Chapter 9

NINE

Cassia

I wake up to a cramp in my leg that burns so fiercely that I have to clamp my lips closed to keep from crying out. One minute I'm in Cobar's arms, dancing the night away, and the next, I'm in misery. I try to reach for my leg to rub the cramp away, but find I can't. What's more, my face throbs painfully.

My eyes flash open, and I remember where I am. Tied like a hog on the back of a horse. No escape in sight. My face probably looks like something I've scrubbed off my shoe.

Damn it.

The horse I've been attached to comes to a stop, and I try to wriggle free, but it's useless. A sob builds in my chest, but I push it away. I won't show them any weakness. I just want to go back to my dream. The dream I had of Cobar. It showed a nice side of him that I never imagined possible. I felt safe then, and loved.

Instead, I'm staring at the same raggedy house I was brought to yesterday. The Death House .

Yesterday. Fuck. I worked so hard to get away from this place, and it was all for nothing. I can't believe it. This whole thing just feels like a bad dream.

I'm tempted to completely fall apart, but there's something deep inside of me screaming to get back to the Summer Court. To my men. To my grandmother and father. And if I'm going to do that, I need to figure out a way to escape again.

Taking a deep breath, I study the house, trying to ignore the man on the horse. The windows are all broken out, but I notice iron around them just like at the bakery that wasn't a bakery. The rest of the structure looks so worn and drafty, I wonder if I could just plow through a wall and escape.

Probably not.

The man on the horse climbs down, and my stomach churns. I don't want to go into that house because I don't know what they want with me, or what they'll do to me. Not that I have a choice.

The man hauls me off of the horse roughly, grumbling incoherently as he does so, then tosses me over his shoulder awkwardly.

"Yeah, be rough with the girl who's hogtied. Real gentlemanly of you." The second the words leave my mouth, I regret them. I won't be able to do much if this man beats the shit out of me.

Luckily, he ignores me and carries me to the house. Rapping at the door, he says, "It's Grif. I got the girl."

The sound of a lock of some sort turning comes, and then I hear the door creak open. Beyond the door comes conversation and laughter. From far too many people.

Fuck.

Carrying me inside, he dumps me onto the dusty floor while I desperately try to ignore the pain radiating through my body. I struggle against the ropes, hating being this helpless, hating that they can do anything to me now, and I can't stop them. Tears of frustration fill my eyes, but I blink them away angrily and twist and turn my wrists and ankles to no avail.

"Would you look at who finally joined the party?" a familiar female voice asks, sarcasm dripping off her words.

I strain my neck, glancing up to look at the woman who kneels over me. It's the woman who helped kidnap me. I'd recognize her voice anywhere, even if the mask had concealed her face.

She's not at all what I expected, and yet, I don't really know what I did expect. Some of her attributes I'd been able to see, even with her mask on. Like her short, dark hair and equally dark eyes. But there are other things I could never imagine, like the scars that cover nearly every inch of her body that's visible. They look like they came from hundreds of painful injuries that were never allowed to properly heal.

Yet, they don't distract from her harsh beauty. If anything, it makes her more interesting to look at. If only because someone like her must have lived a strange and terrible life.

"You were expected a while ago," she says, and her voice is deep, almost masculine.

My anger grows, but I tamp down my emotions. Some part of me can't believe that a woman would do this to another woman, and yet, it's stupid for me to think that way. In my short life, I've already seen enough of women and men to know they're equally dangerous, even if they are in different ways.

Still, some part of me doesn't want her to see how upset I am. It's like my responses are the only thing I still have control over. "If you wanted me to come visit, you could've just sent an invitation."

She laughs and grabs ahold of my face, painfully twisting it so that I'm facing the man who brought me. This… Grif. It's the first time I've truly been able to look at him, and now I'm amazed by what a strange pair they are. Just as her skin is marked by scars, his is marked by tattoos. Tattoos cover his throat, his neck, the bit of chest I can see, and his arms and hands. His hair is shaved clean on the sides, but the top of his hair and the back are left long. It's strange. These two would stand out anywhere they go, and yet, no one seems to have thought they were suspicious enough to link them to my kidnapping.

They must be good at what they do.

"I'm Etha, and this is Grif, whom you've already met a few times now." She smiles as she gives me her polite introduction, and I want to tell her to shove it up her ass.

"What do you want with me?" I ask, choosing to be calm instead of irate. Maybe I can get a straight answer. Maybe I can talk my way out of this. They're not going to respond to me being wild anymore. They've figured that out–if my bindings are any indication. I have to play it cool and use my brain.

At least, for a hogtied woman surrounded by enemies in a strange place, that seems like the only option.

Grif smirks. "She wonders what we want with her."

Etha gives him a look that wipes the smirk from his face, and I don't have to ask to know she's in charge. "The fae are stupid like that."

I snort. "They are."

She gives me a strange look and continues. "The reason you're here is simple. We're tired of your kind. "

I stare in confusion. My kind? I'm the same kind as her, but I stay quiet and let her finish.

"All you fae do is rule over us and leave us with your scraps, and we're tired of your very existence."

She's tired of the fae and how they rule? Well shit, so am I. The hours I worked to make so little money. The extravagance I witnessed before going home to my meager home with stolen food in my apron. The way that they've watched my father suffer with his illness all my life without offering him help that they could so easily give. And the way that my grandmother was thrown out of the palace for simply going blind.

Fuck the fae.

She continues before I can reply. "As the mate of all four princes, removing you from the picture removes any chance of them having children, at least legitimate children, and if they don't have legitimate children, there will be no more royal fae. Then, things will have to change."

