Page 15 of A Rising Hope

I twisted back, staring at the ceiling covered with wisteria flowers—a multitude of colors dropping from the arched beams, embellishing the entire room in greens, purples, pinks and whites. This bedroom was nicer than the dungeons I thought I’d spend my night in. The lavish oversized bed was comfortable, the soft feathered-stuffed duvets gentle on my body. The faded rosy wallpaper added a touch of whimsical femininity to the otherwise daunting palace.

If I had been here on any other occasion, I’d probably marvel at the intricate décor and majestic call of a Creator to beautify the world.

But as a prisoner, a stolen bargaining chip, shackled and lost, the colors and the luxury simply overwhelmed my already overworked mind.

A sharp bolt of lightning flashed behind the window and thunder crackled through the sky a moment later, startling me. The Queen’s shadows swirled at the sudden noise.

I sat up, no longer able to lie still, each cell in my body restless. My head felt like a ton of bricks, but my thoughts stayed sharp and clear, aware of the dangers lurking around.

The thick oily fog, as if alive, lingered in the corners of the room, watching me.

Gideon had seven days to surrender, and that meant I had only six days to convince the Queen to let me go. Six days to learn as much as I could about her. Six days to get her to trustme. Six days to have her accept me as her biggest, if not the only, ally.

Six days.

Large balls of ice pounded against the glass as the storm grew louder. Each heartbeat felt wasted as I stayed in this bed.

I wiggled my wrists—sore and aching from the heavy weight of the shackles—not willing to acknowledge the small bursts of panic at the sound of the chains each time I moved.

It too . . . It ALL shall pass, eventually.I just had to be patient. I had to be smart.I reminded myself when the memories became unbearable.Viyak was free. And Gideon—I closed my eyes for a moment, fighting back the fearful tears—Gideon and I were tied for eternity. Our love reached beyond death or any earthly horror.

Truly, there was very little I had to fear. I reassured myself, taking in a measured breath.

I took another look around the room. There were papers and pens on the small desk across the bed. I considered writing a letter but dropped that idea as quickly as it appeared, remembering the Queen’s watchful shadows’ gaze on me. Summoning Liriya was a risk too great for a few measly scribbled lines.

There was nothing resembling a weapon besides a glass pitcher and a matching crystal cup. I could maybe shatter one and use a shard as a weapon to cut. But I knew no weapon could truly help me. There was no point in having one.

I couldn’t kill the Queen even if I had the biggest arsenal in the world. Not when I knew the world would end with her wild magic released in one enormous wave.

All I had, and all I needed, was the knowledge I already possessed.

Knowledge. The Queen knewofme. She didn’tknowme. She didn’t know of my other powers that weren’t leashed by theBasalt Glass manacles. She didn’t know that shackles, chains, and suffocating captivity hadn’t broken me before and wouldn’t break me now. She didn’t know that I had lived, that I had survived terror over and over again. That I chose to endure, even when my mind turned on me and begged me to surrender.

I survived.

I moved a loose strand of my hair out of my face, tucking it behind my ear.

In Elvish chess, Tuluma always laughed at my favorite play, where the little, inconspicuous pawn got to the very end and became a powerful queen. She always thought it was a useless move, dragging the game on for too long to accomplish such a mission. But as a child, I loved it.

A scrawny pawn that survived through every battle, through the fights and deadly threats, made it across the checkered board to the end, to become a queen, often becoming the crucial piece to win the game.

I sniffled, wiping away a small tear that slipped past the icy walls that I constructed to keep my bleeding heart at bay, ensuring my whirlwind of emotions stayed locked far away.

Perhaps I, too, was a little pawn at one time, surviving through it all.

But it was time I made my own move, blindsiding the enemy at last.

I wiped my runny nose with the sleeve of the same shirt I had worn the night before. A shiver ran through my body at the memory of Gideon’s caress, followed by the horror of my vision of his death. Death by none other than the woman that held me captive.

This time I looked around the room differently.

No, I didn’t need a weapon.

I was one myself.

I let my righteous protector, my anger, ground me, settling the worry down.

A note of confidence slithered down my spine as I swallowed hard, letting primal instinct guide me. “This will do,” I mumbled, getting out of the bed from underneath the heavy blankets. I grabbed the half empty chamber pot. The shadows hissed around the door as I reached for the handle. “I need to empty this,” I whispered. “Do you mind showing me the way?” I gave them a kind, meek and innocent smile, one I had practiced a million times before.

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