Jessamine
Someone tipped off the guards.
A troop led by Randale and Gerald found me by the grove while I was still trying to process everything. I didn’t bother explaining or defending myself when Randale hurled me atop his horse, asking what the fuck happened. I didn’t respond. I was exhausted and…everything was too loud.
That was hours ago.
Now, I’m in the dungeons, because everyone knows. Kier knows, and he hasn’t come to see me. I can only guess what that means. I’m not in the least, surprised. He wasn’t even there when I’d been taken through the halls of his castle, still covered in blood that was and wasn’t mine, shivering, dress ripped in too many places, paraded as a murderer.
The stares hadn’t hurt. The whispers had no effect. I’ve gotten used to them by now. The people seemed more scared of me, appalled, than angry at what I’d done. What did hurt, was seeing Az, Mikkel and Camilla already in the dungeons when I arrived. What I don’t understand, is who tipped the guards off, and exactly how the news spread, even before I reached the castle with the troops.
“Did the Dawn King send you to infiltrate our ranks and murder our own?”
I stare up at the Eldris, and I must be a fool to not feel fear as I stare at the male whose hands are large enough to crush my skull on a whim. “Where’s Kier?” I repeat, like a broken record.
With only a single torch lighting up this chamber, it is shrouded mostly in darkness, with no windows and a single door at the farthest end of the door. It reeks of dried blood, fear and urine in here, and I’m seated in the sole chair in the chamber. There are chains on the floor around me, a collar hanging awkwardly off the chair’s arm, and I wonder if they aren’t on me because Kier ordered against it.
I doubt that. It’s probably because of my status.
Eldris, the executioner, braces his hands on either side of the table, his eyes hard as he regards me without mercy. “His Majesty is occupied, and I’ll have you know that you are in no place to make demands. We shall begin again. How long have you been working side by side with the Rogue King to destroy Neredia?”
I meet his unflinching stare with one of mine., let him see that I’ve had enough death scares in one day to be frightened by his somewhat impressive aura that’s lined with stench of rot and death. “Under whose orders am I being held in here?”
The male releases an impatient growl and the torch flickers, giving me glimpse of very sharp teeth. “The Luna’s.”
I want to laugh, but I can’t bring myself to. Of course, Moira would take advantage of the situation and Kier will let her. I lean back in the uncomfortable chair, my mind reeling and my eyes heavy. “I will only speak to the Alpha. Tell him if he wishes to pry answers from me, he can do it himself.”
Eldris bristles visibly, but he marches off, the heavy door to the torture chamber rolling shut behind him and I am left alone. Time rolls by slowly, and because I have nothing else to do, or no means of leaving this dark place, I sleep. In my dream, I’m drowning, reaching for the surface, but there’s no one to hold me. No one to pull me out.
The heavy grating of the door startles me awake, and rounding the corner, dressed in a black velvet gown trailing behind her is Moira. The crest lays atop her high and demure collar, blazing brightly in the almost dark chamber. Her fingers are entwined, the utter lack of jewelry on them stark, and it takes me a moment to realize she’s dressed for mourning.
Her black hair is pulled tightly from her face, and every line seems too sharp, every detail too distinct. Her lashes are wet and the white around her blue eyes are stained with red like she’s been crying the entire day. I suppose she has. Oh, my poor mother-in-law.
I scoff at the thought, surprising myself.
She frowns, noting my wrists and ankles, free of chains. “How is she to speak if you’ve all but made her comfortable in that chair?” With a questioning tilt of her head, she regards Eldris. “Have you been off your work too long to recall the basics of torture?”
Eldris’ jaw clenches. “The Alpha gave an order. She is not to be touched, lest I lose my hands, and my head after.”
The executioner’s words floor me, and I grip the chair’s handle, sitting straighter. Shock. Confusion. Dread. All of these and more hit me at once and my blood chills. I am in here per Moira’s instructions that couldn’t have been obeyed with Kier’s approval. I am not to be harmed, per Kier’s order. What does that even mean? I try to understand what Kier must be thinking, and I come up with nothing.
