Page 6 of Reigning
And I’ll keep forcing it until I’ve won.
* * *
That night I did not win, though.
“It’s just protocol. You understand.” Ellise clicked the lock in place on my cell in the darkness of the dungeon.
Protocol. An evil queen has protocols.
Sure. I understand.
“I don’t see how this is helping us trust one another.”
I tilt my chin up, and she holds my gaze with a look of pure kindness.
“Trust will come. Give it time, Arlow.”
She doesn’t give me time to say another word as her long dress wafts over the icy brick floor and she starts up the stairs. Rime lingers there on the other side of the bars, studying me for a moment. It makes that stupid hope inside me rise.
Just for him to trample it right back down when he turns and follows behind her.
Ah, the queen is taking her most loyal pupper on a walkie.
I’m so bitter it’s pathetic.
A door from upstairs closes with a heavy thump, and dim lighting flickers around the room. The sigh that parts my lips doesn’t ease the tension in my chest or my shoulders.
I pace the little cell for about an hour before finally letting my back meet the wall and sliding down until my ass hits the cold floor. The magic that streams through me isn’t violent. The queen has taken care to make sure no ill-will magic can be used within these cells. The magic I use now is to protect myself, not from her, but from the freezing temperatures of this land. Tingles spread through my body as heat flares to life within my bones until I no longer feel the frost seeping into my thin dress.
It’s still bloody. It’s still covered in Sinister’s blood, and it only reminds me of the small moment of love I’d felt when he’d kissed me and sliced his hand.
Just to summon a queen I should have forgotten about. If I’d listened to Rime for once, none of this would have happened.
Goddess, I can’t ever say that out loud because his inflated beast ego can’t handle another boost of confidence right now.
“She’ll break you,” a crawling voice says from the shadows.
My spine straightens as the feeling of a spider walks down it.
I don’t answer the voice. It’s probably best not to engage when you hear creepy crawly voices in a dungeon.
“I said”—the scratching voice grows louder—“she’ll break you.”
“I heard you,” I growl back at the stranger.
“Well, speak up. That’s what’s wrong with your generation: never had to speak for yourselves. Always leaving it to someone else to clean up your messes. The mage economy is crashing, speak up, for crying out loud.”
Oh my goddess, I can’t handle this right now. It’s like she’s a less smutty version of Agatha.
Wait. She’s a mage.
“I was told there’s three elder mages in Attika. Are you one of them?”
“I am.” Her simple words carry for a moment in the large room. Her tone is quiet, and a bit of sadness stings her voice. “The other two mages are quieter. You lose your hope and you’ll lose everything here,” she tells me with that same shaking sound. “The former king in the cell at the very end, he has a bit of hope left. Not much, but a little.”
I part my lips but I’m not sure what to say to all of that information. The former King of Attika was Ellise’s brother. She imprisoned her own brother?
She didn’t kill him, so I guess that’s a good sign.
