8. Mira

eight

Mira

"If you inspect it closely, you'll pick out specks of a material that seem to sparkle. It's more brilliant in the daylight, of course, but the flickering light of the torches can actually help you spot them down here."

I lean closer to examine the thin line of red rocks between two layers of thicker sandstone. I bob and weave, trying to glimpse this sparkle Callum so passionately describes as a half-smile forms on my lips. He's right about one thing. Time moves strangely down here. I don't know if he's been talking for twenty minutes or two hours.

The last time I was taken prisoner, I was in a tall tower where I could see the light of day when he opened my cell door at least. I let out a gruff hum, partly about the sparkle still unseen before me, but mostly because I've been taken prisoner twice in Illuemera. It's not like I've been here for very long. Just a couple of months, probably. But maybe longer? I'm not entirely sure now that I think about it. I've either been running like a fugitive or stuck in a cell the whole time. What does that say about me?

After a thorough investigation of my cell, it was clear my escape would not be a Shawshank Redemption moment where I tunnel through the wall. I appreciate Callum's presence, though. So, I let him take me on a journey over time discussing each layer in our shared wall, starting from the bottom. Some of it is admittedly very interesting, but mostly I like the distraction. Besides, I can tell he's bursting at the seams to share it with me. It's endearing in a way, how he shares his passion with me. Infectious even.

"Do you see it?" he asks with the genuine excitement of a young boy showing off his rock collection.

Before I can answer, the sound of boots clouds the hallway. The guards approach Callum's cell and I hear the scraping of trays being exchanged. Dinner time, then.

But when two guards approach my door empty-handed, an uneasy knot forms in my stomach. The shorter one sports a set of fresh bruises around his eye and cut along his brow. If that's how Tairyn treats those who work for him, I can only imagine what he has in store for me. The guard produces a key from his breast pocket.

The metallic song of the key sliding into the lock echoes in the narrow hallway, reverberating against my bones. I push myself away from the wall, moving towards the center of my cell as every muscle in my body tightens like a coiled spring.

A wave of cold fear washes over me, chilling my bones more than the damp stone ever could. The taller guard, a burly figure with a gnarled scar running across his cheek, grins menacingly at me.

"Where's my dinner?" I try to sound nonchalant, but my voice trembles slightly.

"You're to dine upstairs tonight." He doesn't sound too pleased with that. The big one gestures for me to step out of the cell and follow them. I hesitate, but what choice do I really have? Besides, maybe I can get an idea of the layout of this place.

I raise my chin like a princess being escorted by her royal guard, falling in step between them. In the other cell, I hear Callum shuffle out of sight as we pass his door.

Straight. Stairs. First door on the left. Long hallway. Stairs by a huge tapestry.

I focus so intently on the directions; I don't even take in the eerie quiet haunting this rocky structure. By the fifth set of stairs, I know there's no way I'll remember all of this. Not in one trip at least. I finally let my eyes wander to the opulent wall dressings and plush rugs. The higher we climb, the richer the trappings become.

Then I'm standing in front of an oversized double door. The dark wood has eight panels, each with unique etchings depicting different scenes. Crowds of people watch an execution in one. A woman shoving a man into a well in another.

The guards shove the doors open, revealing another room carved into the rocks, yet a roaring fire crackles on the far wall. The warmth hits me first, followed by the subtle scent of smoke and fresh roasted meats which are laid out along a long table. My eyes brush over the spread where cheeses and fruits are piled high before seeking out Tairyn.

He's leaning against a floor to ceiling wall of bookshelves, a book open in one hand as if casually reading a passage before our meal. My eyes narrow as I step into the room. No normal person reads standing up. He must want me to see him reading then, but why?

The doors slam shut behind, and as if drawing his attention his gaze falls on me.

"Please, come in." He shuts the book in his with a graceful flick of his wrist before it disappears with a swirl of purple Chroma. My brow flicks in surprise despite myself. I've never seen someone use Chroma like he does. My own magic is stunted by the shield around me, but the part of me that yearns to learn more is intrigued.

My arms cross my chest, tightening as if to steel myself.

"Tell me what happened to Sunder and Bobble."

The demand comes out before I can even consider what tactic might be best. Sunder is rubbing off on me. Tairyn's lip purse just slightly in displeasure before his casual manner returns. He gestures for me to take a seat at the small table set for two.

"I have no interest in them, so I left them where they lay."

My stomach plummets at his words. Left them where they lay? "Dead?" The word is a whisper, my voice barely audible even to my own ears.

Tairyn shrugs as he moves to the table, pulling out a chair. He eases into it with an air of nonchalance that boils my blood. "I didn't check their pulses." His eyes twinkle with amusement, matching the grin playing on his lips. The blood drains from my face, my jaw going slack as the air in my lungs still. Before I can say anything, his smile falls just slightly, and he continues. "But no, I do not believe they are dead, Vessel."

As if he's completely unaware of how much my stomach is churning, he casually flicks his wrist to the chair across from him. "Sit."

It's not a question or an invitation. It's a command. A command that gets my hackles up, but I have to keep my cool. I can't get impulsive and stabby like Sunder. I have to play this smart. Like Mira.

I take my seat, ignoring the juxtaposition of his finely tailored suit across from my travel-worn clothes that still smell of campfire from a few nights ago.

"So, what is your interest in me?"

I take a casual position, leaning back in my chair. His eyes light up as if accepting some unspoken challenge I didn't realize I'd made. He leans back, his posture mimicking mine. His keen eyes watch me with interest as his Chroma swells, pulling a bottle of red wine from the table laden with delicious smelling foods. "Red or white?"

I raise my chin, annoyed at being ignored. "Red is fine."

