Page 32 of The Crowned Queen

“Was Jaxon happy?” Araya demanded. “Is he angry? Did they bring in another high-profile prisoner⁠—”

“Stop!” Belanis’s voice cracked, her free hand scrabbling at Araya’s fingers. “Miss, please—he’ll punish me⁠—”

Araya recoiled as if burned, releasing the other female. Belanis stumbled back, her bright blue eyes wide as she cradled her wrist to her chest.

“I don’t know anything,” she repeated, her voice shaking like she was trying not to cry. “And even if I did I couldn’t tell you—you know this! Did you forget everything? We don’t ask questions. We don’t draw attention to ourselves. We obey and keep quiet. That’s how we survive.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that.” Araya took a half-step forward, reaching out again. “I’ve seen it. A world where we don’t live under their thumb. There are other choices⁠—”

“Choices?” Belanis let out a brittle laugh. “You’re one to talk, Miss Starwind. You played the game better than any of us—you were his student, his apprentice, his bond. You had every privilege…and you threw it all away.”

She bent down, picking up the sodden shift Araya had discarded on the floor. She picked it up, dangling the silken material from one finger.

“I guess you’re just like the rest of us now, though,” she said coldly. “Not all of us reap such rewards for entertaining the Shaws.”

Araya’s stomach lurched. “What are you talking about?”

“Did you think you were special?” Belanis dropped the sodden shift back to the floor with a wet plop, turning to the basin. Water splashed, steaming as she poured it from the earthenware pitcher she must have brought in with her. “We all get called to his rooms, Miss Starwind. His father’s too.”

No. Araya recoiled, her heart suddenly in her throat. No. She couldn’t possibly mean⁠—

“If you’d been smarter—” Belanis set a hairbrush and a cake of soap down next to the basin with more force than necessary. “If you cared about anyone other than yourself, you would have tried harder to make him happy. He hurts us less when he’s happy.”

Araya sucked in a sharp breath. “Belanis⁠—”

But the other female’s face was set, her shoulders rigid as she finished laying out her supplies.

“Get dressed, Miss Starwind,” she said. “Before someone else pays the price for your defiance. Again.”

Araya could only watch as Belanis turned her back, shoving the key into the lock and shouldering the barred door open to protect her hands. She kicked it closed behind her, not meeting Araya’s gaze as she slid the lock home with a screech of metal.

Araya sat on the edge of the cot a long time after her footsteps faded away, staring at the steam rising from the basin. What Belanis had said—she didn’t want to believe it. But Araya couldn’t deny the cold flicker of understanding that slithered down her spine. Neither one of them could lie.

She stood, crossing to the basin. The water had gone lukewarm by now, but she cupped her hands, swishing a mouthful to clean her teeth before lathering the blessedly unscented bar of soap and scrubbing her face until the last cobwebs of sleep were cleared away.

Finally, she raked the brush through her hair. It was long now—longer than she’d ever worn it here. But when she sectioned it into three and braided it tightly, she almost felt like the scared young female who had walked into Jaxon Shaw’s class at the Aetherium all those years ago. Lost, and desperate for someone to save her.

But she wasn’t that frightened child anymore.

Araya tied off the end of the braid, straightening her shoulders and folding her hands in her lap as she settled onto the cot to wait.

It wasn’t long before she heard a door open, familiar footsteps echoing off the stone walls. Araya didn’t look up when he came to a halt in front of her cell or even when the key grated in the lock. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of thinking she was waiting eagerly for him.

“Well,” Jaxon said. “Don’t you look nice.” His fingers brushed the woven strands of her braid, toying with the end. “Ready to go?”

Araya’s stomach tightened, the instinct to jerk away from his touch buzzing under her skin. But she forced herself to sit still, her eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

“Look at me,” he said.

She had to. Magic needled at her in warning as Araya lifted her chin as slowly as she dared, finally meeting his gaze. Jaxon smiled faintly at her, but there was no triumph in his expression. No anger or irritation. If anything, he looked strained, the skin around his eyes tight with tension. But that was only to be expected after what happened. There was nothing she could latch onto to guess whether Loren had escaped or been dragged away in chains or⁠—

Gods, she would know if he’d died, wouldn’t she? Even though she couldn’t reach for the bond, it was still there. She would know. She’d have to.

“Put this on,” Jaxon said.

Araya stared down at the swath of black fabric he’d pressed into her hands, her blood turning to ice in her veins. He’d blindfolded her when they came in, but this—this was a hood. The thick, heavy cloth would cover her entire face, like a prisoner being led to the executioner’s block.

“Don’t make me order you to do it,” Jaxon warned when she hesitated. “I don’t have time for your little rebellions right now, Araya. We’re expected—and you are going to be on your best behavior.”