Chains and Broken Magic
Copyright© 2026 by Rachael Jane
Chapter 10: Ysolde: Chained to the Throne
The humans dress me in gold. Not real gold ... cheap cloth dyed to mimic it, heavy and gaudy, meant to shimmer under torchlight. The gown is cut too low, the sleeves too tight, the skirt too heavy. It isn’t meant to flatter. It is meant to display me as a trophy. A conquered queen. Proof of human dominion.
I stand still as the servants fuss around me, pinning fake jewels into my hair, fastening a collar of gilded metal around my throat. It isn’t a slave collar, not technically, but it may as well be one.
When they finish, one steps back and whispers, “The king awaits.”
Of course he does.
The throne room doors open with theatrical grandeur. Trumpets blare. The crowd murmurs. I step inside, spine straight, chin lifted, every movement deliberate. If they expect me to cower, they will be disappointed.
The throne room is vast, lined with banners of crimson and gold. Nobles fill the balconies, whispering behind jewelled fans. The air smells of perfume, wine, and something sour beneath it ... ambition, perhaps.
Roderick sits on his throne, draped in velvet, a smug smile curling his lips.
“Behold,” he announces, “Ysolde of Thaliryn ... once a queen, now a guest of the human crown.”
Guest. I’m surprised he didn’t say ‘vassal’. The word ripples through the court like a joke everyone is too polite to laugh at.
I walk forward, each step measured. The gown drags behind me like a molten river. The collar chafes my skin. My heart beats too fast, but my face remains calm.
A queen does not tremble. Roderick gestures for me to kneel.
At first I refuse and a murmur sweeps the room. Roderick’s smile tightens.
“Your majesty,” he says softly, “you will kneel.”
I meet his gaze. “I will stand.”
The silence that follows is sharp enough to cut. Roderick’s jaw clenches. For a moment, I think he will strike me. Instead, he laughs ... a brittle, forced sound.
“Guards! Assist out guest adopt the appropriate position in our presence,” he says. “Let the court see the pride of elves.”
He turns to the assembled nobles. “Pride that could not save her kingdom.”
Laughter ripples through the hall. Two guards force me to my knees, another clips a chain fastened to Roderick’s throne to my collar.
I keep my eyes forward. I will not give them the satisfaction of seeing my pain and humiliation.
A door opens to the side. Vespera enters, robes shimmering with shifting sigils. Her presence draws immediate attention ... fear, respect, curiosity. At least she diverts attention away from me.
She curtseys to Roderick. “My king. I bring news of the elven girl.”
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