Cursed by Malignant Magic (Once Upon A Curse)

Chapter 9

Chapter

Nine

M y hands were raw and bleeding from struggling against the rusty chains that bound me. The only thing keeping me going was my magic, but even that was fading fast.

I hung limply, too exhausted to try and break free again. Using my magic had weakened me, and the chains still had not given way. Shame washed over me, but in my exhausted state, I couldn't even muster the energy to feel it fully.

How ironic that just a few days ago I had been so determined to escape and been so sure that I could. Now, with no food or water, and a few minor beatings from the guards who hated my attitude, my energy and my attempt to flee had quickly been destroyed.

I could barely stand, my entire weight hanging from the chains. Every bit of my body ached, and I barely lifted my head as the door opened.

Once again, Legacy stepped into the cell, but she didn’t send the guards outside away this time.

"Want us to leave, my lady?" one of them asked.

“No.” Legacy's slender fingers lifted, revealing a gleaming canteen in her grasp.

I cocked my head, unsure of what exactly she held, but I trusted her more than anyone else among them. She had yet to hurt me like the others had, although I supposed that wasn’t saying much.

She said something to the guards, so low I couldn’t hear it, and they chuckled. It was an unkind sound that made my skin prickle.

Legacy stalked closer, leaving the door to my cell open. The metallic canteen glinted in the dim light, its shape and size foreign to me. Why did she have it? Was it for me?

“What do you want?” I asked.

“An answer.” Her eyebrows rose. “To a simple question.”

She held up the canteen. Time had begun to run together, and I had no idea how long it had been since I last had anything to eat or drink. Enough that my throat felt like it was on fire. Even if it was just water in that canteen, I was afraid of what I would say or do to get it.

I licked my dry lips. “What question?”

“What’s your name?”

I shook my head. It was all too easy. “I don’t believe that’s all you want.”

Legacy shrugged nonchalantly, her piercing gaze locking onto mine with a sense of determination. With effortless grace, she brought her free hand up to rest on her hip, while the other held the canteen tightly.

“You’re right,” she agreed, stepping closer.

She unstopped the canteen and tilted her head back, her throat flexing as she drank. I gritted my teeth.

“I want another kiss,” she said, stepping closer.

A few guffaws sounded from the men outside, but Legacy’s eyes looked soft, not cruel. She took another drink, less obviously this time, and buried one hand into my hair. I grunted in pain as she yanked my head back, and then her lips found mine.

I gasped in surprise as her cool, refreshing tongue parted my own lips. The sensation of water pouring into my parched throat from her mouth caught me off guard, and I struggled to swallow it down without choking. She placed a careful hand on my throat, steadying me as I took in the precious liquid.

Despite the unexpectedness of the moment yet again, I couldn't help but savor her soft, skilled kisses. A faint moan escaped my lips, and I knew the men outside the door would interpret it differently than the relief I felt from the water. Their minds would be filled with thoughts of lust and desire, while the water’s soothing trickle consumed mine.

Not the heat of her touch and the way her tongue danced against mine. Not at all.

I had to focus on survival first and foremost. Whatever Legacy was thinking now, I doubted she would spell it out for me, and I didn’t know if I could trust her even if she did.

She pulled away from me, leaving me blinking at her as she brought the canteen back to her lips. I shook my head, realizing that I shouldn’t act like I’d enjoyed that, even if I could barely admit to myself that I had.

“I know you can tell if I’m lying when you touch me.” I tried to lean back, to put a little more space between us despite my bindings.

I needed room to think, but Legacy just nodded.

“I can. But kissing you is a privilege. I don’t do that with many prisoners.” Her cheeks flushed, and she turned away.

Something shiny glinted on the side of her belt. Not keys—those appeared to be in her jacket pocket and jangled slightly when she walked—but something easier to lift from her than the keys, something I could maybe use. I just needed to get a little closer to her.

“Collie,” I blurted, the chains rattling as I shifted.

Legacy turned back, the narrow sigil above her eyebrow rising toward her flaming red hair. “Pardon?”

“You asked for my name. I’m called Collie.”

She frowned and stepped closer, studying me carefully.

I winced as I shifted again, my cuts and bruises howling a warning that the less I moved, the better.

