The way he seems to always know the patrols, when meals will be served, and what certain things mean.
Suddenly, it all makes a little more sense.
“You used to work here, didn’t you? As a guard.”
Rys holds up a finger as if making an important distinction. “Once I was one of the Fae Queen’s honored guard. I served her, and I ruled this prison.” He drops his hands at his side. “Not anymore. Now Melisandre is dead and I didn’t even have the chance to watch as the Summer King ended her. What a shame. I would’ve liked to have kicked her head, see how far it could’ve flown.”
His bloodthirsty comment catches me off guard. I forgot for a moment that, despite his outward appearance, he’s as dangerous a monster as any that I’ve met since I’ve been in Faerie. Worse, because he’s actually locked in here.
And, besides being told he’s a traitor, I still have no idea what he did to be imprisoned inside of Siúcra.
Part of me wants to ask him that very question. However, now that I know about his former profession… that’s all that matters to me right now.
Maybe my hopes of escaping this place aren’t completely crushed just yet—
“You worked here… do you know how to get out? Not to be executed,” I clarify, “but to escape?”
“Escape? Oh, Leannán. There is no escape.”
—then again, maybe they are.
I can’t hide my pout. My pout, or my surprise when he softens his tone and says, “Let me correct myself. There’s no escape without a sacrifice.”
“Sacrifice? What do you mean, sacrifice?”
“The magic of Siúcra is impressive. To keep all manner of faerie folks and beasties in… to trap the cruelest and most dangerous of us all… it runs on its prisoners. Once we’re inside, Siúcra won’t let us go without a price and, believe me when I tell you, it’s steep.”
“You mean, like gold coins?”
Rys shakes his head. “Coins are worthless to Siúcra. It will only accept the most cutting sacrifice before it’ll even hear a petition. But what’s the point? For me, there’s nothing I have that I want to keep badly enough to give it away. You understand? Besides, why try? I have no intention of ever leaving Siúcra’s embrace. No need. I’m right where I deserve to be.”
“Why?” I gulp, thinking of what he just said. “Because you’re dangerous??
??
“Ah.” He grins. “Don’t forget cruel, too.”
Silly Hel.
How can I forget that?
With the strange lockdown in place, there’s no evening meal.
There’s no breakfast, either.
It isn’t long before the cramps sneak up on me. They’re like my period on steroids, the way my guts twist themselves into knots. It’s a constant ache with a few sharp, shooting pains to remind me that my body is craving something I can’t give it.
The same thing happened on my second day of traveling with Bram in the locked caravan. He sat up front, guiding the horses, while I was trapped in an iron cage attached at the back. The captain ordered him to bring me straight to the prison and he did, though he was kind enough to make sure I had water and could pee if I had to.
Food didn’t seem so important at first. I was pretty much in disbelief that that was happening, that I was really being transported to fairy jail. I didn’t have it in me to be hungry—until the cramps started.
That night, Bram stopped so his horses could graze. He checked on me, to make sure I hadn’t figured out how to escape or something, and he found me curled up in a little ball near the back of the cage, moaning in pain.
It’s the faerie food. When I was tucked away in Veron’s palace, he kept bringing me plates upon plates of fruit. It didn’t seem so suspicious at the time. Now I know that, once you eat faerie food, it’s the only thing that fills you up. Without it, I’m not just hungry.
I hurt.
Thirty-six hours. That’s about how long it takes before I start to notice the cramps. If I had some Midol, or a heating pad, I might be able to get past the worst of it. I wouldn’t be satisfied, but I wouldn’t feel like taking one of the guards’ swords and tearing my insides out for some relief.