She was not a stranger to the dark. Even when it consumed, gathered and crowded and pressed, even when it stared at her and told her dark secrets she did not want to hear-she'd tamed it. Tamed them. And they'd fallen under her hand, the terrible whispers turning into singing.
But now it was silent. She could not hear their voices, nor could she hear her own magic.
She wondered if Lilith had inherited any of her power. She hoped she had not. It would mean a target on her back, and her horrible childhood would be even worse. Eblis remembered a time she'd spoken to Rhys about this, when they were far younger and newer to the world and their father still ruled and their mother still lived.
She coughed, her throat burning even as the rest of her convulsed with the cold.
If she didn't die soon, she might just finish herself off. But, despite herself, there was some flare of indignant hope in her chest. For, Prythian had survived Hybern once before, and nothing was stopping them from doing it again.
Except for her.
For what she'd done to gather that army.
Her legs shook as she tried to stand, such emptiness rocketing through her. Because of her, the army might be never ending. Her idea, her chance for fame and favor, had swayed Prythian's odds to the losing end. The army that was controlled by others and forced to fight. It did not matter their skill; though she'd spent time training these forces, it was not out of a daemati's reach-especially a strong one-to implant fighting knowledge into another.
She gripped the bars of her cell, listening to the faint rustles of other prisoners who refused to speak, and the moans of those who were far too gone to be of any help. Her hands trembled on the metal. That hope was quick to snuff out.
***
She stood there for a long time. She stared at nothing, until she eventually rested her forehead on the beams and felt the chill work into her skin. Every once in a while, she would feel the throb of pain from her wounds.
Eblis was kneeling on the ground, still clasping the bars and resting her head against them, when she heard footsteps. She perked up.
Was she finally going to be killed?
That different kind of hope-dark and sinuous-was dashed away for another when she heard a small whisper of sound.
Her name.
"Spymaster Eblis?"
She choked, pressing her face against the bars even tighter, eyes straining. "Who is it?"
"Requeza." Fingers touched her face, and she flinched back. Her spy murmured an apology, but reached forward again and scraped a calloused finger along her cheek. Eblis leaned into it.
She sighed. "I'm so sorry. I failed you all. I brought you into this."
"Don't say that. Don't give up."
Her lips tightened, her eyes closing to the female's gentle and inquisitive touch. "I have no other choice, Requeza! I failed everyone. I'm going to be killed and so is Madalyn. Prythian is going to fall into ruin," she said, and her voice cracked, and suddenly she was crying. Real tears-ones she hadn't shed in far too long. "We're all going to die," she whispered.
Requeza pinched her skin. "Spymaster, we have not given up. We still live. We still fight." But the spy seemed unsure of herself then, as if seeing Eblis that way weakened her resolve. Eblis did not blame her.
"Save yourself, Requeza. Get the others out. Find your happiness." She was desperate, she realized, to make her spies realize just how futile anything they did would turn out to be. Eblis had failed spectacularly.
Her cheek was pinched again, and still, neither pulled away. "You are tired and cranky as always, Spymaster," her spy responded. She sensed the hint of a smile in her voice. "I'll pretend I didn't hear you say that. All is forgiven."
"Requeza, please."
"Amaron and Amerilda are burrowed in town hiding, and they are still swaying the people. Yven and Jace-"
Footsteps echoed through the hall. At once, the touch was gone from her face, and her spy was gone. Eblis leaned back, wiping the disappointment and horror from herself. Her people were still fighting, despite her best wishes. The army had already descended. She couldn't save any of them before she was to be killed, for, she knew it was for her those footsteps came after.
How horrible it was; she was going to die when she finally decided she needed to live a little longer.
Like the last time, light flared across her vision, and Anastasia appeared, resplendent in gold and ivory and her red curls pinned up neatly. She was not alone. At her sides, the brown-haired Brandt and green-haired Uyrium filled the small hallway with their muscle and bulk, white armor gleaming in the torch light.
Anastasia had the balls to yawn. "Sorry for being so late. I slept in a little." Eblis tightened her lips, refusing to respond. The other female rolled her dark eyes. "Relax. You aren't going to die. Yet."
She blinked. Her voice croaked out of her despite herself. "What does that mean?"
