Page 20 of Heart Cradle
Aeilanna met her eyes steadily. “You survive. Look after yourself and when they throw me back through that door, you help me. That’s the only way we both make it.”
Maeve ground her teeth. She hated it, but she understood. “Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll stay invisible. But I’m not promising I won’t break someone’s fucking jaw if they get too close.”
A flicker of something passed across Aeilanna’s face, not quite a smile, but close.
“That spirit is good,” Aeilanna said. “You’ll need it.”
Maeve drew her knees to her chest, fingers still gripping the pouch inside her pocket. The Chain pulsed faintly against the fabric. Somewhere beyond the stone walls, she could feel him, an ache, a pull. She wouldn’t, couldn’t say his name aloud, but she felt as if she needed him.
?????
The days that followed blurred into one continuous torment. At first, there was only silence. Long, oppressive hours stitched together by hunger, cold, and the slow drip of dread. Maeve barely spoke, realisation of her current predicament hitting her. She kept the pouch hidden deep in her pocket, slept with her hand curled protectively over it, her body coiled tight even in restless sleep. Every time footsteps echoed down the corridor, every time the door rattled on its hinges, her whole frame tensed, ready to run, ready to fight, but in reality neither of which were options.
Aeilanna never compelled conversation, she simply existed beside her, quietly. A folded cloth beneath Maeve’s head, a torn scrap of hard bread passed to her hand. A soft word, when the hours dragged heavy and grey. Despite the filth and neglect, Aeilanna carried herself with an unsettling calm. In passing, she told Maeve that she had once carried magic in her blood so potent she could bend the threads of the world into shields and songs and binding walls. Now, it was gone, crushed and she hadn’t touched her magic in years. Maeve told her very little in return. Just that she was from Earth, that she didn’t know what they wanted. She tried to make herself small, ordinary and forgettable. She kept the truth locked tight inside her chest, deep and close to the Chain.
But on the fourth day, everything changed. Maeve woke to the heavy door being thrown open. Two male guards, towering, thick-shouldered and their faces hidden behind iron helms entered. They moved with brutal purpose. Aeilanna stiffened and Maeve instinctively rose to her knees, every nerve flaring.
“Don’t look at them,” Aeilanna hissed. “Stay silent.”
Maeve dropped her gaze to the filthy floor. The guards didn’t touch her, they went straight for Aeilanna, hauling her up between them like she weighed nothing, the door slammed and she was gone. Hours passed, the dim light leaking under the door faded. Maeve sat with her back to the wall, legs pulled to her chest, the pouch pressed tight against her. She did not move, did not make a noise, just waited. Near dawn, the door burst open, they threw Aeilanna inside like bag of rubbish. She hit the stone hard, a ragged sound tore from her throat and Maeve scrambled to her knees, reaching instinctively, only to freeze when Aeilanna lifted a trembling hand.
The guards left without a word. Maeve stared, horror tightening her throat. Aeilanna’s thin dress was torn, soaked through with blood and grime. Bruises bloomed in dark, finger-shaped marks along her arms and neck. Her cheekbone was split open, a raw gash angling towards her eye, when she tried to shift, she gave a sharp, broken sound.
“Fuck,” Maeve whispered, breath catching.
She crawled closer, slowly, carefully. She laid the cloth beneath Aeilanna’s head.
Aeilanna’s eyes fluttered open. Dazed, but aware. “Water,” she rasped.
Maeve grabbed the chipped jug and lifted it carefully. Aeilanna drank slowly and when she spoke, it was barely more than breath. “If the male guards enter,” she said, “never make eye contact. Don’t speak. Don’t move unless they tell you to.”
Maeve’s fists clenched at her sides. “Why?” she asked, low and furious. “Why the fuck can’t I help you?”
Aeilanna’s bloodied hand brushed Maeve’s sleeve, a whisper of a touch. “Because you are human,” she said, so soft it barely reached the air. “Because…if you fight, you’ll die here.”
?????
Only one other person came and went, a female guard, always alone, always silent. Tall, slim but broad-shouldered. She was striking, her long red hair was plaited high on her head in a style that looked almost defiant.
Aeilanna called her Nolenne.
There was power in the way she moved, but it was buried deep. Like she had been muted, like someone had taken a wild thing and caged it, then taught it how to walk and talk. She didn’t speak at first. Every day she appeared with a small jug of brackish water and a miserable lump of stalebread, her boots scuffing softly against the stone. Her eyes, dark and heavy with things unsaid, lingered a moment too long on Aeilanna every time she set the tray down. She never met Maeve’s gaze, never acknowledged the bruises spreading darker across Aeilanna’s skin, but Maeve noticed her hands tremble as she poured the water. Noticed the way her jaw tightened when Aeilanna winced. The way she stood a fraction too long in the doorway, as if every instinct was screaming at her to stay.
Nolenne didn’t smirk or posture like the other guards. She carried herself like a blade forced to turn inward. The day Aeilanna returned beaten, she spoke.
“I’m sorry,” Nolenne said softly.
She crouched just outside the cell, hands braced on her knees, angled away as if she couldn’t bear to face them directly. “For the provisions and conditions, it’s not by choice.”
Maeve froze, the sound of her voice startled her, not cruel, not cold, but gentle and frayed at the edges. Aeilanna lifted her head. Bruised, bloodied, but still she offered a small, aching smile. “We know,” she murmured.
Nolenne flinched. The armour cracked, just a little. Her gaze flicked to Aeilanna and lingered, too long, too tender for strangers. Then she stood, stiff and abrupt, like the moment had slipped through her fingers. Just before she shut the door, she murmured, “Be careful what you say. The walls now listen.”
The door closed with a hollow thud but Maeve didn’t move, she sat in silence, the words echoing through her skull. That night, lying side by side on the cold stone, backs to the wall, Aeilanna spoke.
“She was conscripted,” she said barely audible. “As a child.”
Maeve turned her head slightly.
