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CHAPTER 2

I wake up in what can only be considered a prison cell. My eyes open to a gray stone floor and walls with my heavy ballgown tangled around my legs in twisted clumps. I force myself into a sitting position on shaking arms and collapse roughly into the wall behind me.

My mouth feels like sticky cotton and I swallow thickly around the acrid taste. Loosened strands of my hair that managed to escape from the updo it had been twisted into before the ball fell in sweated strands over my eyes. I push them away as my eyes adjust, and squint blearily around me taking stock of where I am.

The room is tiny. There’s a single rickety bed crammed into the wall beside me and a wooden chair in the opposite corner. The dungeon walls are made up of roughly cut stones, with hairline cracks in the mortar holding it all together. It’s deathly silent except for the rough sound of my breaths scraping loudly up and down my throat and the rush of blood pounding in my ears.

By the mother, it is hot. Sweat drips off of me in rivulets as I peer around the dimly lit space. As I move again to swipe the beads of sweat trickling against my hairline, the screeching rattle of metal grinding together has me squinting through the dark towards the unexpected noise.

Chains.

There are long looping metal chains connecting me to the stone wall. The sight pulls a surprised whimper from me. No. No, no, no. This cannot be happening. Through my drug-induced sluggish thoughts, realization slaps me across the face.

I’ve been taken.

Someone’s drugged and abducted me right out of the palace’s gardens. But, how? How did they manage it with the ball happening? The guard patrols should have been more stringent than usual. And more importantly than that, why?

I don’t have time to dwell on what had happened, though, because there’s the sound of the bolt clicking open in the small single door directly across from me. I shakily scramble to push myself as far back into the wall as I can. All I can think right now is that I want to get as far away from the approaching person as physically possible.

The metal door to my cell swings open and my lungs squeeze tight. The figure in the doorway is massive, filling up the doorway entirely—head and shoulders practically brushing the frame. My muscles seize as the man takes a careful, decided step into the room.

In the darkness, I can’t see much else aside from his giant form. But his size alone is enough to make my blood run cold. No one—none of the fae I’ve ever encountered anyway—even come close to the size this person is. As he takes another slow step into the room, someone lingering in the hallway passes him a torch, illuminating the room with flickering golden fire—not the magically induced witch lights I’m accustomed to.

Torch in hand, the man’s head swivels down in my direction. His sharp chin ticks to the side, thoughtfully, as he takes in my position against the wall, “Good, you’re awake.” He says. His voice rolls over my skin, deep and smooth like velvet steeped in shadow.

All I can do is stare up at him with wide eyes. Because this male in front of me isn’t just a male at all…he looks like a monster. Like the devil incarnate. Though his face is perfectly sculpted, pale as marble, a pair of wickedly sharp horns protrude from his forehead. A perfect match to the spikes extending from his shoulders and upper back.

His full lips tip into a smile, showing sharp pointed fangs and my stomach contracts with fear.

“You must be wondering why you’re here.” When I don’t say anything—can’t force any words out— he raises a single black eyebrow, “Let me introduce myself to you, Princess Lucia.”

Wait. Princess…Lucia?

Realization settles over me like a splash of icy water. These people meant to capture my sister, the heir to the Seelie throne, but instead, they’d accidentally taken me by mistake. If I weren’t so terrified, I’d laugh. How anyone could confuse me for my strong, perfect sister is beyond me.

The monster doesn’t seem to notice my shock and continues to speak, “I am Damion Lothbrook, Commander of the North. I apologize for us having to meet under these circumstances.”

I recognize his name instantly and feel the blood drain from my face. Commander Damion. King of the shifters, those inhabiting the Northern mountains just past the borders of the Fae Courts. Our kingdom’s ruthless neighbor. But what does this mean? That he took me—attempted to take Lucia?

The shock and heat are quickly becoming a dangerous combination for me, and my vision blurs around the edges, hands turning clammy where they hold me up against the rough stone floor. I shift them to clutch my thick wrinkled taffeta skirts, but the shiny fabric doesn’t absorb any of the sweat there and my skin just slides uselessly across the material.

I swallow hard to brace myself, eyes flickering over his massive form, “Tell me, Commander Lothbrook,” I say stiffly, “What reason can you possibly have for stealing me from my home and chaining me to your wall?” Relief washes over me when my voice comes out calm, and poised. At least my years of lessons have been good for something.

His lips tip up in that vicious-looking grin again, fangs flashing in the low light, “Well, I couldn’t very well have you blasting through my walls with your magic, could I? The chains are as much of a protection for my people as they are for you. The iron will see to it that you stay put and out of trouble.”

Powers. Magic. Lucia has always had those in droves with the ability to harness the power of light—electricity and lightning. A rare and powerful gift, even for fae. I guess it’s no surprise they have me wrapped in iron then. Iron has always been outlawed in the fae Courts—well, except for in the prisons where powerful criminals are being held. It blocks magic and when it comes in contact with a fae’s skin, is rumored to be unbearably painful.

I don’t feel any pain from the metal, though. If these monsters have mistaken this metal for iron, far be it from me to let them know they have it wrong. I’m not a glutton for punishment.

“In what way would iron chains be a protection for me?” There’s a sharp hot prickling along my scalp, and beneath my heavy skirts, my legs are shaking. My body is getting overheated in this dungeon while still trying to fight off whatever drug it is they gave me. I recognize this weak and lightheaded feeling well. I need my medicine—and badly—that much is becoming more painfully clear with every passing second.

I pushed myself too far at the ball, and now it will be a miracle if I survive whatever these monsters have planned for me. My body is overloaded and will shut down soon. This is what always happens—my illness never allows me to push past this point without severe repercussions.

“We wouldn’t want you to get injured in any escape attempts,” The king’s smile widens, displaying more of his terrifying fangs. His words say otherwise, but that smile tells me that he would very much enjoy if I so much as dared to attempt it.

“If you’re so worried about what I may do to your people, why did you bring me here?” I ask, bringing up a trembling hand to swipe the sweat collecting there, plastering stray hairs to the skin there. I just need to get through this meeting without letting him know something is wrong. Everyone knows you can’t show a monster any weakness or they’ll pounce on it and tear you apart.

Commander Lothbrook crouches down in front of me lending me a better view of his monstrous form, but the blurring and spots dancing across my vision make it hard to see him. Unconsciously, I lean further back from him, letting more of my weight settle into the rough wall behind me. The stone behind me isn’t cool enough to be a relief to my overheated skin. What is happening to me? And why is it so so hot?

“All in good time, princess,” His head tilts like a bird of prey eyeing its next victim. Suddenly, his black eyes narrow, “Something doesn’t seem right.” The Shifter King says.

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