Page 92 of Escape from the Green

A shackle.

Iron.

That was why it was burning even though it was technically cold. Even through the layer of my pants, the thick metal was searing into my flesh,given enough time, I was sure it could burn right through the skin, muscle, right down to the bone.

This was what Drake felt like all the time.

I had to swallow back the bile that rose up my throat at the idea of my fate, the idea that there was no way to get it off unless I wanted more pain on my hands and fingers.

"Staying still helps," A low, scratchy voice called from my side, making my spine run cold even as my head jerked around, searching in the dark for the source of the voice.

When my vision adjusted, I found a woman. Old. Older than the elders in the council, which was saying something. But her long gray hair was stringy, thinning, framing a face that was curling into itself with advanced years, making the lids fall so heavily over her eyes that it was impossible to make out the shade even if there were enough light to do so.

"If you move, it just bites into fresher parts, starting the process all over again," she went on, waving a hand to her leg where an identical chain was attached to an ankle that looked brittle enough to snap, the flesh beneath raw and filthy. "Who are you?" she asked, head tipping to the side, eyeing me up. "You must be someone important to be here with me instead of in the cells like all the other prisoners."

"I'm not important," I insisted, seeing as I wasn't entirely sure who had taken me, why, or what would possess a fae to put irons on another fae.

"Sure you are, dearie. They put you here so they can come and talk to you without anyone overhearing."

"Why are you here then?" I asked, brows drawing low.

"Because I gave life to the monster who keeps me here," she said, shrugging as though that was a normal thing to do - lock up your mother, make her suffer with burning flesh.

Then again, I could see some mothers deserving of such a fate.

"Who is the monster?"

To that, she snorted, shaking her thin neck, making me worry she might break it with the way her head lobbed around. "Why the Unseelie King, of course."

"Cass." His name hissed out of me, rekindling the fire of fear within me, making me jerk against the chain, pain be damned, my hands clawing, looking for any small space I could use to pry it open.

"Yes, Cass. Calm down, dearie. They solder them on. There is no getting them off unless they cut them. And, seeing as you're here, I don't think they have the intention of doing so. Who are you to that beast? What does he want from you? You're young to be worth the trouble of keeping you."

"Cass' mother was Queen herself. You're not Cass' mother," I decided, having seen depictions of her, murals drawn of her stunning beauty. And, sure, maybe several hundreds of years before, this woman might have been lovely as well, but her forehead was too big, her chin too pointed.

"The Bastard King doesn't like anyone knowing he was a bastard," she told me,breaking off onto a dry cough. "The Unseelie Queen never gave birth to a live babe. The King found his pleasures elsewhere. Like his slave quarters. Where I so unluckily lived my life, forever at the prey of the hands of the guards and dinner guests. And, when I caught his eye, the King himself. When he found out I was with his child, he let me have it. Then locked me down here."

"And Cass never freed you?"

"Cass thinks very highly of himself. He wants the world to think he was the legitimate offspring of the most beautiful, powerful royal family in generations. Not the bastard of some slave whore with not an ounce of power to her name, no affinity to speak of unless having a ripe womb counted."

My saliva tasted bitter, acrid in my mouth, making it hard to swallow back. "But... why keep you?" I asked, shaking my head.

"Oh, he likes to come down here and hurl insults, let me know how much better he is than me. Cass is not right. I wonder if he ever had been. But he is certainly more crazed than usual these days. Which brings us back to you, girlie. How am I supposed to help you if I don't know what you've done?"

"Done," I snorted, shaking my head. "Other than have the misfortune of being born into a convenient family with important ties and an opportunistic matriarch? Nothing. I have done nothing but try to live my life."

"Who are you connected to?"

"My brother is the partner of the Light Court's long-lost Princess."

"The one who can burn things with her hands?"

"Yes. Cass' daughter."

A low sigh escaped the woman whose name I hadn't gotten. "So, I have a granddaughter out there then. What is she like?"

"Nothing like her father. I guess she takes after her mother instead."