I can't decide if I want to yell or laugh. "Now wait a minute. I've lived as a human all my life. I know exactly what it's like. I've had to scrape what little pennies I had together to get food for my family. We lived in a tiny home on the far outskirts where the other nobodies live. What the hell makes you think that having me as queen is going to be bad for humanity? Seriously."

It's ridiculous. I can't believe they think I'm some stuck-up, out of touch royal fae. I'm the complete opposite. I've only been labeled royalty for a few days, and they've already pegged me as complicit in all the bad things the fae are known for.

I keep going, hoping against hope I can clear this whole mess up before things get worse. "As the new queen, I'm going to make changes to benefit the humans." If I'm being honest with myself, this is actually the first time I've thought about it, but they're right, and as their future queen I have the power to make changes and to make life better for them so that no one suffers the way that my family has suffered.

Should I accept the role. But they don't need to know that.

If I can get these people to believe me, maybe all of this can end. And, maybe, I can start to think about what being queen might actually mean. Instead of focusing on a life of lying, a life of deceit, a life surrounded by the fae I hate in so many ways, I can focus on what I can do for the humans with my power.

In another situation, I might think I was having an epiphany, but instead, I'm just trying to save my own life. Epiphanies can come when I'm safe.

Grif huffs. "That sounds just like the kind of nonsense a fae queen would utter."

I'm almost shocked that they don't believe me, but the old me wouldn't believe me right now either. I totally understand where they're coming from, but they've got the wrong girl. A week ago, I would have been all for a plan like this–minus the kidnapping of an innocent person.

"Seriously," I tell them. "Wouldn't it benefit humanity to have a queen who was raised human? Who is human in all ways that matter?" I silently beg them to accept my logic.

"You're a fae, or you wouldn't have matched with the princes, and a fae is a fae no matter anything else," Etha says, dismissing my words.

No, wait. "About that–" I can't tell them the truth, or can I ?

"Denying it only makes you look like a fucking liar," Grif says, and his eyes flash with a threat.

Shit. I'm losing them.

"Talk to anyone in my life. You'll see!"

"Regardless of the lies you tell, you're fae. You have no idea what it's like to be human and to suffer the way we do," Etha tells me, as if she speaks the absolute truth. "You're also the key to our future. You're what's going to bring us into a different era. One where the fae must change, and we humans will have a chance, at last."

"You don't understand." I'm pleading now. "You've got this all wrong. You don't need to kidnap me and do whatever the hell you have planned. I'm not who you think I am."

Etha laughs, but her laugh is cruel, and the men I can hear, but not see, laugh too. "Not to worry, fragile fae, you haven't actually done anything to us, and we follow a strict code which means we won't kill you. But we will work you. You'll live here as our servant, taking the role we've had to take with your kind for so long." Etha releases my head and snaps her fingers.

I cackle bitterly, disbelieving of what's happening right now. "I was a maid for the fae last week. I scrubbed their floors, made their beds, and drew their baths. You really think I don't know what hard work is?"

Grif laughs. "She's probably worked hard on her back." His stupid audience roars with laughter.

These people are idiots who deserve to suffer. They could have at least done their research and learned a little bit more about me.

Idiots .

Anger courses through me. If I were a fae, I'd use every ounce of power I had to destroy each and every one of these fools.

"I was a maid! You fucking idiots! There was no lying down! Hell, you guys can afford armor , guess who was too poor for that?"

The urge to beat them with the crappy hard bread I used to soften with water courses through me. I'd break their damn bones and laugh maniacally.

"I don't give a damn what you tell me you did. You're going to be our servant until the end of time," Etha tells me calmly. "No matter how colorful your lies are, this is your fate, fae. Accept it, just as we accepted our fate for so long."

A heavy metal ball attached to an equally heavy-looking chain drops next to my head. I feel cool metal snap into place around my ankle, and then feel my bindings being roughly sawed away. Then, my legs and arms fall around me, burning as the blood properly courses through them once more.

I struggle to sit up, then start rubbing my limbs, glaring at the shitty room. At least a dozen men lounge around, dirty and dangerous-looking. The only light comes from a crackling fire to one side, the dancing flames casting all my kidnappers in a shifting light that makes them seem even more sinister.

The ball and chain on my ankle irritate my skin. Their techniques are barbaric. Surely they could have forced me to work without this. I grumble and look around me. As far as I can tell, there's the front door we came out of, stairs that likely lead to bedrooms, and a small doorway leading to the rest of this floor. Basically, no easy escape, especially not with this ball and chain tied to me .

Grif pushes me toward a bucket filled with dirty water. "Get to work!"

Yeah, I can barely stand, but, sure, I'll get to work. You dickhead. Still, I'm not exactly in a safe situation. If they don't plan to hurt me or kill me, I can handle a little cleaning… until I can come up with another plan to escape.

I struggle to my feet, my gaze moving over the room and the men. A few of them give me the fucking creeps. One keeps looking at me and licking his lips in a way that makes me want to cut his tongue out. No matter that the woman said I'm here to work for them, I've realized I can't let my guard down at any time while I'm here.

So, cleaning it is!

I dip the filthy mop into the filthy mop water and swish it along the floor. It's not going to get clean, but I doubt that's what they're concerned about. They just want me, a supposed fae, to be working for them for a change. They want to humble me. They want to embarrass me.

The thing is, I don't care. Cleaning means I'm moving around, which means that eventually I'll have an opportunity to escape. I just need to keep myself alive until then.

I don't know what I can do to get myself out of this, but I'm going to do whatever it takes.