Rain pelted the stone tower, drumming the rooftop like tiny fairy feet dancing overhead. The aroma of drenched earth drifted inside the window, fresh and wild. Layala loved that smell. It used to fill her with peace and calm. But not that, nor the beauty of the moon’s pale light breaking through the dark clouds could penetrate the pain anymore. The smile it used to draw was stolen by a dragon’s hand shoved through the body of her lover. She rubbed her aching temples, then picked up her only comfort, a dirty cerulean pillow. It smelled like ages of dust, but she held it against her middle, hugging it for warmth. She ignored the straw poking through the scratchy, hole-ridden sheet beneath her. The irritation of it was a reminder she was still alive.
Come to me. I need you.
“Thane,” she whimpered as that deep, soothing voice echoed in her mind again. Was it possible to hear him with their mate bond stolen and erased? Or was her own mind playing cruel tricks? She didn’t know, but it only prodded at the pain throbbing in her chest.
Come to me. Please.
“I can’t,” she whimpered, letting her face fall onto the pillow. Her teeth chattered with the chilly breeze and the spray of icy droplets hitting her skin through the single open window, dampened her clothes. This circular gray stone room became a prison, the miserable color as depressing as the autumn rains. The only ways out were the window with a seventy-foot drop, and the solid door, always locked from the outside. Always.
“Remember the colorful blossoms of summer on the darkest days of winter. Remember the smells of lavender and citrus, and sweet smiles, for they will get you through that endless night,” Layala whispered to herself. Aunt Evalyn would say that whenever the hard days threatened to win. She didn’t understand what it meant as a child, especially since Briar Hollow didn’t have long or dark winters. But she wholly understood it now—this was an endless nightmare, one she desperately wanted to wake up from.
Tears slipped out of her dry eyes and over-chapped lips. She was surprised she had any tears left. How many days had it been? One sunrise melted into the next. Days and weeks became a blur. How much time had passed since Thane sent that note? “I’m coming for you, Laya.” How many days had she gone without food or water? Was it weeks now? She couldn’t remember.
I need you, came that whisper. Was his voice taunting her now a hallucination—was he even real anymore?
The door creaked open. The same auburn-haired soldier who came each sunrise, afternoon, and after sunset, stepped inside. His sword swung at his side tonight, rather than ready to strike. They both knew she was too weak to attack him now, as she’d tried in the past. Whistling a morbidly cheerful tune, he walked across the creaky floorboards. Neither of them ever uttered a word. This was the only person she’d had contact with in weeks, and she didn’t even know his name. He was tall, slender but stronger than her by a shameful margin and he had weapons he wasn’t afraid to use.
Lying on her side, Layala didn’t move as he jabbed the barb into her arm to keep her magic at bay. The clinking of the metal chamber pot as he touched it with his boot echoed like a gong within the domed ceiling. He grumbled a nonchalant “huh” and left it. She hadn’t needed to use it in a couple days. There was nothing left in her. If she were human, she’d be dead.
The door clicked shut, the quiet scrape of the lock slid into place, and she sat up. She stared at the back of the dark wood, covered in thin scratches and gouges. She could almost hear the echoes of her own screams even now. Glancing down at her fingernails, Layala’s chin quivered. They were broken, splintered, and dried blood covered her hands.
The physical pain, even the excruciating hunger and thirst, wasn’t even the worst part; it was not knowing where Thane was, not being able to feel him. Or not knowing what happened to Piper and Fennan and Tifapine. Did Tenebris burn Briar Hollow? Did he have Aunt Evalyn, and would he kill her?
Her only hope was that he would keep them alive so he could use them to manipulate Layala, and Thane would come before then. He must come…
“Remember the colorful blossoms of summer on the darkest days—” her voice broke, and her body shook in silent sobs. Hope? What was hope anymore? She touched her chest for that familiar, worn piece of paper she kept tucked in her bosom.
She shot up, panic suddenly raking her chest. She pawed at the cot, searching for the only proof she had that Thane was alive when they insisted he was dead. The half-moon’s light shone in through the window just bright enough to see but the shadows were menacing.
“Where is it?” Her trembling hands left streaks of fresh blood the harder she scraped the fabric, searching.
