Troubled (The Binding Chronicles #4)

11. A Gods-damned Cell

A Gods-damned Cell

S ilver surrounded Marius, but nothing was comforting about planes of the future today. Shivers wracked his body, his head pounded, and an obsidian wall slammed across his memories when he tried to remember why he had come to See the future.

He groaned. He’d been in the forest with Vivienne, returning the injured woman to her village, and then…

Nothing.

He couldn’t remember a single thing that had happened after that.

The obsidian wall was sleek; no matter how he prodded it, he couldn’t find a single crack.

A frown pulled at his lips as he bent and picked up a path of the future. The moment he touched it, darkness flooded his mind. A black mist shrouded the entire future from his sight, and he couldn’t See a single thing.

“Strange,” he muttered.

He tossed that path aside and picked up the next one. It was covered in ink .

He threw that one away, grabbing another. And another.

Each one was black and empty.

He kept searching.

Hours passed, and searching the silver planes depleted his energy, but he kept going.

And then, when yet another path was filled with nothing but blackness, Marius gasped as an old memory pushed to the forefront of his mind. His fingers spasmed, and he stumbled back as he realized what the empty paths meant.

Kydona have mercy on him. If he was right…

Oh gods.

He was going to be sick.

Using what felt like the final dredges of his magic, Marius left the silver planes behind. What usually took seconds felt like hours, and for a moment, he was bodiless. His soul hung in the in-between, and everything was too light.

And then, it was over.

He returned to himself, his mind settling in his body once more.

Cold.

His teeth chattered, and goosebumps littered his flesh. It was like he’d been dropped onto an iceberg. The air was frigid, and the ground felt like it was made of ice.

Marius’s stomach churned, and his head pounded against his skull. His eyes were shut, and he should have opened them, but he was so tired from using his magic. So worn out.

His head fell back and hit a cold wall. He should’ve been worried about that. A part of him knew that walls had no business being in the forest, but he was too tired and cold to care.

He hadn’t even known it was possible to be so cold, which felt like a feat in and of itself since he lived in a land where it snowed for ten months out of the year.

No one in their right mind would ever call Castle Sanguis warm, but right now, he would do anything to be inside its stone walls. The violet Light Elf orbs that lit the hallways didn’t give off heat, but at least they provided the illusion of warmth.

There was no such thing here.

He focused on his breathing until the light-headedness abated.

Hugging his arms around himself and clenching his jaw shut to prevent his teeth from clattering, he forced his eyes open.

A curse slipped from his lips, and his breath clouded in front of him. By the gods, the empty paths of the future had been disconcerting, but this was even worse.

Dark, damp walls surrounded him on three sides. White shards of frost crept along the stone floor. Where a fourth wall should have stood was an iron gate. There were no windows, and the only light came from down the hallway. A small, covered clay pot sat in the corner, and a ratty blanket had been tossed haphazardly near his feet.

A cell.

He was in a gods-damned cell.

“Vivienne?” he called out, his voice raspy from disuse. “Can you hear me?”

Nothing.

He yelled her name again.

Silence.

A pit yawned in his stomach, and bile rose in his throat.

So much for proving that he could take care of himself. He was imprisoned, and his bodyguard was missing.

Here he was, thinking that nothing could ever compete with the horrific circumstances he’d experienced before his sister and her husband took the Eleytan throne, but apparently, he was wrong.

How in the gods’ name was he ever going to explain this to Luna?

This would’ve been helpful to See. Not blackness. Not nothing.

Marius’s head fell back, and he cursed. Not for the first time in his life, he wished his magic was stronger. Maybe if he’d been a better, more powerful Fortune Elf, he could have prevented this from happening.

But he wasn’t powerful enough to stop it. He wasn’t strong enough.

He wasn’t enough.

Marius’s vision swam, and his soul ached. He’d never felt more useless than he did at that very moment. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t Look ahead right now. His magic was depleted, and he was practically mortal.

In the darkness, he broke.

His chest ached.

His soul twisted.

