From Slave To Queen (Athena and Michael) novel Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Clarissa’s kind face, wrinkled with worry, appears in my line of sight. Immediately I feel the relief of a cold compress on my forehead. She whispers soothing words while I feel like I’m burning from the inside out. What I saw could’ve been a dream or simply the hallucinations of a feverish person.

“You’ve probably been incubating something for days, and that’s why all this happened,” she says thoughtfully as she replaces the compress and with another damp cloth wipes the sweat from my neck. “I shouldn’t have taken you to that party.”

I hear the doors opening and don’t even have the strength to lift my face. Seeing what I’m trying to do, Clarissa helps me recline against the pillows. Naida has just entered my room accompanied by Drystan. The girl’s cheeks seem slightly flushed, though given my condition, I prefer to think that’s just a hallucination. There’s no way Naida could like someone like him, right? I mean, he’s a vampire, he’d only see her as a food source. It’d be like the mouse falling for the cat. A suicide.

“How is she?”

“The fever’s the same,” Clarissa replies. “The doctor should see her again.”

“I’ll mention it to Cassian, although I don’t think…” The other half of the sentence hangs in the air.

Everyone except me seems to know what Drystan meant, but I haven’t the faintest idea. Cassian what?

“It’s not fair, he’s supposed to take care of them, he can’t let-”

“He’s angry, and when he’s like that, he doesn’t exactly do what’s fair.” She crosses her arms. “I’ll see what I can do.”

If anything else happens, I have no idea. I lose consciousness again, plunging once more into a heavy darkness–this time without half–naked women or talks about accepting my fate. Just a suffocating, crushing darkness.

Luckily, Cassian did call the doctor again, and with the help of some herbs and advice, my fever gradually went down. Three days later, I’m in perfect condition and more than ready to wander the castle as much as possible. That said, there’s still sign of an explanation for what happened with my wrist wound. Just last night, the doctor took some blood samples and, frankly, I doubt he’ll find anything. It’s normal for humans not to heal magically, so I think the problem lies elsewhere, though of course, no one dares say it out loud, lest the fragile ego of the lord shatter into a thousand little pieces.

If that happened, I’d love to stomp on them to make sure there’s no way to put that massive ego back together.

I head down to the library and sit in my usual spot where I continue studying the different supernatural creatures. Much to my dismay, Ank doesn’t make an appearance. I stare at the candle’s flame, hoping he’ll show up at any moment with his flaming hair and tiny figure. He doesn’t, and the pang of disappointment in my chest confirms how alone I feel here. I have no interest in meeting the other feeders–I feel I don’t fit in with them or that they expect something from me, though I couldn’t say what.

I leave the library the same way I entered, except this time I don’t head straight to my chambers. I decide to explore a little. I walk to the opposite side of the staircase, where there’s a small door similar to the one that leads to the library. Without much hope, I try opening it and, to my surprise, it opens without trouble. A strong smell of dampness and stale air hits my nostrils. In front of me is a daunting descent of stone steps. I can barely see the first few, and the wall torch seems to have gone unlit for a long time. I look around for something to use as a light, but there’s not a single candle in sight. Great- where are they when you need them?

I decide to leave the door wide open so it can provide some light for my descent. Some cobwebs fall from the ceiling and

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Chapter 29

stick to my hair as I pass. I try to shake them off, but after a while, I give up. I descend cautiously, feeling the cold stone walls with my hands. I’m about to give up when I step onto the last stair and turn right.

Cells.

That’s what’s hidden down here.

I think I’ve had enough of the adventurous spirit for today and should turn back… until I see a figure sitting upright at the back of one of the cells. I walk forward, fortunately finding no one else imprisoned, just that person. Maybe Cassian isn’t so cruel after all and doesn’t imprison everyone.

Or maybe he just kills them and saves himself the trouble, says the voice in my head–which, at this point, I don’t know if it’s mine or his, digging relentlessly into my thoughts.

“Hello?”

My voice bounces off the walls, and the figure doesn’t even flinch to show they’ve heard me. I’m sure they did–it’s impossible they didn’t unless they have hearing problems.

“Are you okay?”

I take another hesitant step, getting closer to the cell. There’s only a small barred window letting in faint rays of sunlight. Not enough to light this place, but enough to keep me from cracking my head while walking. I keep moving cautiously, like a lion tamer approaching the beast. I hear a sound behind me that makes me turn, heart racing, feeling like I’m about to vomit it onto my feet. Once I’m sure I’m probably hallucinating, I take one more step toward the cell.

Right now, I’d love not to be so curious and do what would be sensible: go back up the stairs, close the door, and return to my room, where a warm fire awaits me. The problem is I’m low on sensibility, and it seems much better to be here, in the dark, freezing, and approaching I–don’t–know–what. It could be something worse than Cassian… or maybe it’s just a defenseless person, a victim of his cruelty. I lean toward the latter.

My eyes adjust to the dark, and by the time I reach the bars, I clearly see that it’s a woman. A part of me instantly feels empathy.

“Hey, are you okay?” I touch one of the bars. “Why are you here? Do you have food?”

I scan the floor, looking for a tray or something with water. My heart tightens at the thought that they might be keeping her down here, dying of hunger and thirst. I strain my eyes as much as I can, since she doesn’t seem willing to speak. The faint light lets me glimpse the hem of a delicate, silky dress in a deep golden tone. Yellow like sunrays or straw. It feels slightly familiar. I examine all I can, since her face remains hidden in the shadows.

“Do you have a name?”

I receive no response, though it’s not necessary, because the figure lumps to one side, revealing her face from the shadows. I recognize Mavka instantly. Her golden eyes stare blankly ahead, and she doesn’t even attempt to sit up again. She lies there on her side, staring at the wall, and I only know she’s not dead because I can see her eyelashes moving slightly. I grip the bars and crouch as low as I can to be at her level.

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