She slid her feet to the floor and dropped to her knees to look under the four-inch gap the bed stood from the stone. Where is it?! Maybe seeing Thane dead broke her mind. Maker above, what if she imagined the note? She saw his crumbled, bloody body with a hole in his stomach… He didn’t move. He didn’t breathe…
She crawled to the window, pushing up to weak legs, until she latched onto the ledge. She groaned under the pressure of pulling herself up. Her heart crashed until it ached. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. Finally breaching the opening in her stone cage, she lay her chest across the ledge, one arm hanging out the window to the seventy-foot drop below, the other clutching the inside stone. A blast of cold wind hit her face and icy droplets shocked her out of panic.
“Thane where are you?” she whispered, staring down at the guards walking the pristine paths below. Were they completely oblivious to her or did they not care their supposed savior was locked up in misery? At some point someone must have heard her screams.
She cupped her hands, hoping for enough rain to quench her parched throat. The sprinkles were enough to wet her skin, but nature was a tease. Still, she greedily licked the moisture from her palm.
With a shaky breath, she tilted her head to look back inside. The small, crumpled piece of paper, her small bit of hope, lay next to the foot post of the bed. Shoving away from the wall, she dove for it and held it to her chest. On her knees, she straightened it and read the beautiful script:
I’m coming for you, Laya.
~ Thane
She climbed into the bed, tucked the note back in her top and finally slept.
The creak of hinges penetrated Layala’s slumber. Her crusted eyes opened to the hint of morning sunshine, bathing the room in warmth after a cold dark night. Light footsteps quickened her pulse. That was not the gait of her usual guard. She didn’t move, barely allowed herself to breathe. She curled in on herself more, holding the small blue pillow. She hated that she’d become this, cowering like a small child afraid of monsters, but even the effort to crawl to the window the night before left her weak.
She caught a glimpse of blond hair, and it felt like her stomach leapt into her throat. No, not him. Not him. Nightmares of King Tenebris’s ghoulish face standing over the dead bloody bodies of her parents, looming over Thane, cackling like an old crone, flooded her dreams. He’d grip her by her hair, tearing strands from her scalp, and scream at her to look at them. “Face what you have done!” She watched herself from far away, eyes slammed shut, trembling in his grasp, sobbing, pleading for him to stop.
She dragged in a deep breath, that’s not real. Not real.
“Layala.” It was Aldrich’s voice. Did he sound almost—sorrowful?
She opened one eye slowly, then the other to make sure it was him. His blond hair was tied back in a tight bun that made his face more severe. His pointed ears seemed sharper. How did she ever miss the resemblance to Tenebris? He looked just like him. His once wide, bright eyes looked heavy as they took in her appearance. His lips pressed together, and he reached toward her.
She mustered up enough strength to smack his hand away. “Don’t,” she snarled.
“You’re going downstairs. Get up, please.” He was too patient, too calm. She didn’t trust his demeanor after he’d knocked her in the head with the hilt of a sword and kicked her in the ribs. The bruises and cut were long gone but the memory lingered.
“You’ve been invited to breakfast.”
Breakfast… Her stomach cramped and her mouth watered at the thought of food of any kind. Potatoes, eggs, fruit. Water. She craved water more than anything. Her tongue felt like sand and her throat, gritty and aching. She blinked, confused. Why would he take her out of this room for breakfast? She rolled onto her side and put the pillow over her head. This was a trick. A trick she wouldn’t fall for. A false kindness or worse, if she was invited to breakfast with the king that meant they wanted to move forward, that they had a plan for her…
“Layala,” he chided, like she was a small child that didn’t want to get up for schooling. “You must be thirsty and hungry. It’s been twenty-eight days.”
“No.”
“Do you want to stay up here forever?”
What a stupid question. As if she’d asked to be here? The sound of sloshing liquid in a container was enough to make her turn back toward Aldrich. His off-white tunic was too crisp, too clean. Even his hands look softer holding a metal canteen. Clearly, he’d taken his time away from Thane and the Ravens to indulge in the luxuries his father offered.
A drop of water slid down the canteen onto the cot. Her throat burned like sparking dry flint. She reached for it with a shaky arm. The sheer effort it took made her angry. He kept moving it just out of her range. Furious tears stung. Bastard. Bastard. Bastard. She chanted and let her arm fall back to the bed.
“You’re that weak? Can you even sit up?” He wasn’t mocking her, and he sounded genuinely concerned but it must be an act.
It was an effort to pull air into her lungs at this point.
He pushed his arm under her back, forcing her to sit up. She was too tired, too weak to fight him off. “Come on. Have a drink. Please.”