Anastasia smiled prettily, fluffing her gown distractedly. "Despite my certain reservations, I presented an idea to her Majesty that might just save your life. I'm hoping it won't." She snapped her fingers, and the cell clinked open, the sound echoing through the prison. People began to stir, recognizing that sound. Eblis couldn't fight as they lifted her by her arms like they had just before, except, this time, her legs dragged behind her. They were numb with cold and pain.
She didn't protest as she was pulled out of her cell, and she certainly didn't protest when she was brought out. Away, away, away, and prisoners stared out of their cells with pale, ruddy skin and hopeless eyes as the light passed over them. The many younger fae stared at her with hatred, sharp teeth bared. She was getting what they hadn't; she was being freed.
But Anastasia's words still echoed through her. Eblis did not know why the female might save her life, not for everything she'd done to her and vice versa. So her mind did not go to bright places.
Real light seared her skin and eyes and wounds, and she flinched as the warmth of day nipped at her frozen skin. When she looked at herself, she realized she was coated in blood and filth from lying and crawling around on the ground in her cell. She realized her skin was blue, both from dried faebane still clinging to her, and the threat of death making her numb. Her fingertips were nearly purple.
Anastasia tsked. "You're lucky. If I'd slept any longer, you might've been dead."
She didn't respond. Couldn't find it in herself to respond, especially as her skin began to blaze with heat and pain made her want to writhe from their grips and curl into a ball in the darkness. She had not realized just how numb she'd become, and how much pain she'd been in before she'd chilled. Her head roiled. How had she even felt Requeza's touch on her cheek?
They made it to the throne room without passing anyone in the halls. In fact, it seemed particularly deserted just about everywhere in the castle. It was quiet. Even as the doors groaned open, then groaned shut, it seemed everything was suspended in a stilled time frame.
Eblis's eyes found Madalyn, and the female sobbed.
She was on her knees, Reneau holding her hair and her limbs bound. Even her mouth was gagged, stuffed full with cloth. Her terrified sobs wrenched at something deep in her, and she shushed the princess despite herself, trying to calm her down. Eblis was dragged forward, until she was in line with Madalyn. She dropped all pretense and bumped her forehead against the female's, staring deep in her mismatched eyes. Both trained on her, slightly panicked as she gasped. Her face had the smudges of shadow and bruises from tire and a rough night, her dark hair-usually so neatly gathered-tumbling down her shoulders in loose waves. Eblis comforted Madalyn, trying to tell her it was okay and everything was fine.
"Be strong, my child. It'll be fine." She did not know why she lied. Something terribly wrong was going to happen, and she could feel it in her gut, like an asp tightening around her until she could barely think or breathe.
"How touching." Eblis glared at the Queen, her skin still burning and a low pulsing dragging at the back of her mind. Madalyn quieted, her terror turning silent in the face of her real, blood mother. "Are you done yet?"
Eblis's hair was tugged back so she was forced to look at the Queen and no longer at her daughter. Her mouth was similarly gagged, and her limbs bound.
The Queen surveyed her right back, faebane blue eyes striking and clear as crystal ponds. She wore an array of reds that contrasted deeply with her skin and hair and eyes, but it, conveniently, would do well with masking the stain of blood, she realized.
"General-Spymaster," the Queen began, and Eblis's gaze narrowed sharply. "We have the Princess Lilith."
Her stomach dropped out. She gurgled around her gag, as if to say obscenities or just to yell, she did not know. If they had Lilith, it meant that she had been taken from the Night Court. And, she knew within her very blood, that Azriel would have died before letting the girl be taken.
She couldn't even deny the facts. Her magic was blocked, their weak mating bond snuffed into silence and obedience. Eblis could not truly tell whether they lied or not.
They have Lilith.
Now would be it. This would be the time that she should be saved, and Madalyn swept to safety and the Queen killed, as if it were part of the plan. Her spies had to have planned that. They had to have thought of doing such a thing, of course. Attack while the Queen feels most secure. She'd taught them to do so to take down their enemies, which now, she suspected, she would give anything to be her allies. She could not turn her gaze away from the Queen as it pierced hers and threatened to drown her more than she already was. The windows were unbearably clear of any assailants, the ceiling in her periphery too dark to tell. The room too quiet for her quickened breaths to be ignored.
