Chapter 20

Elanor

Needles shooting through my skull confirm I’m still alive and bring with them a cruel reminder of my failure.

I’ve wandered long enough in Death’s realm to remember pain has no grasp there, and that I’ve not been granted immunity to the horrors of the living world. An angel of Death, condemned to suffer the worst humanity has to offer.

“Welcome back, Elanor.”

A distant voice rings in my ears as I try to hold on to the darkness, willing my consciousness to escape this place.

Cold seeps through my bones and humidity sticks to the clothes on my back. I have no idea where I am. All I know is I don’t want to be here and I shouldn’t have let my guard down.

Water drips on the floor, each drop a stab in my head that relegates the sweet reprieve of nothingness further and further away.

Cold metal touches my chin, forcing its way between my lips. Liquid pours over my mouth and down my throat. Instinct kicks in as I choke and spit the foreign drink out, spilling it all over me. It freezes me to the bone and sets my throat on fire.

A violent cough shakes me, pulling on the strained muscles in my arms, which are tied to the chair.

I’ve never had to imagine what being skinned alive would feel like, but if I were to venture a guess, I’d say it would feel like that. Each nerve ending in my body lights on fire, from the tip of my head to my ankles secured to the chair legs with tight rope.

I blink several times, willing my eyes to open. The room I’m in is dark and empty except for a silhouette in front of me.

Pain flares behind my eyes, neck, and arms as Nylren’s face comes into view. My eyes pause on the traitor for a moment before I try turning to see behind me.

I manage a few inches before the pain stops me.

“Azran,” I croak, trying to keep panic at bay.

“How’s your head?”

Asshole. If only my head was the issue. My entire body is shot up with pain. Each thump of my heart brings a new wave of impossible hurt, like acid pumping through my veins, boiling, sharp.

“Where is he?” I grit out behind clenched teeth.

“You’re asking the wrong question.” Nylren approaches with the cup, and this time I pinch my lips closed. “You should be focusing on what’s going to get you out of these restraints.”

I can’t see straight; his image is going in and out of focus.

“What do you want?”

“I want to learn about you and your abilities.” Nylren gets closer, his face inches from mine as he lowers his voice to a whisper. “I’ve only ever wanted to help, Elanor.”

“Is that why you put this collar around my neck?” I bark back, and ache radiates behind my eyes.

Were my mouth not dry, I’d spit in his face so he’d drop the act. A distorted snarl is the best I manage.

“I suggest you cooperate, Elanor.” His brows furrow as he steps away. “You will merely put yourself through endless suffering if you don’t, and we’ll get what we want either way.” Pain retreats long enough to let fear seep in. “Trust me. You don’t want to discover the many ways my father has to bend someone to his will.”

I look away as searing pain courses my body and my power slowly suffocates, buried so deeply I can barely feel it.

“Don’t be stubborn, Elanor. Please.”

I clench my jaw hard enough to dispel the tears pooling in my eyes and face him again.

“Go to hell.” Our gazes lock. “You do realize playing Daddy’s errand boy will never earn you what you seek so dearly?” Shock paints his features, and that view alone makes each word worth the pain. “I guess I’m not the only stubborn one.”

A choked laugh tears from my throat and a new wave of acid burns through me.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know this much.” I suppress the nausea welling up in my chest with a wince before making eye contact again. “You will be rotting in the ground before the day you feel your father’s love.”

I’m scanning his face for a reaction, but his cold mask returns.

“You’ve made your choice, then.”

I stare at him with defiance, my chin up and head held high as he walks out of the room, holding my breath.

The first tear rolls down my cheek as the metal door slams and my head drops to my chest. Sobs follow not long after as I try to catch my breath, but come up short of a way to keep the pain at bay.

My gaze fixes on the stone floor, watching as tears pool on my lap, my head pulsing horribly with each moment that passes. I pray for the abyss to claim me again.

The door closing on its hinges startles me awake, but the King doesn’t grant me a look. He walks past me as I remain still, refusing to glimpse behind me and show fear.

“Given that our attempt at friendship has not proved useful, I will spare us both a repeat performance and get to the enjoyable part.”

Metal clings as he moves around objects of various sorts.

When he finally comes into view, he still doesn’t look at me, completely absorbed by what’s in his hands. Leather straps hang from his palm, each strip decorated by a small carved bone at the end, and he caresses them like a lover.

His tender gaze turns devilish when he takes me in, and the gravity of my situation finally dawns on me. I’m the animal and he’s the master, a sick one who’s going to take his time and play with me.

I swallow the lump in my throat and focus on his gestures as he moves towards me excruciatingly slowly. The bastard takes his sweet time, building anticipation.

“You know what to do when you’ve had enough.”

Amusement twinkles in his crazed eyes as he circles me, and in that moment I swear to not utter a single word in this room. As Nylren so nicely pointed out, I’m nothing if not stubborn. They’re about to learn the true meaning of the word.

I clench my jaw and try retreating inside my head, seeking the familiar place of comfort amidst the pain, knowing it’s about to get a thousand times worse. But numbness evades me, the constant drilling in my skull keeping me present and hyper-aware of each nerve ending in my body.

I will endure this. I have to. I’ve known pain before and this will be no different. This sick fuck loves seeing me like this, and I won’t give him the satisfaction of hearing me scream. Over my literal dead body.

A smile tears from his lips, my only signal before the whip falls on my chest.

Tears immediately prickle as fire erupts all over my skin, but I hold back a cry.

Looking down, strips of my dress fall on my lap, red lines decorating my bare skin.

“Stings, doesn’t it?” His emerald gaze turns dead cold as I release a short breath, trying to see through watery eyes.

I manage to hold back my screams for the first twenty lashes, until my blood redecorates the floors, until I see stars, until the pain takes over my entire nervous system, until I can’t anymore and cries fill the room. I lose count after that, the spiked leather strips robbing me of my last bit of pride.

I thought I had known torture before, not realizing mine had been mental and self-inflicted—a non-negligible difference.

Airdan leaves me hanging on by a thread, waiting for darkness to take me and fulfill the only promise I know holds true in this life, but it doesn’t come.

I stop counting the days not long after his first visit, the state of my blue dress the only indication of how much time has passed.

Shreds of bloody fabric hang loosely around my waist and shoulders, my skin laid bare underneath. I would have imagined the temperature of the room to be the last of my worries, but the cold in my bones might be the cruelest form of torture. My body is on fire, acid running through my veins, but I’m freezing to my core, the burn in my wounds intensifying with each breeze that makes its way through the cracks in the door.

My state worsens when I’m on the brink of falling into the shadows. Shaken by trembles, I can’t control my body anymore, and each shudder heightens the pain until exhaustion finally takes me, or madness. I can’t tell them apart anymore.

With a song of fire and ice inside my head, a poisonous magic pulses in my heart, keeping my power at bay, torturing me when I’m awake.

My joints swell to the point where I can’t feel my wrists and shoulders. I can’t tell if I’ve lost my limbs or if it’s my brain trying to protect me from further pain. I can’t tell if the jolts of pain are phantom when feeling returns to my arms in waves.

My captors have found a way to slow my healing. I figured as much when the ache didn’t dull after their first three visits. Sick bastards. The fancy dinners and strolls through the park are long gone.