Snow Bites

Chapter Sixteen

The dungeons were cold and had been neglected for nearly a decade. There had been no need to upkeep them with no new prisoners being brought down with any sort of frequency. Now the only prisoners were a shattered skull and an ex-queen.

Grimhelde sat huddled in a corner to avoid a steady drop from the ceiling that fell at the center of the cot she'd been given to sleep on. Not that she would ever sleep there. A strong smell of mold wafted from the damp fabric. The straw filling had squished under her tentative patting and hadn't sprung back after she'd removed her hand. Beneath it, decayed remains of some animal filled the cell with a horrid smell.

They'd torn her dress in the struggle to push her in. The tear down the side gave the cold a direct access to her skin and chilled her all the way through. A plate of untouched food sat at the doorway to the cell, if anyone could consider it food. The bread was as moldy as the straw they'd expected her to sleep in. There was no telling what the gray slop beside it was, but Grimhelde was sure she'd seen it move on its own.

Her only source of light was a low burning torch attached to the wall by the stairs. It did little to bring any warmth but at least it gave her a good chance to inspect the area and dream of escape. The iron cuffs hadn't been removed and any magic she was able to push from herself rebounded back when her energy was spent.

How was it possible that she'd been so completely cut off from everything? Surely Eirwen hadn't learned magic after her turning. Grimhelde's heart clenched as she remembered the girl's pale face, as pale as when she'd left her on the floor of the cottage.

The cottage! Grimhelde gasped and looked at the solid cuffs encasing her wrists. Eirwen had no need to learn magic when she was surrounded by mages willing to do her every bidding. For the first time, true fear gripped her.

The door to the dungeons swung open on rusted hinges. The feeble torchlight illuminated Eirwen's shoes as she descended the stairs and reflected off her red eyes as if they were hidden rubies. They locked on Grimhelde and seemed to hold her in place. Two mages and the prince followed behind her but it was clear they weren't there to protect her. She was unlikely to need protection ever again.

"Come to gloat?" Grimhelde snapped.

"Oh come now, stepmother, try not to sound so grim," Eirwen sighed. The pale yellow hem of her dress fluttered around her feet as she glided forward. Her footsteps were eerily silent. "I thought we might catch up before I got around to gloating, as you put it."

Grimhelde stood and rushed the bars that held her captive, slamming her palm against them. "If you had just behaved and done as you were told this could have all been avoided," she snapped. "Insolent child, I was searching for the cure so that you would avoid becoming exactly like your wretched mother."

Eirwen examined her pale hands, patiently waiting for Grimhelde to silence herself. "I had things well in hand before you decided to destroy everything my mother had set in place. I even tried to explain it all to you and you decided it would be easier to kill me than to listen." The princess, soon-to-be-queen, crossed the space between them and tapped the bars locking her stepmother inside.

Her prince had followed behind and leaned against the far wall, his eyes never leaving Grimhelde. Where Eirwen's gaze was full of a patient anger, his was cold. At any moment he looked prepared to leap at her and tear her throat out. He bit down on his lower lip and the tip of an elongated fang peeked into view for just a moment.

"You see," Eirwen continued, "I've taken the past few days to observe you. I can see your pain at the decisions you think you've been forced to make. These were your choice but I can at least sympathize with thinking you were doing the noble thing. I too once thought sacrificing my own happiness for those I loved would solve everything. That's why I left you know."