Rhapsodic by Laura Thalassa

Chapter 25

My eyes flutter open, and I rub my head, my mind groggy. Above me is a roughhewn rock ceiling. Sitting up, I glance down my body. I’m no longer wearing my outfit from this morning. Instead I’m sheathed in a wispy copper colored dress, the edges of it embroidered into intricate, shimmery patterns.

Don’t remember changing …

I shiver. I’m cold. Really, really cold.

I look around. Three rock walls surround me. And the fourth …

The fourth is a wall of iron bars.

Imprisoned. But where? Why?

I roll off the pallet I woke on. In the corner of the room, there’s what I would indulgently call a toilet. More like a bowl set into the ground.

Scratched onto the wall nearest me are tally marks. Dozens and dozens of them. None are slashed through, and I can’t decide if that’s because the last prisoner intentionally tallied the days this way… or if several separate prisoners began tallying and never made it past four.

I notice the bastard that took me is nowhere to be seen. Was he the Thief of Souls, or someone else entirely? He never even attempted to explain himself or his motives.

I make my way to the front of my cell, ignoring the sour taste at the back of my throat—the taste of residual magic. My eyes are fixated on the sight across from me.

A cavern of prison cells are cut into the shale. Row after row, level after level. They extend as far as I can see in all directions—up, down, left, right.

Inside each is a woman dressed similarly to me.

Goosebumps break out along my skin.

It looks just like my vision.

Are these the missing women?

If so, then I’m totally fucked. Des hasn’t figured the mystery out and it’s been ongoing for nearly a decade. I’m not holding my breath that that’ll change simply because I’m here.

Where is Des? What must he think?

“Hello?” I call out.

No one answers.

In the distance I hear quiet murmuring, and the soft click of shoes along the walkways outside the cells, which must belong to prison guards. I grimace. If that’s the case, then there are at least a handful of people who know what happened to the warrior women who disappeared from the Otherworld. And they’re facilitating it.

Other than those few sounds, the cell blocks are eerily silent.

This is the place where hope comes to die.

And then, a thought strikes me, one that gives me courage.

“Bargainer,” I rush to say, “I’d like to make a deal.”

I wait for the air to shimmer and Des’s large body to take up space in my cell.

A second passes. Then another. And another.

The cell remains exactly how I found it.

“Bargainer, I’d like to make a deal,” I repeat.

He’s always come in the past. Always. And after last night, I know that he will come for me now that our seven years are up.

Again I wait.

Nothing happens. My room remains empty. Horribly empty.

And now I have to accept that Des can’t get to me, either because he’s been incapacitated—an idea I reject with every fiber of my being—or something is preventing him.

Something like magic.

Something so powerful a fae king cannot get immediately around it. That’s what I now have to contend with. And if I want to make it out of here alive, I’ll need to figure out a way to get past it.

Captivity is … boring.

Frightening, but boring. It consists largely of me sitting in my cell, wondering what exactly is going to happen to me and how I managed to land myself into an Otherworld prison. One that is secretly capturing fae females for some nefarious purpose.

My thoughts are only interrupted every hour or so, when a set of guards makes their circuit past my cell. The first time I saw them, I’d startled at the sight. Each one looks like a blend of animal and man. Some have snouts instead of noses, others haunches instead of legs, and some, whiskers, claws, and fangs.

To a human like me the sight is … off-putting. But then again, the guards are also currently my enemies, so I’m a bit biased.

The only time the guards stray from their hourly patrol is when, like now, two of them cart a fae woman by the armpits back to her cell.

I press my face to the bars, taking in her slumped shoulders, her bowed head, and her lank hair, which hangs loosely in front of her face. Her bare feet drag along the ground behind her. I watch until they move past my line of sight, their footsteps echoing in the cavernous room.

My eyes drift to the other prisoners. Most either sit or lay unmoving inside their cells. I don’t think they’re dead, but they don’t look all that lively either.

Not dead but not alive.

And is that going to happen to me too?

I’m no fae warrior. I’m what fairies derogatively call a slave. A human. To be fair, I’m a supernatural one, but at the end of the day I’m still human. I have no value here as a prisoner.

So why was I taken?

The answer is right there in front of me.

Because you mean something to the King of the Night.

Somehow his enemies learned this, and they captured me to get to him.

I stare down at my wisp of a dress. Not even going to think about the fact that I didn’t put this on. My situation has enough horror in it as is.

An evening of bliss, followed by this. I got to enjoy the perks of being the Night King’s mate for a whopping day.

And now this.

Here it is, the fall after the high. And in my world there’s always a fall. I knew it was too good to think that I would just get a man like Des after all this time. He was always meant to be someone just out of my reach.

Two sets of footsteps head in my direction, interrupting my thoughts. Another rotation for the prison guard.

Only, this time, they halt in front of my prison.

The iron shackles clang between my ankles and my wrists as the guards on either side of me lead me away from my prison cell. My nose itches as the blindfold one of the guards tied around my head now tickles my nose.

Overkill much?

I don’t even get to be flattered by it either. It’s probably standard procedure for the incarcerated warriors.

It could be worse. If I were a fae, the iron cuffs wouldn’t simply be rubbing away skin; it would be sizzling my flesh and draining me of my energy.

Gradually, the quiet murmurs die away and the air begins to smell fresher, though it’s still musty, heavy with the scent of … animals.

It takes another five minutes before I’m deposited in a room. The air here feels heavy, ominous.

Bad things happen here.

Bad things are going to happen to me.

I try not to panic. I spent years making sure I’d never again be a victim, and it was all for naught. My glamour doesn’t work on any of these beings, and without it, I’m simply a human woman up against powerful fairies.