The bottle hangs in the air, filling our glasses. He raises his glass in a toast, eyes gleaming with mock seriousness. "To new friends."

Raising my glass, I reply, "Friends are like wine. The old ones are better."

I give him a wink before I down the entire glass in one gulp. He sips his before bringing the bottle over to refill mine.

"Depends on the vintage, Vessel."

Food fills my plate, seemingly on its own. There has to be a way out of this. I glance around the room, looking for anything that gives me an idea of how to escape this lunatic. My mind flashes to all the true crime documentaries I've watched over the years. Yet, this man is my mate. There must be some kind of connection between us I can use to my advantage.

All I know about him right now is that he likes verbally sparring, so that's what I'll give him.

"And you think your vintage is superior?"

His lips curl into a wicked grin, and he lifts his gaze from the wine bottle to meet my eyes. "I think you'll find, Vessel, that I have many… fine qualities."

"Just fine? Surely, humility isn't one of these qualities you mention."

He chuckles, leaning back in his chair and swirling his wine glass carelessly. "I don't need to be humble. I know my strengths." His eyes gleam with arrogance and self-assurance, but there's also something else. A curiosity, a spark of interest that was not there before. "But do you know yours, I wonder?"

I frown. It's a challenge, a bait. But it's also a question I've been wrestling with since well before arriving in Illuemera. Instead of letting my insecurities fly, I change the subject.

"This villain lair vibe suits you," I say, gesturing to the cavernous rocky ceiling.

He raises an amused eyebrow, looking around as if seeing his surroundings for the first time. "I suppose it does have a certain… ambiance. Although I don't know that I'd describe it as villainous." His eyes twinkle with mirth.

"So, are you planning to keep me here indefinitely?" I ask, trying to keep my tone casual. "Because if that's the case, I might need to redecorate."

"Decorate away, Vessel. After dinner, I'll show you to your rooms."

"My rooms?"

He nods, his green eyes gleaming with that smug amusement that makes me grit my teeth. "Yes, your rooms. Of course, you'll have your own space. I'm not a monster." He waves a dismissive hand, the picture of arrogance.

For a moment, I'm relieved. Staying in those depressing dungeons is a little more than I can bare. Besides, if I've got more freedom, maybe I'll be able to find a way out sooner. But my mind settles on Callum. He seemed so happy to have someone to finally talk to.

"And what of Callum?"

Tairyn's expression remains impassive, yet his air shifts to something more dangerous. His fingers tap lightly on the table, almost in irritation. His tone is light, unbothered, but there are some cracks beneath that calm surface. "What of him?"

"Will he also be getting nicer accommodations?"

"He has everything he wants." Hot anger flares through me.

"He wanted to be locked away for disagreeing with you about some war?"

"Is that what he told you?"

I hold my tongue. If I let my anger get the best of me, I will lose this interaction. Leaning back in my chair, I assume a passive stare. My heart pounds in my chest, but I refuse to let more of my emotions show.

"Fascinating." He brings his gaze back to the wine bottle in front of him. "Are you so quick to forget the other loves you so recently feared dead? Or was that simply hope so that you could move on without guilt?"

Something inside me snaps. Anger and outrage at his insinuation. All I see is red. Suddenly my wine glass is in my hand and I'm splashing the contents across Tairyn's perfect face.

He's on his feet with a roar, knocking the table between us to the side. Something in me is driving me forward. Pushing me to stretch the limits between us. Without hesitation, I step up to him, driving both palms against his granite chest.

He doesn't budge or even shift beneath all my force. I shove him again, but purple Chroma wraps around my wrists, stopping me.

"You will not touch me," he says through his teeth, looming over me. His hot breath encircles me, caressing the sensitive skin of my neck as his eyes flash with violence.

I struggle against the magical bonds holding me in place. I lift my knee to meet his groin, but before I make contact, my body is moving. His magic flips me over and pins my hands against the seat of my chair.

Before I can think or react, purple strips of Chroma are falling across my ass. I gasp as a sharp pain blossoms across my backside. Tairyn, now standing behind me, lets the ends of his magic whip snap against me again and again. Each lash sends me lurching forward in my chair. The shock overtakes me before the humiliation sets in. My face burns with it.

"How DARE you!" I shout, twisting my wrists in their binds to no avail. "You can't just--"

"I can," he cuts me off coldly. He sighs, almost regretfully, before adding, "And I did."

I close my eyes tight and grit my teeth as another lash falls across my ass. His Chroma behaves like strands of flaming silk, the way it sizzles against my skin and leaves a tingle in its wake. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of any more outbursts. So, I take the next few lashes in silence. They sting, but they're nothing compared to what I watched Yurghen do to Sunder. Not even close. Each stroke is a physical reminder of the imbalance of power between us. A scolding.

When he's done, the silence stretches between us, only broken by the sound of his labored breathing.

"Are you going to behave now?" Tairyn asks from behind me, all calm and collected.

"No," I spit back at him, my voice choked but defiant. This earns me another stinging lash, a wince escaping me as the magic bites into my flesh.

"Wrong answer," Tairyn's voice is like ice, sharp and cold.

"You're a monster," I hiss, my ass stinging with residual heat from his punishment.

His laugh is awful, devoid of humor as he releases his hold on me. I stumble back, keeping my back straight and shoulders squared, trying to hide my grimace.

"Perhaps," he concedes with a shrug. "But as entertaining as I find your company, it's time for you to return to your cell."

He bites the last word out, like staying there is also part of my punishment. My cheeks flush with heat as the two guards escort me back down the endless hallways and stairs of his fortress. My mind races, replaying each word we exchanged. I grit my teeth as we descend the final stairwell into the dungeon.

I didn't want rooms, anyway.