That terrifies me, even more than the possibility of having my head chopped off at the block. Behind a mask of calm, my heart sinks and sinks. My head spins and a paralyzing fear spreads from my belly, numbing my entire body. Perhaps he’ll do it himself. Kill me.
“The Alpha mourns his mother, blinded by a grief she caused,” she points at me. “Kier is not himself right now, and in any occasion where the ruler cannot make decisions, the council, headed by his Luna stands in his place.”
I see where this is headed, and it’s not a good place for me. Yet, it doesn’t bother me either. I wonder where Kier is. I remember when his father died. How he’d sat by the railing, watching the stars shoot across the sky for days on end, without speaking. He cried on some. On others, he just stared at nothing. I’d hidden in the corner, watching, and I had wished that I could take it all away. I just wanted to see him smile again. I didn’t understand why he grieved then. His father was a terrible man, and everyone knew Kier had been on the receiving end of most of Aiden’s violence.
I thought that he might be happy. Free. But Kier grieved instead, for a horrible person. It was in that moment that I realized that I loved him. I didn’t understand him or his heart, but I’d have done anything to make it stop hurting.
And now, I’ve orphaned him, and it stings more knowing what Renae has done to him. That she has groomed him, molded and reformed him to her liking. That even if the truth slapped him in the face, he could never not choose her.
Such…misery.
“Put the chain on her,” Moira orders, and Eldris moves.
I’d fight, but I don’t feel like it. The chains burn on my skin, and I stifle a wince when a collar closes around my neck, still sore from where Renae bit me. “Taking advantage of one’s grief to gain power has to be a new level of low,” I say to Moira, tugging uselessly at the chains.
Her tight smile is as sharp as knives. “Yet, I’m not the one in chains.”
I shrug. “We both know I won’t be in here for long.”
“Until Kier is deemed fit to resume his duties, I head the council.” Her stare is direct, unwavering. “You will die in here, Jessamine. It is the least you deserve.”
I giggle. “So much angst. Is this because I slept with him?” I look to Eldris, whose eyes have widened to the size of saucers. “I wonder what the Alpha might do to you when he finds that you have put his possibly pregnant mate in chains.”
Moira goes still, and Eldris stumbles a step back. “Preg—” He stops talking. “Mate? You’re the Alpha’s mate?”
“She’s lying!” Moira snaps, when he moves to take chains off, startling the confused man, who looks genuinely torn between obeying her and Kier. Moira seizes my hair, forcing it down enough to rip a few strands out. “You are not with child!”
No, I’m not, but this is fun. Seeing her all riled up. She sees the answer in my eyes and a sudden crack echoes as her hand connects with my face. Pain spikes through my cheeks, ebbing slowly with every second. She flexes her fingers and clenches her fists. “Be very careful what you say to me, bitch. I could kill you right now and no one would fault me for it. Mishaps happen all the time in this chamber. Interrogations span out of control. You may not be expendable, yet, but your companions are. You will comply or we will begin killing them off, starting from the guard.”
I lurch in my chair, the chains rattling as they hold me down. “If you hurt them—”
“What?” she laughs. “You’ll rip my heart out too? Maybe get out of those first.” She points idly at the chains and the chair, before she walks away with Eldris hot on her heel, asking what should be done with me.
Unsurprisingly, the only other visits I get is Eldris delivering a sad excuse for dinner. I don’t eat it. I don’t trust that it isn’t poisoned. When I ask how the rest are, he doesn’t respond. I ask if word has been sent to my father, and he says nothing. I ask about Kier, and demand his presence. I get nothing.
Not that day. Or the next. Or the next.
I give up and eat on the third day when I begin to tremble from cold and hunger. The soup is bland, and the bread hard as stone, but I devour it in seconds, uncaring. When Eldris questions me, I don’t respond either, not even when he brings in a sobbing Camilla. Eventually, he grows tired of her wailing and returns her to the cell outside.
I’m alone once again, watching the torch burn into nothingness, along with my hope.