I stare at the two orcs who eye me warily. Slowly, I lift my hands to show them I’m unarmed. “Listen, there’s been a misunderstanding. I’m not a spy. I’m Ivy, Korr’s mate. I work at the infirmary with Taris.”
I haven’t met either of them, but maybe they’ve seen me around? I stick out from the crowd much more since I’m human.
The woman takes a step forward. “I’m sorry. But Marut said you were caught in a restricted corridor. We have to keep you here until the king decides what to do with you.”
Her voice is almost apologetic, but she does pat me down, and her companion never puts away his sword either. They only find the key to Korr’s room on me, and they let me keep it, as if they cannot fathom how I could possibly hurt myself or them with this blunt object. Then they open the other door in the room—not the one leading back to the corridor but another, which is reinforced with iron bands and has a complicated locking mechanism that the woman opens with a heavy iron key chained to her weapons belt.
The moment I see what’s beyond the door, I balk. “No, please.”
But the two guards take my arms—gently but firmly—and frog-march me down the short corridor. It doesn’t lead anywhere, it’s a dead end, an appendix of a hallway, but has eight iron doors set in the earthen walls. They’re all closed, each with a small, latched window set high in the slab of metal.
They’re prison cells. I’d thought Korr had been joking when he’d said that the king had kept his brother under lock and key, but clearly not.
And I’m about to be put into one of these dark holes.
“Please, just find Korr,” I plead as the woman unlocks the first door with another key from her belt. “Tell him I’m here, or he’ll worry so much.”
She purses her lips. “I’m sure his brother will inform him.”
“He won’t,” I insist. “They don’t like each other. Please. I’ll be good in here, I promise. I won’t make any trouble. But you need to go to him.”
This pleading and being hauled away, it brings up the memory of that fated day when the villagers decided to kill me for being a witch. The orcs aren’t hurting me, but they’re not letting me go either, and as much as I hate it, I need Korr to save me once more.
“We’ll be back soon,” the man says. “When the king arrives.”
They stand behind me as the door of the cell yawns open, the blackness inside ominous. I glance over my shoulder, desperate, but they’re unmoving. I know they’ll carry me inside if I don’t go on my own, and if that’s the last dignity I’ll be allowed, I’m taking it.
I step over the threshold of the cell. My body shudders violently. The lamplight from the short hallway doesn’t extend far past the door, and the only thing I see is a sleeping pallet on the floor, the bedding folded neatly. It’s clean and doesn’t smell as rank as I’d imagined it would, but it’s bare—and dark.
“Can I have a lantern, please?” I ask in a small voice.
The woman shakes her head. “Marut warned us not to give you anything you could use as a weapon.” She pauses, then grimaces. “I’m sorry.”
But she closes the door anyway, and the darkness envelops me.
No matter how much I blink, my eyes can’t adjust, because there’s simply no light in here. The door is a solid slab of metal, the tiny window is latched closed, and orcs are nothing if not capable artisans—the door fits perfectly into its frame, without even a half inch of space to let in the light. I feel my way to the cell wall and follow it until my boots bump into the sleeping pallet. Trembling, I sink onto the straw mattress and hug my knees to my chest.
I’d tried to convince the guards of my innocence, but it makes sense they believed Marut instead of me. They’ve likely known him for years, perhaps all their lives, and I’m just some human who has come to live at the Hill a couple of months ago.
I only have to wait, and Korr will save me. I’m certain he won’t leave me to rot down here for long.
I lied to him.
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip so much it hurts, but the pain doesn’t chase away the knowledge that I’ve kept a significant part of who I am from Korr. He asked me, point blank, if I was a witch, and I denied it.
Of course I did, damn it.
When he found me, I’d been tied to a tree and left for dead because my fellow villagers thought I was a dangerous witch. I wasn’t given any chance to explain that my gift, such as it is, doesn’t extend beyond making a little ball of light, because whichever ancestor of mine had been a witch was so far removed now, this is all that is left of their power.
So I’d told Korr a little white lie. I needed to protect myself, and I had no idea whether orcs were any more tolerant of magic users than humans. Besides, what would be the point? I couldn’t do anything with my power. It was better to simply hide it and pretend I was a human through and through.
I should have told him the truth. I should have known my luck would run out. These two months have been the happiest of my adult life, so it makes sense that something was going to ruin it all. I’d been so certain I was alone in that corridor earlier, but I shouldn’t have let my guard down.
