Page 14 of A Cage of Magic and Darkness

I have no choice but to fight physically.

One guard grabs my arm, and I manage to swing my elbow and catch him in the jaw, sending him flying backward. Another launches himself at me, and I throw a punch, my knuckles connecting with his nose with a satisfying crunch.

Rich, red blood sprays from the injury, a couple of droplets hitting my skin. The distraction is enough for two more guards to slam straight into me, knocking me hard to the stone floor. All the air bursts from my lungs, and it’s as though an iron band has wrapped around my chest, preventing my ribs from expanding to draw another breath.

The guards seem unaware of this as they haul me back to my feet. They yank my arms behind my back and clip heavy metal cuffs around my wrists. All the fight has gone out of me, but I’m still indignant about the way they’re manhandling me. Don’t they know who I am?

“I’m your prince,” I spit when I’m finally able to draw breath. “Unhand me this instant.”

They don’t reply. I understand they have the same kind of distaste for me as my father has. On the other side of my bed, both guards come with yells of pleasure and dismay.

I’m dragged down the corridors, torches burning tolight the way. Staff catch sight of us, scullery maids, and handmaidens, and flee as though a battle is on its way.

Perhaps it is.

What the hell is my father planning to do with me? Would he have me killed?

I’ve always believed he won’t go so far, but now I wonder. I am his only son. His only child. He might not like me very much, but would he really wipe out his own bloodline? Except maybe he doesn’t see me as his bloodline, or at least he sees me as having polluted it.

Would he rather see me dead than passing on my genes?

The guards haul me into the Great Hall. I’m unsurprised to find my father sitting on his throne, his expression impassive about his only son being thrown to the floor at his feet. His new wife sits beside him. Can I use my magic on her? If I do, is that more or less likely to get me killed?

Slowly, I get to my feet. I’m trembling with rage at being treated this way.

“What is the meaning of this, Father?” I demand.

His face is as rigid as ice. “Your plot has been exposed.”

“Plot? I have no plot.”

His wings vibrate with his fury, shimmering like starlight on the ocean. The hum of the vibration fills the air.

I experience a pang of remorse, of regret. What would I have been if it had been that side of me that had been expressed in my genetic makeup? Would my father have hated me so much if I’d been more like him?

“One to have the queen and her child killed?”

I grimace. “Oh, that one.”

I don’t correct him that he’s only half right but how does he even know that much?

The why and how comes to me. I’d believed no one had the talent to mindread, but I’d been wrong about that, at least in part.

“You had someone read my thoughts?”

He scratches his fingers through the silvery strands of his beard. “You’re like an open book, Ruarok. Adisgustingopen book.”

“Thinking something isn’t the same as acting on it. If I’d have wanted to have the girl killed, then I would have. I’d had other plans for Queen Lorith.” I smirk.

“She is your stepmother and your queen,” he snaps. “You will treat her with respect.”

I can’t help myself. I snort. “My stepmother? She’s not much older than I am.”

“She’s still your queen.”

My queen. I like the sound of that. Except I want to be the one sitting on the throne. Not scrambling around on the floor like a nobody. This was never supposed to be my destiny.

“A part of me wants to make an example of you,” Father continues. “I should have you taken to the city square and strung up and left to hang until your flesh falls from your bones. Traitors to the kingdom would be treated no differently.”

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