Chapter 1: Journey to Doranelle

I’ve no doubt that Maeve will take me back to Doranelle. After all, Doranelle is Maeve’s stronghold; the centre of her Fae realm for countless centuries. If she’s careless, I’ll die of starvation or thirst before she can get me back to her palace. It’s a long journey, and opening this iron box on the journey to feed me will risk weakening the Fae Queen’s stranglehold over my magic power. Unfortunately, Maeve isn’t likely to be careless. She’ll use her own magic to speed her entourage’s journey home. She needs me alive until the three wyrdkeys are in her possession. As the most magically gifted among the few survivors of Mala’s line, I’m the best means by which Maeve can obtain them.

My magic power is very different from Maeve’s. She can manipulate and control living beings, but only a few inanimate objects. And certainly not wildfire. Only Mala’s descendants can use wildfire. Maeve manipulated me into exhausting my power before springing her ambush. Eventually Maeve will need me to restore and use my power to achieve her deadly ambitions. But she’ll only permit me to do that once she’s certain that I’m a broken husk; permanently enslaved to her every whim. She wants to humiliate me; shame me; make me feel worthless. All hope abandoned. Tormenting me until I beg for a death which she will take pleasure in denying. At least, until I’ve delivered the wyrdkeys into her hands. Even then she will only allow me an excruciatingly slow and painful death.

Free of these iron restraints, my power will restore itself in only a few days. Access to even a small amount of power would enable me to heal my wounds. But iron dampens any magic wielder’s ability to rejuvenate and use power. And I’m encased in more than enough iron to prevent any use of my magic, even if it was fully restored.

My bloody back presses against the rough iron floor of the casket, sending ripples of pain through my body. I’m no stranger to pain. The year I spent as a slave in the brutal mines of Endovier introduced me to a life of hopelessness; where excruciating pain was a daily occurrence. I survived that. I’ll survive this. The darkness around me would drive many people insane. Again, my experience in Endovier has taught me how to endure. Besides, this darkness isn’t total, there are small air holes in the iron box above my face which allow some light as well as air to enter my prison.

Of course, all this is just a prelude to the cruelty and torture Maeve will be planning for me when we reach our destination. Only the knowledge that Maeve needs me to be able to function keeps me from total despair. For years I’ve been the target of the Fae Queen’s ambitions. She’s been biding her time until I learned how to reach and control wildfire. My own foolishness has given her an ample demonstration that I’ve acquired the relevant skills. I realised too late why my mother, Evalin, hid and protected me from her Fae kin, particularly the Fae Queen. Now I know what Maeve would have done earlier, had she been aware that I’d survived the slaughter that included the death of my parents ten years ago. After years of waiting, Maeve finally has me in her clutches.

For now, I console myself with the knowledge that Maeve secretly fears me. At least, until she can reduce me to a broken and obedient slave to her cruel demands. Only then will Maeve feel safe. Should my magic powers be fully restored while I’m unbroken, then I’m a threat to Maeve’s hold over the Fae. Whether my wildfire is strong enough to kill her is something that neither Maeve nor I can know. But the possibility is enough to make Maeve nervous, and very cautious in my handling. Hence all this iron encasing my wounded body.

I think about happier memories to divert my mind from the pain and my pending fate. Over the last year or so I’ve encountered many people I can now call friends. And many more who willingly call me their queen despite the opposition of those who currently occupy Terrasen. There are even a few who know me more intimately. My new husband, Rowan, in particular. The special tattoos Rowan marked on my back are probably torn from my body by Cairn’s whip. For that alone I want to make Cairn pay. But it is other aspects of Rowan that I deliberately allow to flood my mind.

Sex between Fae is never a gentle coupling. I’m part human, but I can also draw on all the usual Fae emotions and senses. Rowan carries scars on his back where I’ve left my mark during the wild ecstasy his male possession of my body drew from me. I’m hungry for that sensation again, but I know that denying me access to such feelings is just another instrument of torture Maeve will use against me. It’s probably one of the reasons Maeve has delayed her move until now. She wanted to make sure I experienced the incredibly wild sensations generated when a Fae female has sex ... even one who isn’t a pure-blood Fae. Teasing me with those sensations, but denying fulfilment, is a far more effective torture than Cairn’s whip.