Chapter 35

Claire had tried to keep my spirits up, but even her kind words couldn’t hide the truth. This kingdom was poor, and most of its people were barely surviving. I’d only seen glimpses of the poverty outside these castle walls, but Claire’s stories filled in the rest. Most families could only afford one meal a day, if that. I’d often wondered how they survived, knowing that their king and his son lived in luxury while they starved.

I glanced around the room, taking in the worn-down furniture and the faint smell of mildew that seemed to cling to everything. It was a far cry from the lavish quarters of Kaden’s sleeping chamber, but at least I wasn’t in the dungeons anymore. The memory of that place sent a shiver down my spine.

The one time I’d been thrown down there, it felt like I’d been abandoned in a pit of despair. The air was damp and heavy, filled with the scent of rot and decay. The walls seemed to close in on me, suffocating me with every breath. I had spent days locked up in that hellhole without food, without water, without light and a bed. The cold had seeped into my bones, and I’d wrapped my arms around myself, trying to keep the last bit of warmth from escaping my body. Each night had been a battle to stay awake, to stay alive. I had promised myself then that I would never let them break me, no matter how badly they tried.

I pushed the memory away, not wanting to relive it. I turned from the mirror, my reflection haunting me, and made my way to the bed, careful to move slowly. Every step sent a jolt of pain through my ribs, and I winced, but I was grateful that I could walk at all. I had been lucky this time. Claire had done what she could to patch me up, sneaking in bandages and salves to help with the swelling. Without her, I wasn’t sure I would’ve made it through the last few days.

The door creaked open, and I looked up to see Claire slipping into the room, balancing a tray in her hands. Her usual soft knock was absent today, as if she were too anxious to make any noise. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and dark circles under her eyes told me she hadn’t been sleeping well either. She gave me a small smile, trying to hide the worry that etched her features.

“ I brought you some food,” she said, setting the tray down on the table next to my bed. “ It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.”

I glanced at the dry bread and thin soup she’d brought. It wasn’t much, but it was more than I’d had in days.

“ Thank you, Claire,” I said, my voice hoarse. “ You don’t have to keep doing this.”

She shrugged, brushing off my gratitude like it was nothing. “ You need your strength,” she replied, her tone firm. “ If you’re going to get out of here, you need to keep up your energy.”
I nodded, picking up the bread and tearing off a small piece. I took a bite, savoring the bland taste. It was dry and hard, but it was food, and right now, that was enough. Claire watched me closely, as if making sure I was really eating. I could see the guilt in her eyes every time she looked at me, like she blamed herself for what was happening.

“ Have you seen Kyrell?” I asked after swallowing the bread, my voice low.

Claire shook her head. “ No, he’s been busy with meetings. I heard he’s planning something, but I don’t know what.” She hesitated, glancing at the door as if she were afraid someone might be listening. “ It’s probably better that he’s not around. Gives you time to heal.”

I nodded, relief washing over me. The last thing I needed was another confrontation with Kyrell. I could still feel his fists slamming into me, each blow echoing through my mind like a drumbeat. The fear, the helplessness—it all came rushing back whenever I thought of him. But I couldn’t let myself be paralyzed by fear. Not now.


*****

I sat by the window, gazing at the barren landscape beyond the palace walls, my mind drifting to thoughts of escape. Claire had promised she’d help me find a way out, but doubt clung to me like a shadow. Could I really trust her? She was risking so much for me, but every day that passed made my chances of survival feel slimmer. I was trapped in a kingdom cursed and cruel, ruled by a king who saw me as nothing more than a pawn in his twisted game.

I ran a finger along the cold glass, tracing the outline of a distant mountain. The barrier that kept this kingdom locked away from the world loomed like a ghost in my thoughts. Somehow, I had passed through it without dragon blood, without any clear reason why. Kyrell’s obsession with finding the one who bare the blue flame to break the curse only deepened the mystery. What role did my elemental powers play in this tangled web of magic and deceit? It was a witch who had cursed Dravonia, not an elemental. So why me? Why now?

The questions buzzed in my head, a constant hum that wouldn’t let me rest. I tried to focus on the small comforts of my room, but even those felt tainted. I dreaded the moment Kyrell would return, his presence as oppressive as the chains he’d forced me to wear. He always came with the same demands, and the thought of being at his mercy again made my skin crawl.

A soft knock broke the silence, startling me from my thoughts. The door creaked open, and I tensed, expecting Claire’s gentle face. But it wasn’t her. It was Madam Windfield, her stern expression framed by the shadows of the dimly lit hallway. The last time she’d been in my chamber, it was to bring my chains for the Harvesting, her cold eyes watching as I locked them around my wrists. She never came unless it was to deliver bad news.

“ Come,” she ordered, her voice sharp and unyielding.

“ Where to?” I asked, my voice quivering with unease. Fear laced every syllable.

Madam Windfield’s eyes narrowed; her patience thin. “ Just come, child,” she snapped, gesturing for me to follow.

I hesitated, my mind racing with dark possibilities. Was Kyrell back? My heart pounded as icy fear spread through my veins. I wasn’t ready to face him again. Not now. Not ever. But Madam Windfield’s glare was unrelenting, and I knew I had no choice. Slowly, I rose from the windowsill, my movements stiff and careful, each step sending a jolt of pain through my bruised body.

Madam Windfield led me through the winding corridors of the palace, the air growing colder and heavier with each turn. The walls seemed to close in on us, the flickering torchlight casting eerie shadows that danced like specters. The deeper we went, the more my dread grew. I had been dragged through these halls before, and it had never ended well.

We stopped in front of a large set of double doors, their dark wood engraved with symbols I didn’t recognize. Madam Windfield pushed them open, revealing a grand dining hall. The room was vast, its high ceilings adorned with chandeliers that dripped with crystals. A long table stretched across the center, covered with platters of food, fruits, and meats that filled the air with the scent of roasted spices. My stomach growled involuntarily, the smell reminding me just how long it had been since I’d eaten a proper meal.

But my hunger faded the moment I saw who was seated at the head of the table.

It wasn’t Kyrell. It was Hezron, his son.

Hezron sat casually, one leg crossed over the other, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. He was dressed in a fine, deep red coat with gold embroidery, his deep-red hair slicked back in a style that tried too hard to emulate his father’s regality. He was young, handsome even, but there was a coldness in his gaze that made my skin prickle. If Kyrell was a storm, violent and unpredictable, Hezron was the snake in the grass, waiting to strike when you least expected it.

“ How nice to see you again,” Hezron said, his voice dripping with mockery.

I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to turn and run. I hated him almost as much as I hated his father. Hezron had a cruel streak that Kyrell lacked, one that thrived on the suffering of others. He didn’t need brute force to get what he wanted—he preferred manipulation, twisting words and minds until his victims were too tangled to escape.