Bound by Darkness (Bound By Series)

12. Meal Hall

Chapter 12

Meal Hall

MORIA

Headaches continued to plague me frequently, the persistent throbbing growing worse with each appearance of the moon. It wasn’t unusual for slaves to develop headaches due to the high altitude and lack of proper nutrients.

Tucked back in the farthest corner, it kept me away from prying eyes as I soothed the tender skin beneath.

I rested my head on the slick stone texture as I drank in its warmth. Summer’s rays refused to meet the tips of Galar’s peaks. The only caress of heat was found deep in the mines as sparks flew from worn axes and the shedding of body heat, but it was dangerous. Working in the mines meant death if one wooden beam collapsed—a death sentence of granite, rust-colored clay, and wet wood. Curling my arms around my chest, I kicked a jagged pebble as I watched it roll through the half-empty cave.

“Excuse me?” a young male with a gap between his front teeth said as he crouched beside me. “You’re friends with that girl… from earlier, right?”

He was around my age, in his late twenties, and would have been handsome if not for the rugged conditions of Galar etched deep into the cracks of his skin. A long, pink scar ran from the crown of his temple through his right eye, which was void of pigmentation.

“I’m not exactly her friend.”

The man bit his lip. “Well, she’s asking for you and says she won’t stop until you go over to her.”

A low groan left my lips. “Where is she?”

The man pointed to the back row where a few women scattered, their bodies hunched over from continued toil. “She’s there.”

“Thanks,” I muttered as I walked over to the plagued area.

Her bubbly laughter floated to my ears as I stepped closer, the remaining women and men scrambling away like a group of elk.

Placing a hand on my hip, I peered at her flushed skin, the apples of her cheeks soaked. “You called?”

Ellia giggled. “You came!”

Fever gripped her tightly as I sat beside her, her eyes swimming with lackluster mirth. “You don’t look too hot.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine. I’d be able to complete two shifts of mining.”

“Ellia, you can’t,” I warned. I placed my fingers against her glistening forehead. “Gods, you’re burning up.”

“I didn’t know I looked that hot.” She coughed once, a stupid smile still plastered across her face, revealing perfectly aligned teeth—a rare occurrence for someone destined to die.

“You’re being stupid.”

“You’re the stupid one,” Ellia shot back. “Whatever happened to your backbone? You let everyone walk over you like it’s nothing.”

“Life happened,” I grumbled.

“Maybe you grew old.”

My eyes narrowed. “Look. I came over here because you were scaring the other prisoners, and they asked. I checked on you, so I’m leaving.”

Ellia’s hand rose, her thin fingers unable to latch onto mine from the moisture lingering across her skin like a thin layer of oil. “Wait,” she heaved. “Please stay. You’re the first person to talk to me here.”

Her eyes were glassy as they traced the black and blue bruise radiating from my cheekbone to my lower jaw. “I didn’t mean for him to hurt you. It’s just… I can’t stand letting them control me.”

I huffed a laugh. “You sound like a friend of mine.” She reminded me so much of Thalia.

Ellia’s face perked, the fog clearing from her eyes. “She must be one hells of a friend to have you.”

“I’m the lucky one. She’s not afraid to speak her mind.” A smile lit my face as the memories flooded back. “Once, she had her finger broken because she stole food from King Hywell’s storage shed to feed to a young boy.”

She gaped. “You… you were in the Armas prison?”

“Yup. Since I was thirteen. I spent a year alone before my friend arrived.”

“Is… is it true you can see the fortress from the prison grounds?”

“Yes. Sometimes they dragged me to the King’s garden to pluck his weeds. You could make out the fortress from there, too.”

“I’d give anything to visit a fortress. My Lord promised to take me when I grew older. Well, until I landed here,” Ellia said as she placed her hands on her stomach.

I rested my head on my cracked knees, the skin blistering beneath as Ellia stared at the stalagmites. I should have left… should have turned away when she was okay, but I found myself leaning into her story as she continued.

She yawned, her eyes turning waxy. The smattering of dirt on her face bunched together, her nose wrinkling. “It’s a long story, but my mother hid me from my father. She said if he ever found out he’d produced a bastard, he would rather dispose of the evidence than live with the fact he’d created a half-breed.”

She clacked her teeth together. “Well, he found out what my mother had done. As punishment, he killed her in front of me and sentenced me here. He said it was an abomination I existed. That my human mother, a mere courtesan, managed to hide me.”

Her words struck a chord deep within my chest. Her father had also betrayed her. His blood and legacy. He’d turned her away. “How did you hide for so long?”

“My father, Lord Haville, traveled frequently. He… had many slaves. Another couple raised me on the property to protect my identity. They raised me as their daughter while I met my mother in darkness.” Ellia’s eyes drooped, her face contorting in a sheepish yawn. “What of you? How did you wind up… up at the prison?”

“It’s also a long story, but my father sent me away because I refused to be his pawn.”

The corner of Ellia’s lip rose slightly, a cheerful look for someone so close to death’s vices. “I knew you struggled like I did.”

My brows knitted together. “What gave you that impression?”

Ellia’s ring finger rubbed away the thickening sleep. “Your eyes. Your eyes are dull.”

The comment tore the fibers holding my strung-up heart apart as I reached into my pocket to thumb the necklace.

Blue shifted to me. “What’s in your pocket?”

“Nothing.”

