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I had yet to go hungry as meals were regularly brought down to me, dessert included. Hell, this was better than some of the hotels I’d stayed in, but my ease in this ghastly situation didn’t stop me from wondering what everyone else was doing.
Princess Maggie and King Ottack’s birds would have come and gone by now. No letters to be found or delivered to the waiting royalty. They would know something was wrong. If King Windre wasn’t careful, not only would my queen descend upon this realm, but Ottack’s court would descend upon his. Gods, I didn’t want to think of what that would mean for me if I was stuck in the basement of this castle. Nothing good, I’m sure.
Footfalls sounded from the stairwell. I knew it wasn’t Red. She had yet to see me and she had every right to hate me. I hated me. Somehow an inkling of hope kept rising, only for me to be disappointed. So instead, I pushed that hope deep down inside me where I hid everything else I wished I didn’t feel.
In my periphery, I could see a long brown braid where I longed for short black hair. It was stupid of me to want.
I was in no position for such things.
The King hung on the bars of the cell, watching me as I watched the ground. I imagined I looked like I belong behind these bars at this point. My hair had grown out long enough that it bothered me by being in my face. Dirt had collected on my skin. I had long since stripped out of my uniform, choosing to keep only the pants for the sake of my visitors. Though, I’m not sure why I gave them even that. I was the uncomfortable one and somehow I still felt the need to cater to the expectations of their society.
“I know where the token is,” King Windre said.
My spine stiffened, my shoulders pulled back and tightened. Daggers of white hot magic prickled up the length of my back and into my clenched jaw. Every time it stung like a thousand bee stings. Every time my back arched like I could pull away from the searing pain.
I pressed my eyes shut to avoid seeing the red that tinted everything, but I could still see it behind my eyelids. The haunting of a blood oath.
“I wish you wouldn’t tell me things like that,” I ground out.
King Windre chuckled. With one hand, he dusted the metal bars with the end of his braid, like it was a small broom. His gray eyes turned toward me, unfocused.
“Tell me, King Windre, do you enjoy seeing me in pain?” I muttered when his smile didn’t fall.
“Ah, no. Despite the fact that I tried so desperately to convince you, I am no monster. I do not enjoy watching others hurt.”
“Then why do you laugh when I’m so clearly pained by your words?”
King Windre laughed yet again, dropping his braid from his hand and gripping the bars on either side of him. For a second, I could imagine that it was him behind these bars instead of me.
It didn’t spark joy like I thought it would.
“It’s a peculiar thing,” he started slowly, the words falling off his lips like he had to take the time to savor every single one. “Magic in your world is so different from ours. It leaves me wondering why you signed up for the life that you have. I thought perhaps you enjoyed the pain.”
“I didn’t sign up for my life, just as you didn’t sign up for yours.” I pressed my palms to the ground and gave him my full attention as the waves of magic that called for my commands to be fulfilled died down ever so slightly.
“I enjoy being king.” The drawl of his voice was almost a song. In the back of my mind though, I could feel the lie within it.
“Do you know that I have a particularly good sense for when someone is not telling the truth? And I can tell that not only do you not enjoy being the king…you despise it.”
King Windre leaned away from the bars, his nose upturned and his mouth parted in mild amusement. “What else can you tell me about myself, Milo Piercing?”
I sighed. My shoulders sagged against the wall. Talking to this man was exhausting. “I’m not a mind reader. I just have an affinity for when someone tells the truth or not.”
“It is true that I don’t always like being king.” He picked at a fleck of dirt on part of his collar. “I find that I feel compelled to align with at least some of the ideals expected of a Fae king. No one cares if I like being king. So, really, there isn’t any need to say it.”
Parts of what he said still felt like a lie. A different sort of lie. The kind of lie one told themselves to cover up the muck of insecurities. I was all too familiar with those sorts of lies.
“Have you only come down here to marvel at the pain that is my queen’s magic?”
“I—”
“Please don’t say anything else about thethingthat we shouldn’t talk about in front of me.” I held up a finger, drained from the pain that slowly eased from my body.
“It’s just that I have questions.” He smiled widely. Since dropping his façade, I was finding that when he grinned he often looked like a cat ready to pounce, playful yet dangerous. And now he smiled rather often.
“Questions that…Randsin…” I hissed, prepared for the spike of discomfort, “couldn’t answer?”
“No, it seems he doesn’t know the answer to everything. Which is a shame, because I could really use someone like that.”
