Page 73 of The Iron Fae
"Look where that got me? Now tell me how... how was I supposed to know that your brother was going to betray me to the Queen of the Shadow Court in exchange for a loveless marriage? You're his blood andyoudidn't even know."
"We're not talking about that, right now." Lincoln's hand fists and he hits himself in the forehead, closing his eyes tightly. "I can't believe my brother. I'll wring his neck when I get out of here."
"Ifyou get out of here."
"We're getting out of here," he says sternly.
"Alright, if you say so." I shrug. I run my sweaty palms over my skirt, no longer caring if I made myself a mess. After a moment of silence, I whisper, "Do you think Rowan made it out?"
"I--" His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. "I hope so."
Quiet voices carry up to our cages. I don't need to press myself against the bars and burn my face to know that Cordelia's crowd is arriving. Servants stand at the ready with trays holding arrangements of bubbling drinks and food. Their scent mixes with sweat, blood, and magic inside my cage.
There is a moment of awe as they look up at the spectacle of us above them. Not one of them are the court members I'd met earlier in the day. Which leads me to wonder if this is the rest of her court or if there are truly that many Fae here ready to worship at her undeserving feet.
The room fills with Fae in their finery. Bellion stands near the throne, running a long skinny hand down his jacket as he watches the crowd. I look from him to Lincoln.
"Bellion was behind all the killings. Why is he still walking around like a free man?"
"I was... working on that," Lincoln says with an edge to his voice.
"I'm sure he'll be pleased to see this th—”
Our cages jolt from their positions against the ceiling. Both my hands instinctively fall against the iron to catch me, searing my palms with its poison. Lincoln's eyes widen as he looks at me. Fear rallies in the back of his mind but I can feel him fighting to stifle it down. Perhaps I'm the same way. Scared of death but refusing to acknowledge it.
"It's going to be okay," he says with determination through gritting teeth.
"Is that supposed to calm me or you?" I cradle my burning hands against my chest, barely able to hiss out the words.
"Both." He nods, holding on to the bars.
He looks the part of a criminal.
It's oddly attractive.I think all too quickly, trying to dismiss the thought so disconnected from my reality. Lincoln gives me a small smirk.
Dirt is embedded under his nails and smudged against his cheeks. His hair is both messily tossed on top of his head and matted to it. He's shirtless and breathing hard, his yellow eyes glowing with a dare.
Faces grow nearer as we descend. Their features are so well masked with excitement it takes me a minute to see their worry. Cordelia might think she has their loyalty, but fearful people will never be loyal until they feel safe. Fae smile up at us, but it's in their worried glances to one another that I find the mixed emotions. The gentle graze of hands giving out comforting touches. Mother's calling to their children to keep them close.Yes, Cordelia's opened up this part to all ages no matter the gore.
Cordelia, my death is going to be rated R because I'm not going down without a fight.
The world is no longer the haze of the drugged drink given to me by Kai. I can see everyone's faces so clearly. I can move so smoothly once again. The only thing keeping me from feeling my best at the foot of my death is the bastardly iron surrounding me, burning me.
As the cages come to a halt again, dangling just a few feet off the ground now, my legs are jostled, peeling skin that's melting into a sticky mess against the metal. A groan, I'd rather not allow, leaves me.
"So this is your Mortal Queen?" Bellion saunters forward, announcing to the crowd. "She doesn't look so powerful to me." The gangly man reaches through the bars, trying to lift my chin. I shift out of the way and he laughs. His long fingers snatch up a bar in the absence of my skin and he pulls then pushes my cage, spinning me violently.
There's nothing for me to do but hold on and hold down the nausea building in my stomach and rising like acid up my throat. Faces, decorations, the flash of lights all come and go. They blur together.
"Bellion, you fucking bastard, don't you dare touch her!" Lincoln bares his teeth, spitting his words out like thunder.
"Oh, Lincoln," the queen's right-hand man purrs, "You'll be dead before long and you'll no longer be a worry I need to babysit. The least you could do is make your death quiet for us."
Still, Bellion, juts out an arm. My exposed back, my wings, slam against the bars and my body stings with the burning blight of fire. The room doesn't move any longer, but I can't will myself to open my eyes.
"I'm fine, Lincoln. He'll have to do more than take me on a child's ride to hurt me," I manage.
There’s an angry haze inside Lincoln's head. Unbreakable and focused on his frustration. He keeps his attention on Bellion. With one violent kick of his boot, Lincoln forces his cage to swing forward and he wraps his hand up in Bellion's white shirt, dragging the Fae back with him as momentum carries the cage backwards.