“What is a collie?” she asked.

“I am.” I grinned without thinking, my split lower lip cracking open once more. Not that it mattered, considering the blood and mud already covering my face. I sobered, trying to keep my expression still so the pain in my lip might recede. “A collie is a dog. Often black and silver. They can smell magic.”

I'd had the silver in my black hair for as long as I could remember, despite my youth, although I had no idea as to why. The coloring was the main reason I had been called Collie for as long as I'd had a name, although I had been well into my youth before anyone had bothered to call me anything at all.

I must have had a mother and father, as I couldn't have spawned out of nowhere, but I'd never known them. If they had ever given me a name other than Collie, I didn't know it.

Legacy frowned again. “You can smell magic?”

If Tannin already knew, it didn’t really make a difference if Legacy did, too.

I tilted my head forward, the remnants of my braid tangling in the chain around my throat. “My hair is black and silver. That’s why they call me Collie.”

She gently freed my braid from the chain, twining her fingers through the strands as they snagged on her fingers. I flushed with shame, hating how much she had to work to see even the faintest glint of silver under the grease, blood, and dirt.

I hadn’t had a bath in days. I couldn’t have looked any worse unless I tried.

“Can you clean up any?” she asked, and then immediately cringed at the look I shot her, my head jerking back and tugging painfully on the hair still wrapped around her fingers. “Apologies. I realize now that was a foolish question.”

Still, I wasn’t ready to let it go so easily. Perhaps foolish, because she was one of two people in this camp who didn’t actively want to hurt me and the only one of those who wasn’t chained.

“Sure, with all of the copious clean water I get. Hell, I’d take dirty water at this point.” It hurt to speak, my throat burning from thirst; it was far worse than my hunger, which had faded to a dull ache in my gut that I was well familiar with.

“My apologies,” Legacy repeated.

She let go of my hair and stepped back then turned on her heel to leave. As she opened the door, I stretched out my leg as far as I could, hooked my big toe through the silver loop on her belt, and yanked.

The chains rattled loudly as I shifted, but she didn’t look back or say another word. She might have brought me water, albeit in a strange way, but she must’ve thought I was ungrateful to march out like that.

In the next cell, Varna spoke, her voice muted by the stone and metal between us. “Well done. You’ve managed to irritate the only one who doesn’t hate you.”

“ You don’t hate me,” I pointed out.

Turning my head took more energy than I was willing to expend, so I let it hang forward, my arms burning from being forced out to my sides for so long. If I could have sat, my legs would have wept with joy, but the chains wouldn’t allow that. The closest I could get was slumping against the wall as the chains stretched taut, and even that was painful.

“You get used to it,” Varna said, her voice softer than it had been before.

This time I did turn my head, wondering about my newest…maybe not a friend but certainly someone who understood what I was going through.

Who was she? Why was she here? Did it have something to do with magic, like me, or were they holding her for another reason? I knew about her talent, but surely there was someone else who could have done the same without being held prisoner. How had they learned about her gift in the first place? How had she ended up here?

I couldn’t think of many in the Montrose-Caputo war who weren’t related to magic in some way, but I also would never have considered holding someone captive and starving them to see what their magic would do.

My cheeks warmed, hot as a fever. I was no better. I did not hold anyone captive, but I had killed. I had killed with my magic, and I had done it well. I had only done it because Ehuna asked me to, but this was a war, and I had contributed to the piles of bodies, to the weeping family members left behind. I was not better than they were, just different.

Perhaps when I got out of here, I could try to be better. To do better.

I drifted my gaze to my big toe, tracing the delicate silver bracelet I’d stolen from Legacy. It had a break in the side, almost as though it could be used as an earring. Regardless, it was my key to freedom, a tool to harness and control my magic in order to break out of this prison.

My heart quickened with anticipation. Now was the time, and I was determined to take Varna with me.

Using my whole body and with agonizing pain, I slipped the bracelet up the wall behind my back with my foot, and then I bent and twisted my arm, using the chains to help guide the bracelet toward my wrist. Then, finally, I worked it onto my wrist, feeling its cool metal against my skin. The air thickened with tension and the faint scent of smoke as I focused on channeling my powers.

This was my chance, and I wouldn’t let it slip away.