegonar nodded. “The original is believed to be over two thousand years old. The first translation was done by a human queen, and what you read is the second translation, based on her text.”
She stared at him. “You’ve been basing your actions—my torture—on a game of ancient telephone?!” She felt a wave of anger wash over her. She had been tortured, and used based on the interpretations of a text that could be entirely incorrect.
Aegonar and Vaelor exchanged glances. Then the Crimson heir finally answered her. “Anthea, believe us when we say it, we did what we thought was right, based on the information that we had.”
“Well, your information could very well be wrong.”
“No.” Vaelor’s voice reverberated through the room. He walked over to a window, gazing out over the lush courtyard below. “We did not decide on it lightly.” He turned back to face her, his face serious. “That is why you were with the Crimson court for so long before we brought you here. There are factors that confirmed the prophecy’s validity for us.”
“Such as?”
“Firstly,” Aegonar began, crossing his arms over his chest, “your origin. You are from another world, and you fell into ours. You appeared in the middle of the night in Endreth’s bed. The line about a mysterious being cradled in the arms of a strange—it makes sense. It fits. Your immunity to magic, it aligns with the prophecy as well. You are part of this, Anthea. You are integral to it.”
“But that could just be a coincidence,” she argued. She didn’t want to believe what they were saying. The idea of being some cosmic pawn in a grand scheme was too terrifying.
“There are too many coincidences, too many alignments. You, whether you like it or not, are part of this prophecy, part of our world now. And we need to prepare for what is coming, with or without your willingness.” Vaelor gestured to her general direction. Anthea’s heart hammered in her chest as her eyes flicked from Aegonar to Vaelor. Her hands were clenched into fists, her knuckles white as if holding back the tempestuous rage that threatened to consume her.
“So, this is it?!” she spat. “I was tortured, tested, broken, all for your?—”
“The fact you were human surprised us,” Aegonar cut her off, running a hand through his red hair. “Especially considering the current situation in Isluma. We had to tread carefully with you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Anthea was on edge, her eyes darting between the two royals.
Aegonar stepped forward, holding his hands up in a calming gesture. “We simply needed to understand where you stood, where your loyalties laid. And quite frankly, from the moment you stepped into our world, it has been abundantly clear you have been playing your own game.”
“Playing a game? My only goal has been to survive and find a way home. Can you blame me?”
Aegonar inhaled deeply. “And that is exactly why we realized it would be harder to . . . to guide you on the right path. It was clear from the start you wouldn’t just accept what was told. When you began weaving tales about Endreth to Alyra?—”
“Really? That’s your excuse? And you thought, what? It’s best to take a page from a manual on disciplining slaves?” She paused, taking a shaky breath. “You thought that . . . that a touch of torture would bend me to your will? Make me more . . . compliant? That pain and fear would make me want to help you?”
“We had a unique situation on our hands, and a myriad of opinions on how best to address it. And yes, time was never on our side. It still isn’t.” Vaelor’s voice held an edge, a taut urgency. “Endreth believed a softer touch, a kinder approach would work with you. But it became evident, quite quickly, that his personal feelings were entangled. It was clear he couldn’t be objective. He still cannot. We cannot risk the prophecy, our entire realm’s future, on emotions,” Vaelor continued. “We made the decision to bring you here to the Nephrite court.”
“This has been the plan all along, hasn’t it?” Anthea retorted bitterly. “Everyone gets a turn at trying to manage the human. You are all monstrous beings! You hurt and deceive for your own ends. And for what? Some prophecy that might not even be true?!”
“The prophecy is true. Your part in it is true. We would prefer your willing participation, but if need be, we will make you.” The threatening note in Vaelor’s voice sent a chill down her spine. He was a predator asserting his dominance, a ruler unyielding in his authority. But his declaration only fanned the flames kindling inside. The new room, the perceived freedoms, all lies—nothing had changed—they still planned to use her as they saw fit.
A harsh, bitter laugh escaped her lips. Anthea looked back at Eldrion, who had taken his silent guard in front of the doors, the supposed protector who had kept her from ending her misery. “Of course, you couldn’t let me fall to my death,” she sneered. “You’re terrified, aren’t you? Afraid of what will happen if your precious prophecy fails. Don’t think you can watch over me forever. One day you’ll slip. And when that day comes, I’ll be ready.”
“I would chain you to me if you continue this path.” Eldrion’s words, a stark promise, hung in the air, a startling reminder of the lengths they were willing to go to for their goals. An all-too-familiar feeling washed over her, a nauseating blend of powerlessness and anger.
“How dare you!” Anthea seethed, her voice raw. “All of you . . . treating me like some . . . object, to be used and discarded as you please!”
The grand doors to the study creaked open, drawing their attention to the lean figure of Elodir. His keen eyes scanned the room, taking in the scene. An insufferable smirk graced his lips as he sauntered further into the room. “Do you ever not cause a stir, Anthea?” he asked. “It seems every room you enter becomes a battlefield.”
“Maybe if you all stopped trying to control and manipulate me, things would be a bit calmer!” she shot back.
Elodir’s smirk remained unflappable, his eyebrow arcing in response to her outburst. The others exchanged a brief glance.
“Enough!” she hissed. “I am sick and tired of all this testosterone! This . . . this obsession to conquer and control everything you come across!” Her gaze flicked from one elf to the next, her eyes ablaze with a furious fire. “I am a person. Not a slave, not a tool, not a means to an end. I have feelings, thoughts, desires . . . just like you.” She fixed Vaelor and Aegonar with a stern glare. “And I don’t care what your opinion about humans is. You need to start treating me as a person. As an equal. If you don’t, then you can forget about your fucking prophecy.” With one last challenging glance, she spun on her heel and strode out of the room.
The sharp click-clack of her boots against the polished stone echoed through the eerily quiet hallways.
Behind her, Eldrion’s soft footsteps followed, persistently matching her brisk pace. His unwavering determination to shadow her movements grated on her nerves.
As she entered her new quarters, she moved quickly across the room to the wide, arching window, throwing it open. The cool breeze gently brushed against her face.
Behind her, Eldrion’s steps echoed softly, halting at the door—a silent sentinel.