His weak, mortal body groaned with fatigue.

In the darkness, a tear slipped down his cheek. It fell for him, for this situation, and for the fact that try as he might, he would never be as strong as even the weakest vampire.

Time slipped on.

Marius wasn’t sure whether minutes or hours passed before a low, humorless laugh came from the hallway beyond the bars.

“Ah, he’s awake.”

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and every part of him was on high alert. The speaker was hidden, but the remaining dredges of his halfling magic swirled in warning in his veins.

Marius curled his fists and rose unsteadily to his feet. His limbs ached, his joints were stiff, and cold permeated his entire being. Even so, something told him he needed to be standing for this. Whatever it was .

“Who are you?” He infused as much princely authority into his voice as he could manage, considering the circumstances. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. “Show yourself.”

A gruff chuckle.

Another voice, deeper than the first, added, “Did you hear that, Lucien? He’s giving us orders as if he isn’t the one behind bars.”

“I heard, Artie.” Lucien guffawed, the sound devoid of warmth.

Marius ignored the laughter. “There must be some mistake.”

“Nope.” Lucien popped the “p.” “No mistake.”

The man spoke with such confidence that, for a moment, Marius wondered if he and Vivienne had committed a crime. That didn’t seem like something he would do, though.

“We didn’t do anything wrong.” He would remember if they had, right?

“That’s what you’re going with?” The speaker, a burly man with dirty blond hair and a crooked nose, stepped out of the shadows and came to stand in front of Marius’s cell. His lips curled into a cruel smirk, and violence sparked in his brown eyes.

“You,” Marius hissed.

Memories came flooding back.

The snowstorm, bringing the woman to the villagers, anger, a man pulling him off his horse.

This man. The one Lucien had called Artie.

Marius curled his hands into fists, confusion melting into anger. “Why have you done this? Where is my companion?”

The last thing he remembered was Vivienne running into the forest. Did she get away? Maybe she was getting help.

Hope flared in his chest, but it was quickly squashed when Artie shook his head and sneered, “You and your companion , as you call the leech, aren’t in the position to ask questions. Not right now. ”

The pit in his stomach expanded. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll get your chance to defend yourselves during your trial.” Lucien scowled. “Although I’m not sure what kind of plausible defense you can come up with for murder.”

Murder .

The word echoed around the cold cell, and it felt like the ground shifted beneath his feet.

Marius reared back, eyes bulging. “What are you talking about?”

“You heard me.” Lucien spat, a glob of saliva landing on Marius’s cheek.

He wiped it away with his sleeve and stared at the two men in horror. “I don’t understand.”

How did things get to this?

“He doesn’t understand,” Artie mocked, his features hardening. “Are you really that dense? Did you think you could just kill a dozen of our men and get away with it?”

Lucien cursed. “Murderers, the both of you.”

What in the gods’ names were they talking about?

Marius gripped the icy bars, using them to stand upright. Pinpricks of pain stabbed his fingers like cold needles, but he held on.

“I don’t…”

“We found their bodies this morning,” Artie said. “The vampire killed them.”

Horror gripped Marius’s stomach, and a tremor ran through him. What were the chances the highwaymen came from this village?

The weight of Marius’s many mistakes pressed against him, stealing his breath.

“It was self-defense,” he muttered. “Not murder.”

He thought his voice was quiet, but both men turned and stared at him .

Damn.

Add that to his list of mistakes.

“So, you do know what we’re talking about.” Lucien smiled triumphantly. “Good. You’ll be tried three nights from now. Should be a short process.”

“Sounds like he admitted guilt to me,” Artie agreed.

Marius shook the icy bars, their rattle echoing through the dungeon. “No, you can’t do this.”

Murder.

The word was a clanging cymbal echoing through his mind.

This was never supposed to happen.

“I assure you, we can, and we will,” Lucien said.

That was why the silver planes were dark.

Marius had suspected it before, but this confirmed it. Fortune Elves were incapable of Seeing their own deaths, which meant that unless something drastically changed, he would not have a future in a few short days.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he swallowed.