The Queen waved a lazy hand. Eblis heard shuffling at her side, but she could not turn, could not break from the hold of whoever gripped her hair. She could not fight strong enough or hard enough to be able to see-
She heard the hiss of a blade being drawn, felt the wind move on her burning and sensitive skin. Her pointed ears twitched at the sound of gurgling, and the thump of something heavy and dry. Like fabric. Skin. A body.
Eblis screamed through her gag. She saw nothing, nothing, nothing, except for the pleased smile of the Queen and her depthless blue eyes that never ended. She screamed again, silent as her voice was pulled reed thin.
Where were her spies?
Where was her rescue?
Why did it not come?
The Queen waved her hand again, and Eblis waited for the bite of metal on her throat, almost begging for it. But her hair was released, and her head dropped almost immediately as she had not realized how much she'd been straining against it. She turned too quick, the world a blur in her vision of tears, to find blood and fabric sliding across the ground. She could've sworn the world quaked in her burning anger and horror and sobs as she watched her daughter, sweet Madalyn, be dragged into a boiling cauldron of faebane.
She screamed again, for it was all she could do as she writhed and struggled against her numb limbs and tight bonds and the gag in her mouth that threatened to choke her to death. The surface of the faebane rippled and swallowed her Madalyn whole, the liquid rising with the volume of her body. The few faintest bits spilled over the side and hissed at the scalding heat of the cauldron itself and the fire licking up along its sides.
No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no-
She struggled and trembled and ripped against her captor's hold until she was free and she stumbled into the ground. And then she was up and running towards the cauldron. The surface did not tremble, move, or even show a whisper of someone struggling beneath it. It hissed with heat and buffeted steam into her face. Her tears dripped into the faebane. Her Madalyn. Madalyn. Madalyn!
"Now, now, General-Spymaster. We have a perfectly good heir waiting to be groomed. There is no need to be so dramatic over the late princess."
Her eyes felt heavy with tears. Heavy, but suddenly dry.
She was tugged back and forced to kneel. She didn't resist. Eblis felt too weak to, anyway. The blood next to her mocked her with it's wetness.
"As Anastasia so kindly reminded me, you are far too useful to get rid of. We could use your expertise and skill, and, again as Ana so kindly reminded me, we have a great way to get you under control." Reneau stepped forward, hands folded behind his back pleasantly, his face bored as if he hadn't just killed her Madalyn. If she had any magic in her, any weapons in her hands, he would've been without eyes or a head or a heart and drowning in faebane just as quickly as he'd ended her princess.
Madalyn, Madalyn, Madalyn.
"Just like you made me an army, we'll make you into the perfect General-Spymaster," the Queen said. Her blue hand fluttered, and Reneau turned to Eblis. She wasn't even crying any longer, though tears still trekked down her skin. She felt so tired, as if she were drained to the bone of energy and strength. Reneau gripped her chin, forcing her gaze up. She could clearly remember the sound of a blade and gurgling and fabric hissing against stone as she met his cool, gray gaze.
"After this, I will be the strongest daemati there is," he whispered to her.
She met his eyes with little to no emotion. Her Madalyn. "If you make this work, I will still be the strongest. The Queen will still favor me," she insisted. She didn't fight his grip, nor his gaze. She weathered the anger and hatred and triumph there.
He only scoffed, dismissing her. "You will not function like you used to."
"No, I will function better, with no self reserves like I do now. I will be the perfect killing machine."
Reneau bared his sharp, sharp teeth. His brown braid slid over his shoulder as he leaned closer. His breath hissed against her face. "We'll see about that."
Good. Fail, Reneau. Kill me for good. I do not want to live any longer, she thought.
The male pulled back with a glare. She hadn't realized he was already in her mind. Eblis was startled to feel his talons gripping her mind when she hadn't been paying attention. Her gaze dulled as she went far away from the present; her plan to anger him into intentionally killing her had not worked.
So, as he rifled through her mind and sundered her defenses, she thought of the whine of a blade and the gurgle of blood and the hiss of fabric against stone over, and over, and over, and made herself relive every horrible memory she had.
She hoped Reneau had a good stay in her mind right up until she had no mind at all.
***
Loving the story? Help me publish it as an original work by contacting H.M.Q.uincy05@gmail.com!