“And humans don’t have magic.”
“That’s right.” He smiles tightly.
“I wish we did.”
“Why’s that?”
“Maybe then it would be warmer. Maybe then we could part the clouds and see the sun.”
Father sits in his chair, pulling me onto his lap as he places two fingers on my heart. “All the magic you need is right in here, Elorie Vale. Don’t you forget that. You don’t need the sun to glow. Not when you are a star.”
Vomit heaves from my stomach, and there’s no holding it back. The sharp pain that lances my chest is as powerful as the obsidian chains.
Obsidian should have no effect on humans, so these must be spelled because their weight is overwhelming.
Folding forward, I retch all over the floor. Not that it’s much of a floor. What’s beneath me is stone and dirt. Musky and cold. My stomach empties, filling my cell with the stench of vomit.
This cell is nothing like the prison. It’s more like the human guardhouse in the village. There are bars and locks, and nocarvings that would contain a Fae. It’s damp and cool, so I must be underground, but without a window, I can’t tell how much time has passed. Whether it’s day or night.
Does it really matter?
“Good Gods.” Callum sighs as the door to the cell creaks open.
“I don’t know how the gods are good if they allow all of this,” I grumble.
Callum unlatches one of the chains, and the moment it’s off me, the sourness in my stomach abates. “I told the Guard that was too many chains.”
“How kind of you.” There’s no hiding my sarcasm.
“Elorie—”
“Don’t.” I cut him off, leaning forward to vomit again, but nothing comes out.
At least my arms are no longer secured to my body, so I can balance myself. A far cry from nearly tumbling into my own vomit moments ago. When the dry heaving finally settles, I sink back on my shins and take a breath.
“Are you okay?”
Glancing up, I don’t bother answering Callum’s question. Nothing about this is okay.
“Right.” He drags his hand through his dark hair, and for the first time in my life, I resent his beautiful face. “I’m sorry.”
Apologies are useless if he isn’t going to let me out. “You let them take me.”
“The king summoned you. I had no choice.”
“There is always a choice,” I echo the prisoner’s words, wondering if the whispers were right.
Did I really wake him from the dead? Was it real when those golden eyes opened, and his runes glowed? Is he still trapped in that horrible, dark place, wandering endless halls while the prison slowly swallows him deeper?
“You’re right. There is always a choice.” Callum grabs a bucket and rag, cleaning my vomit from the floor.
A moon ago, I’d have been flushed with embarrassment at the thought of Callum seeing me vomit. Much less of him cleaning it up. As he runs a cloth through the mess, I decide this is what he deserves for bringing me here.
Where ishere?
“Where am I?” I glance around at the dark cell.
“The king’s palace.”
