Page 42 of Owned By the Fae
I look around the room for anything that I can use to defend myself, and my eyes alight on some gravel in the corner from where the wall on that side of the keep has begun to crumble, and no one's fixed it.
There are several large shards. I pick them up and hold them in my hand. They’re not much, but they'll have to do. I sit on my bed, my spine ramrod straight.
I hear steps down the corridor, and I tense as the door opens, but I hear a woman’s voice on the other side.
More servants.
Two fae girls who don’t even glance my way enter the room with another guard who looks bored. They’re talking in low voices with each other. At first, I ignore them, but my ears perk up as I hear one of them mention Varrik. I strain to listen as they work, and I learn that Varrik received a message a few minutes ago and left the fold soon after.
He's not here. This could be my chance.
If I can just get to Kallum ... I close my eyes and stifle a laugh. Even if I find him, what canhedo? Whatwillhe do? I consider this for a moment. Do I think he’ll help me? He seemed to care at least a little in Rondorai. I sigh. Beggars can’t be choosers. I have no one else besides Jak, and he’s just a young lad. I can’t put him in danger any more than I can Ryon.
The servants leave after the tub is emptied, giggling between them as they go and throwing amused looks over their shoulders at me. I just wait, my mind feverishly working towards a plan.
I stare at the bars on the window and not for the first time. It’s the only way out of here other than the door. I tried them once before I escaped the first time, and they never moved, but perhaps … I glance at the other parts of my room again. Almost a decade has passed since my last attempt, and the areas of the keep that weren’t rebuilt after the fire are clearly worse for wear. The same wall as the grate is practically falling to pieces.
I go to the window. If I can get one of the bars out of the way, I can probably squeeze through. I pull at one with all my might, and my heart lurches as it twists very slightly with a creak. My eyes widen as I look behind me, listening for any steps in the hall before I take the largest rock in my hand and smash it against where the wrought iron goes into the weakened mortar. It takes a few strikes, and my hand is bleeding freely where I’ve caught my fingers on the rough stone, but I see a small crack.
I pull at the bar, jiggling it in its housing and breaking more of the crumbling mortar off. I work at it slowly, scraping away until late afternoon, and just as I’m losing hope of ever getting it out, it gives way suddenly, the bottom of it coming away from the stone with a jerk that makes me lose my grip, and I thud to the hard floor. I groan at the pain that radiates through my body as I push myself to my feet, and I see that the bar is still in the window at the top, but it’s a bit bent now and not attached at the bottom. It's not enough to pull it out, but if I twist it, I can ease it to the side slightly, and it might just be enough for me to climb out.
I hear the door, and I freeze. I’m out of time. If I try to go now, I’ll be caught.
I make myself put the bar back in place with shaky fingers, throwing the bits of mortar that have come off out into the moat below and hoping no one notices that the middle bar isn’t as straight as it was before I can escape the room.
I hear Rikoth’s voice and shudder. Unlike Vern, who I know would take pleasure in forcing me physically, who’d use brute strength to subdue me, Rikoth will delve into my mind and make me do what he wants me to do. The thought of it is even more abhorrent than him holding me down or hitting me. Being made to do what he wants, being trapped in my own mind ... I shiver. I need to stop him before he has the chance to take hold.
The door cracks open, and as soon as I see his face, I throw a stone. It bounces off the corner of the door, and I throw another right as he comes in.
Luck appears to be on my side. I catch him right over one of his eyes, and he lurches back with a yell. I see a flash of blood, and he closes the door with a slam and a vicious curse. Breathing hard, I don't move from the bed. I wait, my arm poised to throw another. I hear a commotion outside and Jak’s voice saying loudly that the wound needs to be cleaned because humans carry diseases. I chuckle at that and send a silent thanks to him for trying to delay Rikoth.
I feel the elite at the fringes of my mind trying to gain entrance, and I steel myself to him, hoping that he won’t be able to get a hold of me if he’s not in my line of sight. A few seconds pass while he tries to gain purchase in my mind, and I hear Jak again.
‘There’s blood all over your face,’ he says, sounding frustrated. ‘You can’t go in there with an open injury. Gods only know what maladies the human carries. You don’t want to lose that eye, do you? Let me take you to Healer Skith. He’ll be able to close the wound more quickly than I. It won’t take long.’
Rikoth mutters his ascent, and I hear them leave, but I don’t relax.
I glance out at the sky. The sun is still too high. If I try to go now, the guards will see me drop into the mote. I need to wait.
I hear someone at the door again a little while later, and I move from the bed, getting ready to defend myself again, another rock in my hand. I've only got three left, but it's a servant who comes in a bit warily with the dinner tray. I let out a small sigh of relief, and I wait for her to leave. I pad across the room and look in the bowl. Stew. I haven't been fed real food in days, and I need all the strength I can get. I fall on it ravenously,eating it quickly with the bread and barely noticing that it’s stale this time.
When it's all gone, I sit back on the bed, and I keep staring at the door, waiting for the sun to go down low enough to blind the guards on the wall so that I can get away.
But within minutes, my sight begins to get hazy, and I find myself swaying. My eyes cut to the empty bowl on the tray, and I realize with dread that Rikoth has changed his tactics.
He’s decided to subdue me another way. I stand up, panicking, but even my alarm is muted already. I need to get out of the room before he comes.
I go to the window and twist the bar, half afraid that it will be stuck again, and I won’t be able to get it out. But it moves and turns, and I’m able to shimmy through, ignoring the pains that shoot through my body as I do.
I lever myself onto the outer sill and look down at the murky water of the moat, battling my terror at the keep’s brackish line of defense. There’s no other way. My stomach churns, but at least Icanswim if I need to. That isn’t the problem, after all. I take a breath and stop thinking about why I’m afraid. I don’t have any more time to waste.
I let myself drop, hoping the moat is deep enough that I won't break any more of my bones during my escape and that the sun is low enough.
I gasp as I fall through the air and hit the dark water with a plop. It’s actually deeper than I presumed. More frigid too. My body freezes, cold, fear, and shock crippling my thoughts for a moment … or ten. But I fight the instinct to immediately claw my way to the surface. I need to give it time for the guards to squint down through the brightness of the setting sun’s rays and, seeing nothing, turn back around to scan the interior of the keep.
I wait until my lungs are burning before I rise slowly and take a long, slow breath when I break the surface. I stay amongst thereeds, listening and watching to see if anyone's noticed. When no one shouts and none of the guards come, I slink through the water to the other side and pull myself onto the bank. I force myself not to rush even though I want to be out of the water as quickly as possible. My breath is coming in fits and starts as terror grips me. I stay in the long grasses to recover, hidden from the eyes in the keep as I wait for darkness to descend.
My body feels heavy and sluggish, and my eyes slip closed.
