Bound by Darkness (Bound By Series)

6. The Messenger

Chapter 6

The Messenger

MORIA

She did not return.

Her cell remained empty except for the passing rodents munching on bits of hay and rotten food. Not even the guards minded her absences during meal times or grounds work.

She’d vanished. My friend and the one man who had last seen her had disappeared. Gayle had not returned to complete his part of the bargain.

I was grateful for his absence, the bruises on my thighs still healing, but I couldn’t shake the desperation of wanting to see him again. If I saw him, he’d tell me where she’d gone.

Dipping my fingers into the water basin, the murky water pooled in my hand as I cupped it to my parched lips. It left a gritty texture behind as I swallowed handful after handful.

Being in this cell, this prison, grew to become torture without her bubbly attitude and constant bickering. Time dragged slowly as my fingers picked at the matted knots in my wavy hair.

A sigh left my cracked lips as I tossed bits of stone through the iron bars. An existential nothingness awaited me if I didn’t figure out a plan to escape.

She would not have left without saying goodbye, and that frightened me. Had the King finally called upon her? On the casting she hid from others? Or maybe that Lord did take her, transferring Thalia to his province. If that was true, she’d at least have stability. Food, shelter—a place to call home.

My head rested against hay as I pictured her dressed in fine gowns befitting the treatment she deserved. It was a life she would hate, but a life that wouldn’t kill her.

Footsteps reverberated through the catacombs, heavier and louder as they approached the direction of my cell.

My face perked as I scurried to the iron bars, my eyes peering into the dim lighting. Maybe it would be her this time. Maybe?—

A man emerged from the shadows, dressed in a gray waistcoat and black pants, stark against the prison filth. He stopped in front of my cell.

My body slumped at the realization, my hands gently wrapping around the iron texture. It wasn’t her. It never was, and I wasn’t sure why I even bothered to look anymore.

The man fixed his spectacles, his hands neatly trimmed and adjourned with silver rings as he pulled a parchment paper from inside his coat. He unfolded it delicately, careful to unfurl every corner as he cleared his throat.

His voice shook the cobwebs as he read, “Dear daughter, I have heard of your endearing time spent in prison, and yet, it seems you still do not grasp the terms of your punishment. I am growing frustrated with your progress and your loyalty to your House. As such, I am sending you to Galar with the King’s blessing. I do hope this will shed some light on the half-breed you have befriended. It’s a grave mistake I hope Galar will fix. Know your place, and do not disappoint me further. ”

The parchment curled shut as he shoved it away, his face a mask of calm.

“That’s… that’s it?” I asked to no one in particular.

The man adjusted his spectacles again, his nose wrinkling from the stench. “That is all.”

My fingers dug into the iron. “When?”

The man brushed dirt from his shirt. “I don’t understand.”

“When… when am I being transferred?” My fingers burned as they gripped the smooth bars. Even here, he still found me.

“Tonight,” he uttered. “I suggest sleeping as much as you can.” His head dipped into a gentle bow. “Courtesy of your father. He wishes to see you succeed and back home to Raha for the winter solstice.”

I shoved pieces of brown hair behind my pointed ears. “Succeed? He’s sentenced… sentenced me to my death!”

The man shrugged as he flicked a piece of lint from his well-tailored coat. “I am but a messenger who serves your father.” He gave a curt bow. “If there are no further complaints?—”

“Wait,” I said, my hand reaching as far as it would go with the chains lugging them down.

His eyes drifted to mine.

“Why now? Why… why does he care about me now?”

“I do not know,” he said before heading into the shadows cast by the lone oil lamp.

I wanted to scream at him as he left.

I wanted to launch visceral words at him so he could tell my father, but I found my words stuck in the back of my throat.

I was no longer a High Fae’s daughter tossed into this cell. Only a skeleton remained of my former self from the years of torment my father deemed as punishment .

Galar.

He was sending me to Galar—the one place no one ever returned alive.

If he wanted me dead, he had found his mark.