Page 2 of Shadow's Raven

I’d seen fae from both groups throw themselves at her feet. The Seelie were supposed to be more inclined to lightness, to naturally feel a sense of righteousness, while the Unseelie had to fight the darkness within. Here, no one could tell the difference amongst the Queen’s handpicked court where every soul held some degree of taint.

The covetous eyes of the members of her court watched intently whenever she was near. She loved every second of their vulgar attention as much as she loved calling out those who did not meet her standard of envious regard.

The Queen’s countenance turned thoughtful, a virtuous face in contemplation as she inspected my silhouette before settling upon my bloodied lip. It would be so very gratifying to wipe that contrived look off her face.

Sersha was so much worse than my father had warned. She was an imposter, wearing her beauty like a cloak to hide the ugliness underneath. How could the fae of this land stand by and do nothing?

A true queen would love her subjects, not tolerate their existence. Not play with their lives. Not steal one away from the kitchens solely because she’d taken note of the looks given by her consort—a consort who likely had a roaming eye because his Queen hadn’t respected him enough to name him King.

Sersha sighed. “Is it money you desire? Land? A job to get you out of the kitchens? I can give you all three.”

I communicated nothing in return. Little by little, lines appeared on her face until she looked like someone had used purse string sutures to close her mouth.

I hadn’t come to Ansley Keep to find wealth, much less to humor this lunatic. I wished I’d never left Father and Kol, even though I’d hated that place. No, that wasn’t completely accurate. I hated watching a male of worth live with the ghost of the shrew that was my mother.

A nameless feeling had compelled me to leave home less than a year back, one so pressing and persistent it nearly drove me mad. Father had preached my entire life to never ignore the little voice screaming from within. So I listened, and it pointed me towards Ansley Keep.

Confessedly, much to my own chagrin, I’d also been morbidly curious about the Fae Queen. Curious if either of us would feel the connection few, not even the vile despot herself, knew we shared.

She’d never given any indication she knew who I was. Not even now, as she walked the room mumbling and hissing to herself. It was the first hint Sersha had shown of mania. I was uneasy but I hadn’t folded. At least I hadn’t let my family down in this one regard.

It should never have come to this, my inner witch admonished.

Father was hesitant to support my journey to the keep. He was even more hesitant to repeat the mistakes he’d made with my mother, who’d accused him of trying to cage her. Circe was his only blind spot and we’d fought over it often.

We’d agreed a lowly job outside Ansley’s walls would keep me out of Sersha’s notice. If my spelling magic hadn’t been potent enough to mute the strength of my power, or if he’d known I would purposefully end up inside the Keep, he’d have done his best to force me to stay home.

How pompous and assuming I’d been.

What would my father and brother think if they could see me like this, bound and kneeling in Sersha’s secret room? I could almost hear my father’s lecture, reminding me that Ulriks did not get taken prisoner. He’d taught me better than to get caught in yet another spider’s trap. If he found out, he’d do something foolish to save me, probably dragging my twelve-year-old brother into it.

Thank Hecate I’d had the sense not to share my past with anyone here. No one knew I was from Terek.

I’d gladly take my father’s lecture once I freed myself, something I needed to figure out soon. I should have figured a way out already. Unfortunately, I was never left alone when brought to this space. My cell, down in the lower levels, was escape-proof, covered in iron and spelled by someone powerful. My best bet to get away was when they transported me to or from the Queen.

Or, preferably, if I could get Sersha to touch me. She was always careful, only coming close enough to strike with her weapon. It was smart of her. I did have a few tricks up my sleeve, but in my weakened state, our skin would have to touch for me to use them.

As she paced with growing agitation, I allowed my eyes to roam. Maybe I’d missed something I could use to my advantage. The room was small and devoid of furniture aside from a single chair in the center and a sturdy table in the corner. Four small window slits, too narrow to fit a body, lined the wall to my right. A variety of loops, secured to the stone floors, walls, and ceilings in various spots, were used to secure prisoners.

That was it. No tools. No weapons rack. Nothing. This wasn’t the real torture chamber. It was the watered-down version.

There was only one purpose to the room. It was where Sersha did her best to coerce her victims and mete out what she thought of as justifiable punishment when they didn’t bow to her whims. She got off on feeling like she had a hand in such things, as though she were the one breaking her captives’ spirits.

She wasn’t. The serious pain came courtesy of her minion, Dolan, deep in the bowels of Ansley Keep. The Queen didn’t have the stomach to do the real dirty work.

Sersha had yet to realize most of the servants knew of this room’s existence, just as they knew of what happened in the dungeon. They ran around with their heads down so as to never call attention to themselves. It was shameful to use fear as a way to control others.

Her fingers snapped in triumph.

“Do you have a mate? Or are you under terms of a betrothal?” Sersha’s sing-song voice scaled higher, sounding like she’d stumbled upon the answer to the world’s greatest riddle. “I can assure you it won’t be an issue. Malcolm and I are nothing, if not discreet. Your male will never know.”

I thought my opinion of her couldn’t possibly sink any lower. I was wrong.

“No,” I answered honestly.

The fae races were incapable of lying and used word games to circumvent the issue. Being a halfling, I’d not fully inherited this inconvenient trait. It pained me greatly to tell a falsehood, but I could manage it. Though, I saw no point in playing at any pretense.

“I do not have a mate, nor am I living under the terms of a betrothal,” I continued, choosing to make it crystal clear my refusal came because it was my right to do so, not because I’d made a promise to some male.

---