Page 7 of Dark Fae's Desires
“What?” I cry. “I don’t have the power to get out of here!”
“Can you. Manipulate. Feelings?”
I shudder. His creepy tone is really starting to freak me out. Now, I wish that he would stop talking and regret engaging him in conversation.
“No,” I state with a huff. “And even if I could, I would not.”
He laughs harshly. “Prissy, little child.”
There’s a clanking again and then I hear him shuffling along the dirt floor.
“So what if I could?” I shout into the darkness. “I am no match for Anders. Clearly, or I wouldn’t be in this shit hole to begin with!”
Silence again.
Now, I feel bad.
Dammit.
Turning, I walk to the other side of the cage, as far as I can and sit down. I draw my knees up and rest my forehead on them, trying desperately to stop the swimming in my head. His feelings are overwhelming me.
Time passes, who knows how long. Long enough for me to know that I’m doomed without a way to get myself out of here. My blood is tingling, needing to make good on the blood oath that Anders made me swear. But I would rather die than have that happen.
Sighing, I try to focus my thoughts by pressing the back of my hand against the bars. I hiss and it centers me briefly.
“Not the King. The girl.”
“What?” I ask, frowning into the darkness at the voice.
“She offered you a way out. Why not take it?”
My anger flares up as I stand abruptly. “I will not give my Kingdom to that silly diva-hoe! I will find another way.”
“YourKingdom?”
“Mine!” I spit out. “One day. Soon.”
“Pah,” hechortles.
I don’t say anything else. Surely, Gramps is trying to get me out of here.
“Gramps?”
“Huh?”
“Who is Gramps?”
I blink in the darkness. I must’ve muttered that out loud. “Drake. The Dark Fae King.”
“He can’t get you out of here.”
I glare into the dark.
“It’s not King against King in this fight. It’s mage against mage. Dark Fae mages are no better than Light Fae ones, and vice versa. The Light won’t let the Dark onto their land.”
“How doyouknow?” I ask, ignoring the fact that this is the longest sentence he has spoken.
“You are making me remember things, child,” he says, his tone full of malice. “I don’t wish to.”
