Page 135 of A Song of Air
She choked on the stench of it, gagging as the iron coated her tongue. She heaved and kicked out, but they wrenched her arms behind her. She howled in pain, and the lenses on her face slid down, nearly falling from position.
The scenery shifted as she was hauled back. The once green meadow changed. Darkness seemed to coil around them. Clouds grayed. Thunder bellowed. Bryson held back her scream as a pit opened beside them. The earth caved in on itself, a great tremor shaking through the ground. The guards restraining her held her still as a ravine opened and the stench of mud, rot, and decay filled her nostrils.
“Into the pit,” the queen commanded.
Bryson didn’t even have time to scream as the guards shoved her into the gaping hole and she fell.
And fell.
And fell.
Den of Monsters
The wind knocked outof her chest as she landed on her back. There was a crack that reverberated through her ears, and she was sure she’d broken a bone. But with the pain radiating through her whole body, she couldn’t be sure which bone she’d broken.
Too stunned to even move, she lay in the wet mud, gasping for breaths that were too slow to make it to her lungs. Her vision had gone blurry once again, the lenses on her face had fallen somewhere in the muck beneath her. She wanted to reach for them, and her fingers twitched with every intention, but she couldn’t.
Foul-smelling mud invaded her senses. It reminded her of when she’d first landed, but this was somehow worse. It coated her eyelashes, and she blinked it away, staring up at the darkening sky.
There was a clang, and something fell from above the ravine next to her body. The smell of overripe fruit entered her nostrils, mingling with the stench of muck.
From above, the queen peeked over the edge. Bryson could only make out a blurry form, but she could imagine the cruelty dripping from her voice.
“Eat the fruit, little blind Fae.”
Bryson gasped and found strength enough to push herself to a sitting position. Every bone in her body ached, and she wondered how many she’d broken. Her wrist felt extra sensitive, and she cradled the limp part to her chest.
“Fuck,” she hissed, feeling the ache in the back of her neck as she looked up at the queen. She gave her the most defiant glare she could muster. Her other hand landed beside her, squelching in the mud, as her fingers absently searched for the lenses. Her fingertips met the cold metal and glass, and she quickly brought them up to her face and adjusted them one-handed.
They were covered in muck, but they helped her see.
“Perhaps you just need a little persuasion,” the queen purred from above. “A little exercise to work up your appetite.” Then she stepped back, away from Bryson’s line of vision.
Bryson glared up, her head whipping back and forth all along the wide, maze-like distance of the ravine. No one peeked over the edge again.
Her heart began thumping wildly in her chest and fear slid down her back. She pushed herself to a stand, purposefully stepping on the Unseelie fruit as she walked over to the edge of the ravine. The walls, while solid, were made entirely of mud. It was slimy, slipping down in clumps.