Ellia’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not blind. What’s in your pocket? ”

I slowly pulled out the metallic locket, dangling the silver chain in front. “It’s a necklace my friend gave me. A gift of strength and resilience.”

“It’s lovely.” She grabbed it between her fingers and held it close to her eyes. “I had one like this. My mother gave it to me. It was my favorite until I lost it.”

Something knotted in my stomach, the acid bubbling and churning. A quiet, nagging filled my ears. It was her voice, screaming in the dark?—

“Then it is yours.”

“What?”

“Do not make me repeat myself.” More like before I snatched it back from her fingers, but a frail part of me knew she needed it more. She deserved a reminder of her home… of her mother. Thalia would have done it. Maybe that’s why her voice echoed in my head now.

Ellia smiled, but it didn’t light the depth of blue swirling in her eyes.

Wrapping a tender hand around the chain, fever shut her eyelids and lips as she succumbed to its potent effects.

The line moved at a kelpie’s pace.

It didn’t help as hunger bit into my stomach, further churning the acid or the fact I planned to steal a water pouch.

Ellia needed water. She needed it desperately, and with her strength fading, who knew when she’d be able to trek down the mountain for it?

The line ebbed and flowed as men and women shuffled forward, their feet kicking up dirt and rock. My hands were bogged down from the weight of iron, my shoulders slumping from hours toiling in the tepid air as my eyes flicked above to the archers.

They were positioned at every high vantage point, providing them with an aerial view. Any weird movement, any step out of line, and you’d take an arrow through the throat before the realization of death hit.

How did I know?

I’d already seen their impressive aim twice, just as another guard dragged a young woman’s body. He tossed it into the mist, her body plummeting from the heights of Galar.

I averted my gaze as my feet shifted in one solid conglomerate. I liked my blood where it rested.

“You!” the woman behind the table shouted as I neared the worn oak table. Her fingers directed me to the large pot in the middle of it. “Number.”

“207,” I answered.

The woman scribbled against her clipboard as I reached for the metal tray. “Wait.” Her finger traced the parchment paper, and I could hear the smile in her wicked voice. “You’re Moria Feyron. I knew I recognized you.”

I took a step as my fingers twitched toward the tray. I couldn’t afford another skipped meal, not as my stomach echoed its disapproval.

The woman’s hand was clammy as she grabbed the slender part of my wrist, yanking me against oak as it yawned in protest.

Her hand struck fast.

It met the bruised part of my flesh, my jaw cracking and splitting where she’d struck. I yelped as I stumbled, my hands instantly cradling my jaw as I blinked back saltwater.

“That’s for your father.” Her hand patted the unblemished side of my cheek, her fingers pausing. “Maybe think twice before outselling your own,” she spat before digging her fingers into my wrist. She twisted it over, illuminating the fresh ink stamped there. “You’re forever marked, slave.”

I averted my gaze and held my hands out for the metal tray—a coward.

I’d always be one.

Her fingers released my wrist with a push. “Next!” she screeched as the male beside her thrust the tray into my hand.

His gaze lingered on mine as he sneered. “High Fae trash.”

Avoiding his gaze, I hurriedly sat at an empty table. I shoveled brown mush into my mouth, the texture coating my tongue in a layer of wax as I hung my head low, fearing taking an arrow between my brows.

A low hiss swept through the camp as I prepared for death… but it did not find me. Instead, the arrow struck to my right as a man crumpled to the ground. All eyes shifted to the male, the arrow striking between his bushy brows. A makeshift knife rested in his hands, now covered in a thick layer of red.

The dumb bastard, but it was the cover I needed as I shoved the pouch of water resting on my tray under the table, working it underneath the hem of my pants.

Thank the heavens for tunics and Thalia’s stealing.

I’d witnessed it enough to reap its advantages, but I’d never tell her lest she steal something significant.

It had been a battle getting Ellia to drink the water. She grew weaker by the minute as I held the pouch to her lips, my body blocking the guards from noticing. Most of it spilled onto her pallid cheeks and cracked lips. After the third attempt, I nudged the water behind a groove in the cave.

Ellia breathed deeply, her chest rising and falling far too rapidly. “Moria?”

“Yes?” I answered as my fingers swept sections of her wet hair back.

“Can you… sing to me?” She clasped her hands together. “My mother used to sing old lullabies. Could you?”

My hand froze. “Ellia?—”

“Please.”

I shook my head. “I don’t sing anymore. Not even to the gods.”

Ellia’s lips turned into a slight frown as she turned over, her tiny body shivering. “Okay,” she said meekly as her eyes closed, shutting those blue gems away.

She passed out before I could protest further.

A sigh flowed from my lips as I stared at the stalagmites. What was I doing? I was risking death for a girl I’d just met. Maybe I wanted to protect her, or maybe… maybe it was the burning in my palm as I unfurled the piece of paper the woman had slipped to me during the commotion.

She’d placed it in my hand after the slap—a seamless transfer despite the radiating ache lingering in my cheekbone.

I unfurled the paper as I brought it close to my eyes. The light was dim, but I made out the few words scribbled on the paper?—

Beware black minerals.

Rebellion starts at dawn.

Shoving the paper into my mouth, I chewed quickly before swallowing it whole.

Rebellion. Here, at Galar.

My mind swirled with possibilities. Possibilities of no longer being a slave?—

But there had also been the warning.

What did it mean to beware of black minerals? Were they dangerous?

Coughing echoed in the cave as I mulled over those words again and again.

Beware black minerals.

Beware black minerals.