Bound by Darkness (Bound By Series)

1. The Prison

Chapter 1

The Prison

THALIA

I hadn’t planned to be soaked in her blood.

The warm liquid trickled down my chin as it splattered against the cobblestone flooring. The same cobblestone flooring my cheek pressed against as the guard dug her knee into my spine. The air was hot, muggy, and too little of it was available as my chest rose with labored breaths.

“You’ll pay for that bite!” she yelled, the sound shattering the empty cell like broken shards of glass. She cradled her ruined forearm against her broad chest as blood slowly dripped from her fingers.

My crimson teeth flashed triumphantly as I observed the chunk of flesh missing from the area. She clenched her fingers together, the punch landing against the soft hollow of my cheek.

Spitting out red saliva, the iron taste lingered in my mouth—a mixture of mine and hers coating my tongue.

I steadied myself for another blow, but it never came as she stepped back, her eyes glaring in the dim lighting. “Double duty again,” she said before stalking away, the iron bars slamming shut.

Even from this distance, her displeasure reverberated in the hallways, echoing the triumph I’d engaged in.

Laying against the cool stone flooring, I focused on the oil lamp across the cell block, the flame sputtering.

Oxygen lacked in the depths of the prison catacombs as it rested well below the castle grounds. Far enough His Majesty didn’t have to smell the rot or see the trophies he’d collected.

Pain laced my cheek as I winced.

My fingers grazed the start of a lovely bruise, and the split between my lip stung with each movement. She deserved the bite and chunk of flesh my teeth had claimed when she’d brought the whip out.

I was not cattle, even if the guards viewed me as such. Anything was better than being whipped.

My fingers flitted over my brown tunic, stained with years of dirt and blood, as I thumbed the golden emblem of Armas.

Stamped onto the fabric, the symbol served as a reminder the prison owned my life until I either collapsed from starvation, or they hauled me to Galar, where no one ever returned alive.

A half-breed sentenced to a life of toil and decay, because my father was human, my mother a Fae, and because I’d fulfilled the decree known throughout all of Cethales?—

If a half-breed is ever born with casting, they are immediately to be turned in to one of the four High Fae Kings. If one does not, anyone held liable will be extinguished as ordered by High King Hywell of House Armas.

Hay poked my head and neck as I settled into the stack, the needles still slightly warm from my body heat. My family had protected me, and yet, I’d still wound up captured to His Majesty. A slave in the Fae lands. A land ruled by horrid High Kings and Queens, casting remaining in their bloodline for centuries while the rest of the Fae were powerless.

It was illegal for humans to roam Cethales without permit, my father one of them. Constantly hiding in the shadows while he flitted over the land to provide for us. They had said it was for protection for the curse, but all the Fae knew it was something to do with greed—to maintain an unbalanced power system.

My thoughts dwindled as my green eyes lingered on the dark splotches behind the iron chains that dangled from the corner of my cell. Those were stains from my blood eleven years ago. Markings from the first night they’d arrested me as a young child. They hadn’t held back as their fists pummeled into me.

“For once, can you not cause trouble for yourself?” A pair of beady eyes peered through the adjacent cell bars.

“Where’s the fun if I don’t?” I said, shaking the vivid memory away. She constantly interrupted me when I crawled too far into the back of my mind.

Her silhouette shook violently as the oil lamp flickered and sputtered, the wick nearly encased in melted oil. “I don’t see how defying orders is fun.”

“It’s better than being whipped.”

Pieces of rock crumbled from the prison walls. It was an older fortress hand-carved from prisoners before me… from my people.

Moria peered back at me, the golden flecks of her eyes reflecting from the flame. “Did you steal again?”

I shook my head. “No. They put me on garden duty and doubled my quota.”

“Because you stole?—”

“I did not steal,” I hissed. “I haven’t in a while. Not since the necklace I gave you.” The scar along my finger pulsed, a vivid memory replaying in my mind.

Moria’s eyes softened. Even with dirt caked on her face, her beauty shone beneath as her full lips parted. “Okay, but you need to lay low. You can’t keep bringing attention to yourself. You’re asking for the trouble you put yourself in.”

I squeezed a piece of hay between my thumb and pointer finger. “What else am I supposed to do when my strength is failing? They know I’m not as swift anymore. I can barely manage the trek to the grounds. All I have left is trouble.”

Every day grew harder mentally and physically as I withered away with each waning moon and rising faelight. Nothing prevented my steady decline… the slow state of starvation inflicted upon me. It scared me the longer I rotted away within these cells.

The longer we rotted in these cells.

I had no hope, no fate, and nothing to live for except escaping with Moria to the Mainland. There, we would be safe.

Moria bit her lip, her brown eyes shining brighter than before. “Maybe—” She licked her lips. “Maybe I can talk to one of the guards. Call in some favors.”

“Moria.”

“It’ll be fine. Gayle wouldn’t let any harm come to me.”

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. “Gayle would if it meant giving him the acknowledgment he seeks.” He would, too, if it meant spilling someone’s blood.

Moria’s brunette hair spilled over her shoulders. She refused to let anyone touch it in the years she’d been held here.

“Yes, but he gives me things.”

“In return for your services,” I muttered into the hay.

Her eyes narrowed as the hard planes of her face cut daggers into my cell. “Judge me all you want, but he’s the sole reason you and I are still alive. Who do you think provides us with extra food, or provides me with tonics if one of us falls ill?”

“But we shouldn’t have to rely on him! He’s manipulative, and treats you worse than a pile of garbage. I’d rather starve than see him push you into the ground again and—” I bit my lip as I shoved the sounds and images into the depths of my mind.

I hated reliving memories, because any ounce of suffering I remembered brought back images of that night… of the darkness seeping from me in great swells.

“It’s how I’ve survived here for so long,” she whispered. “It’s how we have survived,” she corrected. “If I have to whore myself out for food, medicine, or whatever else we need, I’ll do it every time.”

I dipped my head in a swift nod as I avoided her lingering gaze. The least I could do for someone who’d survived here a year alone.

Running a hand through her hair, she blew out a breath. “Speaking of, he’s supposed to be stopping by later today. Be asleep when he comes.”

“Right, right,” I mumbled as I tucked a few curls behind my rounded ears.

My eyes traced the three lines etched into the stone wall. I’d carved those lines with my fingernails the day they’d thrown me into this cell. By the time a single guard noticed, my fingers were already bloody and raw.

I hadn’t realized I’d done it either.

Oddly enough, nothing brought me more comfort than those three lines. They were a testament to my resolve and determination to survive in such unlivable conditions.

As Moria withdrew into the shadows of her cell, the light flickered once… twice before oil coated the wick, snuffing the flame entirely .

Darkness filled my heart as I stared into a blissful, opaque night.

Moria didn’t need to know I was planning to snatch the keys Gayle kept in his pocket. If it meant we’d achieve freedom outside of these stone walls, I’d steal them by any means necessary.

I was tired of rotting away.