Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4: The Cell

"Wake up, Princess."

Water hits my face. Cold. I gasp. My eyes open.

Darius stands over me. Clean. Smiling. The same smile from breakfast. From our wedding. From seven years of lies.

The cell is stone. Small. No window. One door. My hands are tied behind me, rope biting my wrists. My face throbs where they hit me.

"Where is he?" I ask. My voice is rough. Smoke still in my throat. Fear in my heart.

"Safe." Darius kneels. His shoes are shiny. Black. No blood. No dirt. Perfect. "With his real mother. Lila is feeding him breakfast right now. Pancakes. His favorite. She is so happy to have him back."

I lunge. The chains stop me. Metal screams. My wrists bleed fresh. "You can't keep me here."

"I can." He touches my cheek. I bite at him. He laughs. Pulls back. "For fifteen days. Until the election is over. Until I am King. Then you will be my prisoner. Or my wife again. Your choice, Fina. Behave, and I will let you see him sometimes. Fight, and you disappear. Forever. No one will find you. No one will look."

"I will never—"

"You will." He stands. Brushes off his knees. "When you realize no one is coming. Kael is dead. Burned in the fire with his dogs. You're alone. As you always were. As you always will be. As you deserve to be."

He walks out. The door locks. Heavy. Final.

I sit in the dark. My face burns where he touched me. My wrists bleed. My heart hammers against my ribs. I think I might die here. I think I might deserve it.

I think about the cake. This morning. The phone call. Seven years of my life, ground into red velvet and ash. Seven years of being less than nothing.

I am not nothing. I am King Alaric's daughter.

I pull at the chains. They are old. Rusted. Weaker than they look. I pull harder. My shoulders scream. The rope gives a little. A little more. I am not done. I am not beaten.

Footsteps. Outside. I stop. Pretend to sleep. Head down. Breathing slow.

The door opens. Someone small creeps in. Not Darius. Too quiet. Too careful.

"Princess?" A whisper. Old. Cracked. "Are you awake?"

I open my eyes. An old woman. Gray hair. Rags. She carries bread and water. She moves like she is used to shadows. Like she has been here forever.

"Who are you?"

"Alara's maid. Your mother's maid." She puts the bread down. It is hard. Old. Better than nothing. "I have been here twenty-six years. Since they took you. Since they killed the King. Since the world went wrong."

My heart stops. "My mother?"

"Alive. Hidden. Vera keeps her to use her blood. Royal blood. Strong healing. Strong magic." The woman touches my face. Her fingers are cold. Gentle. Like my mother might be. "You look like her. Same eyes. Same stubborn jaw. She never broke. Neither will you. I have been waiting for you."

I grab her hand. "Help me. Please. I beg you."

"I can't. But I can tell you," she looks at the door, listens hard, "the chains are weak. North wall. Third stone from floor. Hollow behind. Tunnel to the river. Old escape route. King Alaric built it. For times like this. For days when darkness wins."

"Why help me?"

"Because Vera killed my sister. Because you are the true Queen. Because I have waited twenty-six years for this day. Because I am tired of waiting." She presses something into my hand. A key. Small. Metal. Cold. "For the door at tunnel's end. Kael waits there. He never left. He watched the house burn. Watched them take you. He has been waiting for dark. For you."

"Kael? He's alive?"

"He doesn't leave." She stands. "Hurry. Darius visits at dawn. Six hours. Maybe less. Go now. Don't look back."

She leaves. The door locks. I am alone again. But not. Not anymore.

I eat the bread. Drink the water. I pull the chains until my hands are numb. Until blood runs down my arms. The rope gives. The chains clatter to the floor.

I crawl to the north wall. Third stone. I kick it. Once. Twice. The stone moves. Dust falls. A hole. Dark. Small. Smaller than me.

I squeeze through. The tunnel is tight. Wet. Cold. I crawl on my belly. My wedding dress tears. My knees bleed. I don't care. I crawl for an hour. Maybe more. Time means nothing. Only forward. Only out. Only survival.

The tunnel opens. River. Night. Stars. Cold air burns my lungs. Freedom.

A hand grabs my ankle. I scream.

"Quiet." Kael. Bloody. Burned. Alive. His arm is blackened. His face is cut. His eyes are wild. "Darius's patrol. Two minutes. Run."

He pulls me up. We run. Into the trees. Fast. My bare feet bleed. I don't stop. I don't look back. I run for my life. I run for my son.

We reach a truck. Old. Rusted. Elena waits. Different clothes. Different truck. She looks at me. At my blood. My torn dress. She says nothing. Her face is stone.

"Get in," she says.

I stop. "You betrayed me."

"He has my family." Her eyes are red. Swollen. "My sister. My mother. In his cells. For years. But I know where Marcus is. Vera's estate. East wing. Third floor. I will take you there. I will help you get him back."

"No." Kael opens the truck door. "We go to Moon Summit first. Register. Win the crown. Then we take him legally. With power. With proof. With the law on our side."

"He's my son, my blood in my heart—"

"He's leverage." Kael grabs my shoulders. Hard. "Darius wants you to run to Marcus. To get caught. To miss the deadline. To prove you're unstable. A mother who cannot think. A woman who cannot rule. Think, Fina. Think like a Queen, not a mother. Think like a survivor."

I think. My hands shake. Marcus is six. Scared. Calling for me. Crying in a strange bed. Wanting his mama.

But Kael is right. Darius knows me. Knows I will come. Knows I will charge in, heart first, brain second. He is waiting. He is ready.

"Okay," I say. My voice is stone. "Summit first. Then we burn him down. Then I take my son."

I get in the truck. Elena drives. Kael sits beside me. His burned arm rests between us. I touch it. He doesn't flinch. He doesn't pull away.

"You came back," I say.

"I told you." He doesn't look at me. "I don't leave. Not ever. Not you."

The truck moves. I look back at the cell. At the stone I crawled through. At the dark I escaped. At the woman I was.

Thirteen days left.

I will win. Then I will take my son.

And Darius will pay for every lie. Every touch. Every year. Every tear.