Marut must have been lurking near that heavy iron grate, guarding it, and he deliberately let me wander that way. How could he have missed my cries for help with his sharp orc senses? Then, when I’d walked too close to the secret corridor, he’d pounced on me and called me a spy.
I see now why Korr insisted that their relationship was beyond repair.
I just hope that Marut’s word won’t win with the king, or I’ll remain locked here forever, withering in the dark.
How long can humans even last without sunlight?
The thought of Korr brings fresh pain. He thought he found his fated mate, and now he might lose me—and his chance to form a family. We’ve been trying to work out how to live together despite our issues, and now it’ll be all for nothing.
My throat closes up at the thought, but I refuse to cry. When the king comes, I need to state my case clearly, without blubbering, or I might not get another chance to explain what happened.
Instead, I try to focus on my breathing and on my surroundings. I hadn’t noticed the sound before, but there’s a trickle of water somewhere to my right. I don’t want to move from the cot just yet, but I assume it’s a privy niche, since all orc rooms seem to be equipped with them. That’s good to know—because I have no idea how long I’ll have to stay down here.
The more I consider the cell, the faster my heart beats. I’m so deep underground, there’s no hope of escape. Even if I could somehow make it through that heavy iron door, there are two orc warriors stationed at the entrance to the prison, and if I got past them, I’d get hopelessly lost in the corridors again. Not to mention the guards that are always posted at all the entrances to the Hill. I wouldn’t make it out, no matter what I did, and besides, Korr might pay for my mistakes.
With every quickened breath, I become more aware of how trapped I am. The earth that is heaped above and around me could crush me at any moment. If there was an earth tremor, I’d be buried alive. Or rather squished to death by the weight of all the rock.
I dig the heels of my palms into my eyes, trying to calm my breathing, and sparks of light dance inside my eyelids. Then it hits me.
I can make my own light.
It takes me several tries to spark up my power, but a glow forms in the center of my palm, cool and bright. I squint at it, my eyes watering after becoming used to all the blackness, but when I point my palm away from me, I finally see the cell in its entirety.
It’s cramped, but like I noted at entry, not entirely unpleasant. The cot is the only piece of furniture in the room. There are two blankets and a thin pillow on it, the linens freshly washed, and there’s a tapestry hiding the privy niche with running water, like I suspected.
There’s nothing to do, though. Nothing to pass the time other than to sit in silence and contemplate my mistakes.
My light gutters out, my concentration failing, and the room sinks into darkness once more. I remain on the cot, lip trembling, and try to make some sort of plan, but there’s nothing I can do, not until the king arrives and passes his verdict.
Will there be a hearing of some sort? Will I be able to tell my side of the story, prove to everyone that I’m not a danger?
Then something else strikes me. I hope they’ll bring me food. I have the water running in the privy, so I can last several days, but without food, I won’t survive long after that. Surely, the orcs aren’t so cruel as to leave me to starve, are they?
I think of Dawn and her obvious devotion to her royal husband. She wouldn’t be so in love with him if he was a monster.
But if it is up to Marut, I’ll likely remain here until the day I die, just so he can get his way. I wonder what happened to him that he’d hate his twin so much. What possessed him to lock Korr in that cellar in the first place, what prompted him to trap me like this.
I stop that line of thought immediately, knowing that if I try to think too reasonably about my mate’s brother, I’ll start to pity him, and then I’ll lose all the fury I’m clinging on to. Better to remain angry. It’s what will keep me from giving up.
I don’t know how much time passes. I use the privy and take a drink of water, and by the slight empty feeling in my stomach, I suspect it must be past dinnertime. I’d thought I would eat with Korr at the baths—or later in our room—after the tournament, but all that seems so far away now.
Still, I’m too nervous to feel real hunger for now. I know it’ll grip me eventually, but I’m still holding out hope that the orcs are kind jailers and will bring me something to eat eventually.
With nothing better to do, I’m just settling down to rest when a muffled shout has me sitting up in alarm. I strain my ears, wishing I had the orcs’ senses, but there’s nothing for the longest time. Then a crash follows, dampened by the thick walls and the iron door, and after several fraught moments, the crunch of the key in the lock.
I stand, my head spinning with the too-fast movement, and place my hand on the wall for support. I only have time to quickly pat down my hair and straighten my shoulders—I need to be at my best for the audience with the king—before the door opens on well-oiled hinges.
And Korr is there. I squint at the lamplight which floods into my dark cell, but I’d know him anywhere. His hair is disheveled, his tunic torn on one shoulder, and he looks wild, his knuckles bloody and his eyes wide.
