Page 25 of Cages and Crowns
“Breathe, Enzo.” I remind him. His eyes hold mine, and I can see it. I can see the stupidity—the recklessness—pass across his face. “Don’t—” Before I can stop him, he pushes my arms away, his fingers turning into talons before a sharp burst of black light replaces his body. When it fades, a single raven is in his place. His bright green eyes look at mine once, before he flaps his wings and barrels into the hallway.
Chapter Thirteen
The Caged
My head is on fire, it’s burning and throbbing as if it’s been lit alongside firewood. I can taste the blood in my mouth, thick and metallic as it coats my tongue, making it hard to swallow. I try to open my eyes, but they feel swollen and unresponsive. My pulse skips and I fight the panic brewing in my chest. I try to move, begging my limbs to cooperate. I can feel my arm twitch, as if it’s waking up, before I feel the prick of something in my leg. I flinch as ice spreads through my veins, and then the darknesscomes again.
I can feel something wet on my face, a cloth, as someone wipes at my skin. Soft, and slow humming fills my ears as someone cleans me. I try to force my eyes to part, but they still fail to respond. I can hear rustling as the cloth pulls away. I fight to inhale as water is poured over my head, my scalp stinging in response.
I feel cold. So cold.
“You can’t be in here, miss.” Someone says. I think it’s Lydia, but I can’t tell. I hear rustling, heels smacking the marble floors, before a cold hand grabs mine. “Miss—"
“You need to help me, Elaenor. Please.” A panicked, lyrical voice flits around me, one that sounds so familiar but so foreign, and then I am gone again.
“Nora,” his voice is soft, a whisper. His fingers brush my cheek and I try to pry my eyes open to see him. “Stay strong, Nora.”Theo. My mind screams as I fight as hard as I can to see him, to keep him here. “I love you.”
“I think he’s going to kill me. Please, wake up.Please.” Someone is shaking me. I feel so warm. I feel as if I am on fire. I groan as I beg my body to cooperate with my pleas to move. My eyes finally part just enough to see fiery red hair and eyes such a deep green that they remind me of home. Her brows are furrowed, there are bruises across her hairline, and I can see just a little spattering of dried blood on the edge of her mouth. My eyes close against my will and she shakes me again. “Elaenor.” She whispers, and I can feel her hands trembling as they hold onto mine.
“Nylah?” I whisper, my throat protesting.
“Please, Elaenor. He’s going to hurt the baby. He’s going to hurt my son.” She sounds so sad, so broken and desperate. I want to help her, but I can’t. All I can do is sleep.
Croaking. I hear a deep, demonic sounding croak echoing around the room. My eyes open to a marble ceiling and I find I am in my bed. Bright sunlight filters through the windows, reflecting off the shiny walls, illuminating the empty room. A chill runs down my spine, causing an involuntary shiver. I’m freezing and glance down to see I’m naked, not a stitch of clothing on my body, but there’s also no chains.
There are fresh bruises and cuts along my stomach and thighs. TheTbrand on my stomach is as bright as ever. Bones poke through my skin, alluding to my obvious malnourishment. I look around the empty room and see that the balcony doors are open. The sky is a bright blue, not a single cloud to be seen, but that’s not what pulls my attention. A single raven is sitting on the railing, staring at me. Watching me as if it has more than a bird’s intelligence.
I sit up and wince as my unhealed cuts stretch. My head is pounding and heavy, as if it is filled with stones. My hand reaches up and I feel something cold and sharp. Something familiar. My other hand joins as I feel around my head, the pain is almost all-consuming. It feels as if something was sewn to it. I pull at the metal and cry out as my scalp feels like it’s ripping.
Because it is.
Oh Gods.
I slide out of the bed, the icy marble nearly causing me to slip as I collapse into the vanity. My crown is sewed to my head, the diamonds stained slightly crimson.My hair is wrapped around the metal of the diadem, frizzy and untamable waves knotted around it.
“No.” I whimper, disbelief coating my tongue like ash. I grab the brush off the vanity, trying to smooth out my inky tresses, but all it does is yank on thestitches. Tears form in my eyes, and I throw the brush down, knocking cosmetics onto the floor. “This can’t be happening.” A broken sob escapes my mouth and I bury my head in my hands.
He is mad.Insane.
Hesewedmy crown onto my head because I forgot to wear it. We had a great night, a perfect and normal night. He made me feel safe, and happy. And then in the morning he defended me without hesitation. He ensured my safety and cared for me. He acted as if he truly loved me, but this—this isn’t love. This is control, this is power.
This is madness.
The croaking behind me makes me flinch as I remember the strange bird. I hear flapping and whirl around as the raven comes directly towards me, its wings beating furiously. I duck out of the way as it almost hits me, nearly scratching my face. The tiny black bird slams into the vanity mirror and lands in a lump on top of the dark wood. I stare at its lifeless body for a moment before it stirs. The raven pulls itself up and shakes out its wings before it turns and looks at me.
“What do you want, bird?” I cry out. Its intelligent eyes are green, a super bright, almost bioluminescent green that seems familiar. It’s staring at me as if it knows me, as if its human. It’s eyes drift from my scalp to my stomach before its pupils widen in what could almost be mistaken for shock. I glance down at my naked body, the brand and unhealed wounds on full display, before quickly grabbing the dressing robe on the back of the chair with shaky hands.
It’s just a bird, why do I feel so indecent?
Once the robe is fastened, I stare at the raven again. There is a green sheen to its inky feathers, glowing in the sunlight streaming in from the windows. I hesitantly reach out and it stays still as my fingers brush one of its wings. They are soft, silky. It closes its eyes briefly, as if it is enjoying my touch, before reopening them.
“Hello.” I say softly. Its wings open and shake, and I jump back before it has the chance to come near my face again. It hops up in the air before landing onmy hand. The little beak pecks at my palm, tickling the sensitive skin. “Who are you?” I ask as it jumps off my hand, and back onto the vanity.It uses its beak to pull at the drawers, digging through them and throwing things around.
“What are you doing?” I almost yell out, but my voice comes out as a confusion-soaked rasp. The raven digs through until it finds a pot of lip stain. It yanks it out of the drawer and points at it expectantly with its beak. I raise my eyebrows in confusion, a bewildered giggle building in my throat, before hesitantly bending down and pulling the cork out of the tiny pot. It sticks its beak in the crimson lacquer immediately before hopping back onto my arm. I stand frozen as this tiny bird wipes its beak along my arm.The red paint leaves streaks on my skin and I stare at it in both shock and awe. It jumps off my arm and I glance at the marks left behind.
Four tiny lines across my wrist.
E.
