Page 37 of The Jester

I expect Maura to tell me I’m right, and laugh. But she doesn’t. She just meets my eyes and, stoically, says, “You underestimate my hatred of the woman who broke you, Kayan.”

The door to the dungeon creaks open, causing the guard to leap up from his chair.

“Henrik...” A petite, dark-haired fae with small wings offers the guard a large smile. She is blushing.

“Briony.” Henrik grins back, adjusting his belt in a way that makes me shudder a little. Not because he is an unattractive person, but because he is an unattractive soul. He has shown no care for us, no interest, no acknowledgement that we are anything other than ants to be squashed.

“I brought rations.” Briony offers up a hessian sack, tied with string, and a flask of what looks like water.

Henrik takes them and strides over to us. Taking a large iron baton from his belt, he bangs the bars unnecessarily loudly. “Wake up, sleepy heads,” he barks.

“I don’t think anyone was sleeping,” I reply, moving into his field of vision.

He narrows his eyes at me, then shoves an arm through the bars, offering me the sack. “Hand these out.” He follows by giving me the water, too.

“This is all?” I ask, weighing the sack up and down in my hand. “For twenty of us?”

Henrik pauses, his eyebrows almost touching his hairline as his eyes widen. “Shall I take it back?” He moves to open the cell door.

“No, no, thank you,” I force myself to say through gritted teeth. “We are grateful for your... hospitality.”

As the others stand and watch, I open the sack and peer inside. “Bread,” I say bluntly. “But not much of it.” I stoop down and tip it onto the floor, then Maura helps me divide it into twenty minuscule portions while the water is passed around with the instruction to drink only a little until everyone has had a sip.

We eat our bread in silence. Mine hasn’t touched my lips yet when my eyes land on Raine. With dark skin and dark hair, she is a powerful fire fae. She is also pregnant. I call her name and hold out my ration. She is within touching distance, and after hesitating, nods in quiet gratitude and accepts my offering.

“What’s up with your wings?” Henrik’s voice drifts over from where he is standing, sipping coffee, watching us. “They don’t look like the rest.” He jerks his head at the other Leafborne.

My jaw twitches. I do not owe this man an explanation.

“The woman your lord took up to his castle, that’s what happened.” Maura, however, answers for me. “She destroyed him. Took his powers. Drained him of his magic, and his senses. Took him years to even speak like himself again.”

“Maura . . .” I warn. “Please.”

Henrik’s eyes widen a little. He rubs his chin, then glances at Briony, who is sitting by his desk with her own mug of coffee. I can’t read the expression on her face, but something tells me this information means something to her.

“Is that so?” Henrik shakes his head. “Well, well. She sounds special, indeed.”

I flex my wings. They ache with the sudden need to stretch wide and be free.

“She took your magic?”

“She didn’t take it. It doesn’t belong to her. It’s just...” I trail off. I shouldn’t be telling this man anything, but somehow I cannot help coming to Alana’s defence.

Taking a moment to steady my breathing, I move as close to the bars as I can, and fix my gaze on Henrik. “My wings aren’t dissimilar to yours.”

His expression doesn’t change but, behind him, Briony’s wings twitch uncomfortably.

“You’re Shadowkind?” I give a jerky nod, taking in his withered wings and the sallow tint to his skin. “Which means Eldrion owns you.”

Henrik’s fingers tighten on his coffee.

“Does he treat you well?”

“Quiet,” Henrik mutters, rolling his eyes. But everything about his demeanour tells me I’m unnerving him.

“Have you never thought about escaping? Surely, there’s nothing stopping you?” I frown at him, then gesture to the door. “You could walk out right now. You’re not in chains. So, why are you here?”

“We can’t leave.” Briony stands up and strides past Henrik. Her eyes are wide, and she is clasping her mug tightly between her thin fingers. “He owns us. Do you know what that means?”

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