“Please, I beg you, send a message to the king.” Marius widened his eyes, uncaring that he was begging. “He’ll want to hear about this.”

“The king?” Artie laughed, elbowing his friend. “Imagine that. The king would want to hear about two murderers up north.”

“He does!” Marius protested, shaking the bars again. “Please!”

Laughter was their only response as they turned and walked away, ignoring his continued cries.

Between the cold and Marius’s growing hunger pangs, time passed in agonizing slowness .

After the two men left, the hallway remained empty. He’d yelled at first, only stopping when he realized it was a futile effort. The cold had gotten worse, and even the ratty blanket they had provided him didn’t ward off the chill.

He wasn’t sure if hours or an entire day had gone by before a shuffling reached his ears. He pulled himself up from where he’d been sitting on the ground, gripping the bars as footsteps came from down the hall.

“Hello?” he called out, his voice hoarse from disuse.

There was no response, but the footsteps grew louder.

Marius pressed his face against the bars, peering down the hallway.

A young woman in her late teens approached him. She wore a white apron over a dark blue dress, her brown hair was twisted back in a bun, and a fur-lined cloak hung across her shoulders. Her boots clicked as she walked down the hall, her fingers clutching a wooden tray where a cup, bowl, and slice of bread balanced precariously.

She stopped in front of his cell, sliding the tray through a crack in the iron bars. Her mouth was pinched in a line, and she refused to look at him.

Marius took hold of the tray but didn’t let go. “Wait.”

She jumped as if he’d shouted at her.

Inwardly cursing, he softened his voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

The woman’s gaze was glued to the ground, but seeing as how she was still there, he figured he should continue.

“What’s your name?” Marius asked quietly.

She trembled like an autumnal leaf, ready to fall at the slightest breeze. Her lip quivered, and tears gathered at the base of her eyes.

By the gods, what had they told her about him?

“Please,” he murmured. “My name’s Marius. ”

Her fingers loosened around the tray, and she took a step back. Then another. Damn.

“I-I-I can’t talk to you.” She walked backward as if she was afraid to turn her back on him. “Papa said?—”

Sensing that his one opportunity was slipping away, Marius threw caution away and blurted, “I just need you to send a message.”

The young woman stilled; her retreat momentarily paused.

“That’s all I’m asking for,” he hurriedly added.

Her hands flexed at her sides. “A message?”

Given that she wasn’t running away screaming, he continued, “Yes. Just one, to Castle Sanguis.”

The royals employed hundreds of raven shifters and other nocturnal creatures whose primary duty was to deliver messages across Eleyta. Hopefully, there would be one such messenger posted nearby.

“To… to the castle?” She paled and shook her head. “I?—”

“Please.” Marius hated that desperation leaked into his voice, but he couldn’t help it. “I need your help.”

“I don’t?—”

He gripped the bars. “I assure you, the king will reward you handsomely for helping me.”

Life in the northern villages was hard. Marius’s brother-in-law and sister did as much as possible to make it easier, but there was nothing they could do about the harsh weather or the distance that divided the northerners from the rest of the continent.

The woman hitched a breath. Her features softened, and her brown eyes rose to meet his for the first time. She bit her lip. “H-H-He’ll pay?”

“Yes.” Marius was sure the king and queen would be willing to do anything to help him. He’d never doubted his sister’s love for him, even for a moment .

The woman chewed on her lip for a long moment before she dipped her chin. “I’ll try,” she whispered. “No promises, but I’ll try.”

It was better than nothing.

Exhaling, he loosened his grip on the bars. “Thank you. Here’s what I need you to say.”

He spoke slowly, picking his words with care. He had one chance to do this, and he didn’t want to mess it up.

After she’d repeated the message twice, she backed up. “I need to go. Papa will get suspicious if I linger.”

Marius stared at her as she left, only sinking to the floor once he was alone again. He nibbled on the stale bread, barely tasting it as he fervently prayed that she would be able to deliver the message.

He couldn’t help but feel like she was their only hope.