Queen of Myth and Monsters (Adrian X Isolde, #2)(73)

“Guards!” I called.

“Keep your mouth shut!” a voice echoed in the dungeon. Whoever had called did not attempt to investigate. I wondered if that meant he was used to Safira making demands. I would not be surprised, but seeing her like this made me wonder if we had broken her.

“I command you, come this instant!”

“You little bitch,” the guard growled, and suddenly, there was clamoring down the hall and heavy feet thudded against the stone floor. “You’ve a lot of nerve commanding me.” He rounded the corner and halted when he saw me, though I was veiled in shadow. “Who the fuck are you?” he demanded, squinting to see me better.

“I am your queen,” I snapped. “Open this fucking door.”

“My qu-queen!” he sputtered, kneeling.

“I said open this door. I will not give the command again.”

He scurried forward and fumbled with a set of keys.

As soon as the door opened, I swept inside.

Safira lay in the middle of the uneven stone floor. She was filthy, her hair matted, and her skin so raw in places, she had developed sores.

She also smelled like piss, and it burned my nose.

I wanted to get her out of here.

“Safira, come with me.”

“Please just leave me alone,” she said, still sobbing but quieter this time. She curled herself into a ball, knees to her chest. In this moment, she reminded me of Violeta—small and young.

My guilt blossomed anew. I knelt to the floor and the stones dug into my knees.

“I am not going to hurt you,” I whispered. “I’m going to release you.”

“To die?” Her voice shook.

“To bathe,” I said.

She finally met my gaze, wary and confused. “Why?”

“I do not wish to leave you here,” I said. “I should have protested this punishment. What you did…wasn’t worth this.”

She stared at me and then something dark came over her expression, and she reared back and spit in my face.

I had my answer—she had not been broken quite yet.

“You bitch!” The guard behind me started to move forward, but I held out my hand to stop him before wiping her saliva off my face.

Then I grabbed her wrists and hauled her to her feet.

“Listen and listen well,” I said, my voice low and threatening. “I am going to give you one more chance to accept what I have to offer. If you refuse, I’ll keep you here forever. Just like this. You’ll grow old, naked and alone, and every day you will think about this night, when I offered you a world outside this cell. Now, what will it be, Safira?”

She jerked from my grip, and I released her, but her fight was soon gone. Her shoulders fell and she looked very tired.

“You are offering a bath,” she said. “What else?”

My lips curled. “Are you bargaining?”

“If I am to trade this life for another, I want to know what I’m getting.”

“Well, I would not mind another lady-in-waiting,” I said.

She would never replace Violeta, but there was something very sharp about Safira. She was knowledgeable, and she had her pulse on palace gossip, which would greatly benefit me. Her brows rose. “Why would you want me as your lady? I am your enemy.”

“A woman who wants to sleep with my husband does not make her an enemy, Safira. It makes her annoying.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, resigned.

I took a step away. “Come along.” I walked out of the cell, and Safira followed without protest.

Though late, I summoned a bath for her, and while she sat in the steaming water, scrubbing her skin, I read through one of the spell books I had brought from the library. It was one Zann had set aside for me, and it contained a set of geometric shapes that were said to channel various types of energy for different types of magic.

I traced one of them with my finger—a collection of triangles and circles.

“King Adrian has not yet turned you?” Safira asked.

My finger froze on the page.

“He has not,” I said, without looking away from my book “Though, it is not from lack of wanting.”

Although, last time, it had been me who begged Adrian to change me. I understood why he had said no in the aftermath of the lake attack. I had only recently come to accept the use of my aufhocker form, but that acceptance had yet to help me shift.

“Is it you who are not convinced?” Safira asked. “Do you not wish for immortality?”

I paused for a moment and looked up from my book. She had stopped scrubbing her skin and now hugged her knees to her chest. “I wish for invincibility,” I said. “It seems more practical.”

Though no longer guaranteed, apparently.

I set my book aside.

“Why don’t you tell me who you are?” I said.

Safira straightened. “What do you mean?”

“You are angry like I am angry,” I said. “Why? Where did you come from? How did you end up as a vassal?”

“I suppose I am like anyone who just wants to survive in this world,” she said.

“What does that mean?”

She shrugged. “My family is very poor, and I thought I could come here and make money to send back. And I did, for a while.”