The guards release me, their footsteps retreating behind me. A moment later, the door opens, then closes softly, and I’m alone again, shackled and blindfolded in this room that feels evil.

My awareness stretches out. I can hear someone breathing.

Fuck, not alone after all.My panic spikes.

“Desmond Flynn’s one weakness.” The deep, vibrating voice fills the room, and I can feel the creature’s power in his words. “And I have her.”

My heart’s pounding, and as my fear rises, so does my siren.

I hear the sound of heavy footfalls crossing the room towards me. It takes most of my willpower not to stumble backwards.

“I would not have imagined the great King of Chaos to choose a slave for himself.” The man stops right in front of me.

I jolt when I feel his touch along my cheekbone, which must be glowing by this point. “Not even one such as you.” He runs a thumb along my lower lip. “The people here call you an enchantress. But tell me, human, could you enchant me?”

Instead of answering, I swat away his hand with my shackled ones. The action earns me a chuckle, and then his hands are back on my face, stroking my skin.

“Stop touching me,” I growl.

“Oh, my lady, have you not heard?” I feel his hot breath against my ear. “That’s what I’m best at,” he whispers.

The siren is restless inside me.

He wants an enchantress, let’s give him an enchantress,she whispers. Let him think we are willing right up to the last second. Then we’ll stand over his body and laugh as he takes his own life. Foolish to cross us.

My siren either doesn’t realize or care that this man cannot be glamoured. Not if he’s fae.

He pulls the blindfold off my face, and I blink against the light. The first thing I notice are the man’s antlers. Sharp, towering antlers that add another two feet to the already large stature. Silky chestnut hair frames his tan face.

It’s the man from my dreams.

The slitted pupils of his golden eyes expand as he takes me in.

“You are quite beautiful,” he says. “I can see why the Lord of Secrets has taken you for his mate.

“But you are painfully weak,” he continues. “What a vulnerability. He should know better.”

“Who are you?” I ask, my voice ethereal.

“My manners!” He bows. “I’m Karnon, King of Fauna, Master of Animals, Lord of the Wild Heart, and King of Claws and Talons.”

TheKing of Fauna? The mad king?

Fuckity fuck, that’s not good.

He straightens, splaying his arms out to display the room around him. “Welcome to my kingdom.”

I glance around at the room—bedroom, I amend. The place is covered in furs. Thick wood and ivory furniture is scattered throughout the room, each piece intricately carved, though none are so impressive as the staggering headboard on his bed. A hunting scene is carved into the wood, embellished with bits of ivory, mother-of-pearl, semi-precious stones, and flecks of gold.

A bed for a king.

Out of all the rooms to meet him in, this is the one he chooses. Also not good.

I tear my eyes away from the massive bed to look at Karnon, who’s studying me with a small smile, his eyes narrowed.

His eyes dance at the sound of my hypnotic voice. He leans in close, his antlers nearly touching me. “I already have a casket picked out for you. A special coffin for a special lady. We’ll deliver you right to your mate’s feet.”

He knows Des and I are mates?

Karnon’s finger hooks over the low neck of my dress. “I wonder if it will break him to see his love like that—still as death and holding another man’s baby. Will he kill it? Keep it? Oh the possibilities …” He runs the backs of his fingers over my chest. I notice that blood’s dried into the creases of his hand.

I swallow at the sight. So far he’s only been a bit eccentric, but I have no doubt that at any moment he could snap.

“I’ve never been with a human woman,” he continues. He lowers his voice. “In the Kingdom of Fauna it’s taboo to sleep with a slave. You earthly beasts are so dirty. But you are pleasing enough to look at.” His eyes run over me. “Yes, quite pleasing. I’m eager to see the rest of you.”

Jesus.

No one will ever hurt us like before, my siren promises. He will pay.

The King of Fauna tilts his head. “Perhaps we should begin now?”

Before I have time to react, he grabs my jaw. Looking me in the eye, he leans in and presses his lips to mine.

It’s not a kiss. Not in the truest sense. Instead, he forces my mouth open, then exhales.

A rush of magic is forced down my throat, tasting like rot. I struggle against him even as my knees begin to buckle.

His arm comes around my waist, holding me up as he continues to breathe into me.

I try to bring my knee up to his crotch, but my leg only comes up inches before the shackles around my ankles jerk tight.

Karnon doesn’t even notice.

My chained arms are trapped between us.

Completely immobilized.

As a last ditch effort, I jerk my head away, then head butt the King of Fauna. He staggers back, placing a hand to his forehead.

Without his grip holding me up, my legs now do buckle. 

Karnon’s lips curl back into what might be a smile. All I see are several sets of fangs. “The slave has a little fight in her.”

I force myself to stand, swaying on my feet. I’m choking on whatever corrupted magic he force-fed into me. “What did you do to me?” I croak, my voice hoarse.

He tilts his head, surveying me with those strange eyes of his. “I look forward to seeing more of that pretty skin,” he says. “Guards!” he calls, not glancing away from me.

Two fae soldiers rush in, one who has feathers for hair, the other who has claws.

“We’re finished here,” Karnon says.

Again, I sway on my feet, feeling dizzy and disoriented. Each moment I stand here, I weaken. Something’s very wrong with me. Everything’s moving slower—my limbs, my mind.

Roughly, the soldiers blindfold me again. Gripping my upper arms, the two drag me back to my cell, dumping me carelessly on the pallet in the corner.

I’m barely aware of it. Whatever was forced down my throat is slipping through me, turning my veins to ice.

They don’t bother removing the cloth around my eyes, and I don’t have the energy to do it myself.

Drifting, drifting …

My mind darkens until all that surrounds me is endless, hopeless blackness.