She pressed her back into the stone wall, and he twisted off the top of the canteen. Cold metal touched her lips then water slid over her tongue. She moaned in relief. Nothing ever tasted so good. She drained the entire thing in seconds and then lifted her chin to level Aldrich with a blank stare.
“I’ve convinced my father to allow you to eat. Come downstairs.”
“What’s the point?”
“I’m trying to help you.”
“Why do you care? I’m here because of you. Just let me die.” She didn’t care anymore.
His mouth formed a hard line. “You won’t die. You’re an elf, Layala. Your body will go into hibernation for survival, and you’ll sleep. For months—years even.”
She’d felt that soul-deep tiredness in every pump of her heart as it slowed. A few more days might have pulled her into the sleep he spoke of. He slid his arm around her waist and dragged her up. She hooked her elbow behind his neck, and her legs swung with his strides as he carried most of her weight.
Crossing the threshold of the door made her feel oddly fearful. Leaving her prison to go to something unknown… to face the tyrant who kept her here. They descended the curving staircase and her bare feet scraped against the cold stone. Her muscles stung and burned but it felt good to use them for more than a few steps to the window.
“I’m going to warn you now,” Aldrich said once they reached the bottom of the stairs. “There are people here to see you.”
Why did “people” sound off? “Who? Aldrich, if it’s my aunt—if you ever cared about me even in the smallest amount, get her out of here. Please.” She always thought she was above begging but she would for Aunt Evalyn.
“It’s not her. She was gone when the soldiers got there. It appears someone warned her my father would be coming.”
She glanced over at him. “Someone?” Thane? Was that where he’d been? Had he made sure that her Aunt Evalyn and the rest of her hometown wouldn’t be butchered? The thought brought a small curve to her mouth. That must be why he hadn’t come yet… but then why was his voice in her head begging her to go to him?
A set of guards with the Palenor weapons sigil on their armored chests moved down the corridor toward them. The clink of their boots bounced off the walls in the otherwise serene space. They wore deep gray battle helmets, pointed at the center—unlike the Ravens’ winged helmets—shin guards that reached past their knees; one carried a long dark wooden staff. The chatter quieted the closer they drew. Their advance slowed and they stared at Layala with pity. Maker, she never wanted anyone to look at her like that. One of them opened his mouth as if he might say something but a low growl from Aldrich was enough to keep them on their way. These guards used to smile at her, now they looked afraid.
“I never found your gnome,” Aldrich said, continuing to half carry her toward their destination. “She might be safe.”
Tif was alright? A bit of the heaviness on her shoulders eased. At least that was something positive.
It was a few minutes before Layala recognized the hall they ended up in. Her room, the Starlight room, next to Thane’s chambers was around the corner. The suits of armor built into the alcoves, and the sprays of fresh wildflowers in silver vases set on stands were more familiar than anywhere else here. A place she would have called hers.
He stopped in front of her mahogany door, tugged the gold handle down, and pushed it open. “Reina and Pearl will be in to bathe and dress you in a couple minutes.”
She pulled out of his grasp and stepped forward, a sudden wave of strength and energy filling her. This room brought her a modicum of comfort in the agony of the last few weeks.
“And the servants’ entrance has been permanently disabled so don’t get any ideas.” His sympathetic stare made the hairs on the back of her neck raise. Like she was a bird with broken wings who’d never fly again. “I know you loved him.” He paused, and his jaw muscles quivered. “But so did I.”
Gulping down the pain, Layala said, “You don’t know what love is. Love for him would have put you in prison, not at Tenebris’s side.”
With a downcast gaze, Aldrich closed the door, the sound of it snapping shut brought a chill to her skin. She didn’t like closed doors anymore. She’d never been claustrophobic, but the creeping anxiety, filling her with dread, told her she was now. With a shake of her head, she brushed that feeling off as best she could, slid open the vanity drawer, and grinned at the round silver foil. “Thank you, Tifapine.” She tore open the six wrappers and shoved the first chocolate truffle into her mouth. It melted over her tongue like honey, and she closed her eyes as the sugar filled her with new life. She ate the others too fast to truly savor the delicious treats.