He takes one look at me and lurches forward, and I run to him, throwing myself in his arms. He catches me and wraps his strong arms around my body.
“Ivy.”
His voice is a low groan, as if being apart from me caused him physical pain. At the relief radiating from him, all my defenses shatter, and I sob into his shirt, finally letting myself feel everything I’d tried to keep down while I was locked up, alone.
Korr holds me to his chest, then staggers to the cot and drags me into his lap. I want to crawl into his skin but settle for clinging on to his broad shoulders, my face buried in his chest.
It takes me a long time to calm down, and all the while, he whispers soothing nonsense in my ear and brushes his hands over my back, offering comfort. Finally, I sniff and pull up the sheet from the bed to wipe my face.
“What happened to you?” I ask in a weak voice. “Are you hurt?”
He shakes his head and brushes my hair away from my face. “You’ve been locked up in here and yet you worry about me?” Then he cups my chin and kisses me, his lips gentle.
I melt into the kiss, sinking every emotion I feel for him into it.
But soon, Korr breaks away from me and clears his throat. I frown, then follow his gaze to the door of the cell.
Several orcs wait there, blocking out most of the light. I didn’t even see them arrive, because I’d been too consumed with Korr, too relieved he’d come for me. But now I recognize King Gorvor, the two prison guards—and Marut, standing behind them all.
That propels me to my feet. I push away from Korr and swipe my palms over my cheeks to brush away any stray tears. Then I clasp my hands and wait for the king to speak.
But he only stares at us for a long moment, as if trying to make up his mind. His stern face is unreadable, and Dawn is nowhere to be seen, which terrifies me for some reason.
Then the king lets out a long breath. “A lantern, please,” he says in his deep voice. “And a chair.”
The male guard jumps to the task and brings the king the lantern first, then one of the chairs from the entryway to the prison. The king takes the chair and carries it into the cell himself. He sets the lantern on the floor between the chair and the cot, then sits and motions for me to join Korr on the bed. I sink onto the cot beside my mate, and he takes my hand and clutches it tight, bringing it into his lap.
I glance at him, worried. I don’t know what’s been going on since we got separated in the great hall, but I doubt he has managed to get outside in all of this time. And now, we’re as deep underground as we can be, in a prison cell of all places. I wish I could ask the king to move someplace else, but that would entail explaining why, and if Korr isn’t ready to do that, I won’t force the issue.
I merely intertwine our fingers and squeeze back, letting him know silently that I’m here for him.
“Hello again, Ivy,” the king begins. “I am sorry we’re meeting again under such circumstances.”
I can’t do much more than nod, not while he’s staring at me so intently.
“The guards have informed me you have been searched for weapons,” he continues, “but I have to ask—can I trust you not to use your magic to harm us?”
I gape at him, panic rising in my chest. “N-no, I mean, yes! I can’t even—my magic doesn’t work like that.”
There it is, out in the open, my secret revealed. I wait for them to cry out in horror, to accuse me of trying to harm them, but nothing happens. Korr’s hand twitches in mine, but he doesn’t draw away from me. Instead, he nudges me gently with his shoulder, as if expressing his support.
“Well, then,” the king says. “That’s good. Now, I would like to hear your side of the story.”
I swallow down my fear and say, “Korr and I attended the tournament. I helped Taris at the infirmary stall, then agreed to meet him at the baths. But I must have picked the wrong corridor, because I got completely turned around.” I sit forward, eager to explain. “You see, I’m terrible at directions. I’ve been making notes on all the paths I need to take daily, I have them in my room. A sort of map to help me move around the Hill.”
The king’s frown intensifies at that. “You’ve been making a map of our settlement? To sell to our enemies?”
“What?” I yelp. “No! W-what enemies?”
“Who are you working for?” the king demands. “Who told you about the corridor?”
I gape at him, fear and confusion lancing through me. “I’m not working for anyone. Please, you have to believe me. Mara will confirm this, she’s seen me make the notes.” I’m babbling fast, but if this is my only chance to defend myself, I need to take it. “I don’t know what’s in that corridor, and I wish I never went there, because it’s brought all this down on me.”
I know better than to ask what they’re hiding in there. The last thing this situation needs is them thinking I’m still trying to find out its purpose.
“You can ask Taris,” I say, desperate. “Or Korr. They’ll tell you I haven’t done anything wrong.”
I turn to my mate, imploring him to say something—anything.
But he only shakes his head, his eyes downcast.
And I realize I’m on my own.
