“I did.”
I feel the presence watching—can practically sense the moment she realizes what I mean.
The first few times I met you upon waking in the recesses of your mind, I saw you as sickly sweet. A gag that never really satisfied my disgust. Weak, but adequate for my needs. I was there to complete a task so that I might be able to use you to live once again.
Cursed One pauses.
Now I see this sadness in you—this darkness that has existed long before I ever touched you. Where do you find your light, you strange creature?
I stare at the cell door, unsure how to answer. Silence ticks between us as I examine myself, wondering exactly what to say in response.
“Perhaps…the light comes from hope. And hope seems to walk hand in hand with love. That emotion has always found me in large and small ways. The sunshine on my face, and the undeniable soft parts of nature. In friendship.” I see the faces of Estela, of Fira, of Iryth and Svanna. “I feel it in the fulfillment of a job well done.”
I think of my students, in their marvel and honesty and mischief.There are moments I think of weaving and creating art and how that act of creation seems to feel so much like love.
“I feel it in…” I trail off when my lips burn with the reminder of the kiss in the greenhouse. Then I change the subject. “You know, I think I have come to think of you as more friend than foe, despite our past.”
The moment between us ends almost instantly. I feel the slithering cold course through me, hiding and blocking.
You can’t charm me, Red. I have no friends. I am a damned soul, traded to a demon god so far gone into the darkness that not even the brightest star could reach me.
I pause, honestly grateful for our discussion. It feels…good not to be alone in this moment.
So who are you, then?I think this time. Hoping my question will inspire some sort of confidence between us.
I hardly remember anymore.
She doesn’t say any more.
I sit back, arms around my knees, trying not to think about how small the room feels. The door across from me is iron-barred and slick with rust. I can see another corridor through it, a slice of dim torchlight.
Time passes slowly. I don’t know how long I sit there before footsteps break the quiet. I see the head of one of the guards first as he sticks a key into the lock and grinds it open.
I hold my breath. All alone down here, what could happen? Images of torture, assault, violation run through my head. They could do anything to me under the sanction of the king.
Any kind of power I once had is gone.
Cursed One hisses.I am still here.
You really should give me your name,I say after a second.
Perhaps, once you’ve earned it,she responds.Those like me don’t part with names easily.
The soldier finishes unlocking the door and enters alongside three other guards, each wearing the silver and green colors of the Elven Dominion. Behind them stands an officer with a scroll in one hand. He doesn’t wear a helmet. Instead, his reddish-brown hair isgilded in the low light. When he smiles, the look of it slides over my skin. He would enjoy making me bleed.
“By decree of King Arion,” he announces, “the disgraced human consort of no house will face the Trial of Beasts. Three trials. Three judgments. Survive, and you may earn freedom. Fail, and die.”
I blink.
There is power in names, Red.
My stomach drops. Eslina had mentioned this, but I am not strong enough to fight. Even with Cursed One’s help, this could go poorly.
“What is the Trial of Beasts?” I ask before I can stop myself.
No answer. But when one of them starts forward, I speak out again, not wanting to be touched by them.
“Where is the other one?” I ask. I don’t want to say his name, as if it’s cursed, too.