A quiet knock startled her. Her nervous hand slapped against her chest, and her rapid heartbeat whispered in her ears. She quickly shoved the empty wrappers inside and closed the drawer, keeping her hands tucked behind her back. She turned in time to see Reina and Pearl step inside. Her tense shoulders sagged, and tears sprang, blurring her vision. Reina put a hand to her chest and her chin trembled. Pearl rushed across the room and swept her into an embrace. Layala stiffened at first, then returned the hug, chest warming at their kindness. Theirs were the first friendly faces she’d seen in what felt like forever. Those tears she’d been holding back slid silently down her cheeks.
“Oh, my dear girl,” Reina said, slowly stepping toward her. “I’m so sorry.”
Reina ran and wrapped her arms tightly around Layala and Pearl. “We heard you were locked in that tower, and they hadn’t been feeding you,” Pearl said, her voice wavering. “So much has changed… I’m so sorry we couldn’t help you.”
Layala pulled away first, swiping her fingers over her wet cheeks. “There was nothing you could do.”
“We’re not supposed to give you anything, just bathe and ready you for breakfast with King Tenebris, but…” Reina pulled a white napkin out of her pocket. She lifted open the edges and inside a hunk of bread waited in her palm. She pushed it into Layala’s hand with a nod. “Eat it. We’ll draw you a bath.”
A sob caught in her throat as she took the bread. “Thank you.” Her voice sounded shattered, broken, so unlike before.
Layala sat on the soft, silky bed, eating the food slower than she had the chocolate. She touched the green vines that framed and wrapped around the bedposts and instinctually looked up at Tif’s hidden perch, hoping to see her there. It was dark and empty, like she felt inside.
Soon, Reina and Pearl guided her to a steaming bath. She didn’t protest as they gently removed her clothes and helped her into the gold clawfoot tub. She eased into the hot water, the feel of it soothing against her dirty, sore skin. Reina lathered citrus and lavender soap into her hair, the smell of it reminding her of the words she chanted in that tower room. The note Thane sent must have been stuck to her skin, it soaked into the water and the ink began to fade. She snatched it up and the fragile paper melted across her fingertips. Maker, no. Her body trembled with silent sobs as the only thing left of it was his name.
“What was that paper?” Pearl asked.
Layala stared as the last bit of ink turned into blotches that stained her broken nails and cut fingers until Pearl took her hands. She didn’t answer. Maybe it was a blessing that any evidence of Thane being alive wouldn’t fall into the hands of the enemy.
“What happened to your fingers, sweet girl?”
Layala swallowed hard at the memory. “I wanted out. I wanted—” Thane, but she didn’t say his name aloud.
Pearl swiped a strand of fire-orange hair out of her eyes, slowly shaking her head in sorrow. She dipped a sponge into the bubbly water and dabbed at Layala’s hands. Her eyes unfocused as her maids cared for her in a way she had never allowed before. Tears stung, how arrogant and rude she’d been toward them, yet they still doted on her.
“I told my son that we’d get to see you today. Sir Aldrich informed us last night,” Reina said. “My boy has been asking about you.”
“I didn’t know you had a son,” Layala said, wondering why she had never inquired before. “How old? What is his name?”
“Charlie is nine. It took many many years for us to be blessed with him.”
Pearl smiled. “He’s the sweetest little boy. He talks about how much he wants to meet you. You’re his idol.”
“Me?” Layala said surprised.
“Oh yes,” Reina answered, grinning proudly as if he was standing there beside her. “He always wanted to be a mage, you see. And he has black hair and blue eyes just like you. He’s a beautiful child, and he’ll be handsome when he’s grown.”
“Well, tell him I’d love to meet him—someday.” The “someday” lingered between them for long moments.
Reina cleared her throat. “When things get better—we must believe and have hope they will—you will meet him.”
Only when the bath cooled did Layala rise, drying herself with a towel. She stared at her reflection in the full-length gold-trimmed mirror. She wasn’t sure what she expected to see, maybe gaunt cheeks and protruding ribs, but her full breasts remained, even if her collar bones were sharper. Her strong, powerful thighs appeared more defined with the loss of some fat. The definition of muscle in her shoulders may have diminished some but not much. Her waist whittled inward a little and the roundness of her hips wasn’t quite as dominant as before but somehow, she kept her form as if her body refused to become thin and brittle. Perhaps some part of her magic was interwoven into every cell of her body and kept her strong.
She felt weak, but she didn’t look it. Her skin lacked the same bronzed glow and gone was the fiery fierceness in her gaze. The girl staring back at her was sad and hollow. Even she could see that. Who was this girl? Certainly not the Layala Lightbringer who fought against pale ones and destroyed those who tortured and would have killed her mate.
