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With a careful but swift movement, I manipulated my left hand through the manacle.
The metal creaked in protest, and I froze. But Fenyx did not turn around.
The skin around my wrist was slick with blood as I finally slipped my hand free.
My senses heightened, I raised my liberated left hand towards the needle-like injector positioned at my neck. Brushing my fingers against the cold, sharp edge of the device, I pushed, altering the injector's course just enough so that the next delivery of bloodwraith infusion would splatter harmlessly behind my shoulders.
Then, sticky with blood and perspiration, I returned my hand to its original place within the manacle, concealing my newfound freedom.
My pulse raced as I finished sliding my wrist through just as Fenyx began to turn back to me.
He held up a slice of something that looked like raw meat, and to my disgust, I realized he was chewing something.
“Fae heart. Legends say it's a source of great power. Care for a sample?”
I glared at him in revulsion but said nothing.
He swallowed, blood coating his lips. “Of course, it’s not the true source of fae power. That’s much more complex. It’s in the blood, you see. These”—He tapped his breastplate briefly—“required careful distillation. Not to mention considerable willpower to wield.”
“I don’t care,” I snapped, absolutely sickened. “I’m not interested in the fucked up ways you stole power from innocent fae-bloods, Fenyx. I don’t care, because you’re going to lose all of that power in a short while.”
Fenyx popped another piece of heart into his mouth. “Oh?” he said, chewing. “And how is that?”
“Because,” I fumed. “I’m going to kill you.”
The Lord General smirked. “So optimistic for one in chains. I like that about you, Morgan. Sweetly, naively optimistic, despite all you’ve been through to teach you otherwise.” His eyes roamed my body, practically peeling the clothes off my form. I cringed. “I think I’ll finish up here and then we can get started. Your uncle can wait. After all, he’s not going anywhere. And there is a Pendragon princess in our midst.” He smiled in a way that made my skin crawl. “I’ll enjoy what you have to offer. Then, we’ll start your own... distillation.”
He turned his back to me once more and began collecting instruments on the table. “We have at least an hour or two before I need to be at the temple.”
“The temple? Is that where Kaye is?” I guessed.
“Very good. Yes, the High Priest has taken the sacrificial little lamb there. Your other brother should be joining us later tonight.”
Once Arthur’s massacre of innocents was ended.
“The king was supposed to use his own child for the ritual,” Fenyx continued. I watched as he wiped the blood from his hands, then began putting his knife set away. “And he was fully prepared to do so. But the queen has put rather a damper on that plan.”
“What ritual? If I’m not going to live through the night, you may as well tell me.”
Something flared up in the back of my mind.
Draven. He was reaching out to me, desperately. I tried to reach back, but it was no use. My bond to him flickered like a dying star and faded away from me.
Still, it was a faint reminder that hope lived. The bloodwraith was already beginning to fade.
But it wasn't fading fast enough.
Fenyx was approaching me, a heavy ring of keys in his hand. He carried nothing else. Clearly, he thought the bloodwraith would keep me tractable enough for him and his breastplate to handle easily.
I took a measured breath, my pulse quickening. My gaze darted across the chamber to where Excalibur lay.
My senses heightening, I sent a plea towards it, willing the ancient sword to aid me in my time of dire need.
Fenyx's hands were moving to unlock my restraints. He was uncuffing me on the right.
I curled my left hand around the small, rusty screw I had discreetly concealed. It was a meager weapon, but for now, it was all I had.
My right hand was free.