Reina draped a silky blue robe around Layala’s shoulders and sat her in a soft blue chair. She combed through the tangles of Layala’s hip-length, jet-black hair while Pearl added color to her cheeks and lips. Birds chirped outside the window and muffled voices from those walking below drifted up. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but there were many things Layala wanted to ask, and the chocolates and bread gave her enough energy to work up the nerve. “What is the High King saying happened to—” She glanced down at her wrist where the mate rune should be, where it had been all her life, only to stare at her unmarked skin. “Thane.” She hesitated to say his name out loud; it hurt too much.
Reina stopped combing her hair. Pearl’s dark eyes lifted to her partner’s. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. Reina cleared her throat and spoke first, “That King—er, Prince Thane was to be executed for treason because he tried to have King Tenebris killed for the throne.”
“That’s a lie,” Layala snapped. The fire she thought went out in her sparked if even just for a moment. “He did it because Tenebris wants to betray all of us to the Black Mage.”
Pearl’s eyes widened a little. “The Black Mage? You mentioned that when you first arrived… You still believe that is true?”
“I know it is.”
“When King Tenebris came back, we were all so surprised,” Reina started. “It happened the day the Ravens returned home from Doonafell. He came through the front doors wearing his crown, Sir Aldrich at his side. We were excited our High King was alive. Until he announced that Prince Thane tried to kill him. He started arresting those loyal to Prince Thane to question them. Then it went from questioning to executing them in the streets. Then we heard he was holding you in the tower. We’re all scared to death we’re next to lose our heads.” Reina sighed, lowering her voice. “But worst of all, I almost believed King Tenebris, too.”
Layala jumped out of her chair and whipped around to face Reina. “You don’t?”
Reina fidgeted with her fingers. “I saw something I think I wasn’t supposed to see.”
“What?” Both Layala and Pearl demanded.
“There is a…” She gulped. “A stranger here. I caught a glimpse of his hand, white as snow and black-tipped fingers.” Her voice wavered. “I think he might have seen me, too. He was covered in a cloak from head to toe, but he’d removed his glove. I fear he might be,” she broke off and shook her head.
“A pale one,” Layala finished.
Pearl gasped. “No, it can’t be.”
Reina looked around with wide worried eyes. “I don’t understand why King Tenebris would allow a cursed one inside the castle. What is happening?”
Goosebumps trailed over Layala’s skin. Her eyes flicked to the doorway leading to her bedroom. Mathekis, the leader of the pale ones… it must be. Thane said Tenebris made a deal with Mathekis long ago. Layala gripped Reina’s arm. “Listen to me. Tenebris wants to give me to General Mathekis for my magic. You remember when I told you that my parents died to get me away from the High King? They knew Tenebris would use me for evil. You see it now, don’t you? He wants the Black Mage to come back. I must get out of here.”
Pearl choked on a sob, covering her mouth. Terror flashed in Reina’s eyes, and she stumbled back a step as if even hearing his very name weakened her. “T-they’ve blocked the servants’ door. There is no other way out of this room other than the front and there are sure to be guards.”
Those were the only ways out using doors. As if she could just waltz right out of here. Layala dashed to the window and shoved it open. The green vines draping around the window frame could be long enough to at least get close to the ground. From there she might be able to scale the brick or jump. It wasn’t that far down. The most difficult part would be going unnoticed by the guards. They passed by at regular intervals.
Three heavy knocks sounded on the door. Shit. Layala whirled around and shoved a finger at the maids. “Don’t answer it.” She gulped, staring through the archway into her bedroom where someone waited on the other side. If Mathekis was here…
Pearl’s cries echoed off the marble-floored bathroom. Reina wrapped her arms around herself, backing into the corner. “We must,” Reina said. “King Tenebris will execute us if you leave. He’ll think we’ve helped. He’s already killed several personal servants of Prince Thane’s.”
Layala’s mouth dropped. “Why would he kill Thane’s servants?” The Ravens she could see but servants?
With the back of her hand, Pearl swiped at her red cheeks. “We don’t know, but we’re sure to be next.”
“Because he questioned their loyalty as he will ours,” Reina said.
A fist slammed on the door four times now, each with increased intensity. “Layala, are you ready? The High King is waiting and I’m afraid he’s not as patient as Thane was.”
Layala looked at her maids, at how afraid they were. Clenching her teeth together, she said, “Get me a dress. Quickly.”
