Chapter 64: Fifty-Eight

I refused to look at my left arm as I scrubbed the floors of the hallway.

Refused to look at the ink that marred my skin and the eye in the middle of my palm that I couldn't help but wonder if Rhysand could see me from. If he was I hoped he got the message as I scrubbed the floor with it.

But I caved in—looking at the ink in the light I realized it wasn't just black. It was a blue so dark it looked black.

I dunked the brush I'd been given into the newly clean water I'd been scrubbing these floors with. It was nearly impossible to clean with all the dirt and grime that coated the brush every time I put it in the water.

When the guards had brought me to the white hallway they'd only said, "Have it done by supper or we'll roast you over a fire." blah. blah. blah. Just the usual. The guards that escorted me down into the pits had threatened the same and yet here I was.

A woman had visited me during my time here, her hair was a brown deep enough to look almost red. The water I had been using had dirtied over time, the woman had done me a kindness in turning it fresh again. She had revealed she was Lucien's mother, that she was doing it only because I had saved her son from Rhysand. Though she'd threatened to kill me straight after, she was a confusing woman. I wondered if I'd ever cross paths with her again.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The guards had returned the next day with eerie smiles on their faces—showing off their yellow teeth. They'd yanked me from my cell and shoved me into a large, dark bedroom. They pointed to the soot-stained fireplace, "servant spilled lentils int eh ashes," one of the guards tossed me a wooden bucket as the other spoke, "clean it up before the occupant returns, or he'll peel your skin off in strips."

"How creative," I mocked. They could at least come up with something original, I mean who had that kind of time these days? Do they know how long it takes to do that? How much effort do you have to put in? It takes hours.

They left me alone after that.

This was ridiculous. No one accidentally spills lentils in the trash. If the person who lived here was actually as dangerous as they said, why would someone even risk bringing lentils in here?

I glanced around the bedroom, there were no windows or exits save for the one i'd just entered through. The bed was enormous, made neatly with its sheets of black silk. The room was practically barren besides a few pieces of furniture. There was nothing defining about the room. Nothing.

I knelt at the fireplace. Looking at the multitude of lentils lost in the ashes. I internally groaned, I hated this.

I had keen senses, I could do it. It couldn't be that hard.

I could do it.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I couldn't do it.

I had gone through the pile of ashes sixteen times. Sixteen times. And yet there were always more. I was so frustrated I thought I might burst from my skin. If the lentils were alive I would have killed them, I hated lentils. I'd never be able to look at them again without a burst of anger bubbling up from inside me.

That's how frustrated I was.

I wished I could scream as I looked at my soot-stained hands. I went to search again for more lentils but the lock on the door clicked.

I whipped my head around, seeing the door begin to open, I swiftly got to my feet, grabbing the fire poker and getting into a stance like I was holding a sword.

Darkness entered the room, the candles flickered as a breeze swept through.

"As wonderful as it is to see you, Danika, darling," Rhysand said, sprawled across the bed, his head propped up by a hand, "do I want to know why you're digging through my fireplace?"

I rolled my eyes, "Oh, it's you," I sighed, "They said the person who lived here would rip off my skin if I didn't clean out the lentils, and yet here you are, sitting on the bed like an adorable little dog."

"Did they now." A feline smile even as he completely missed the point of my entire statement.

"Was this your idea?" I demanded as I pointed the poker in the direction of the fireplace.

"Oh, no," he drawled, "no one's learned of our little bargain yet—and you've managed to keep quiet. Shame rising you a bit hard?"

I rolled my eyes, pointing the poker to the fireplace again, "Is this to your satisfaction?" I raised my eyebrows.

"Why were there lentils in my fireplace to begin with?"

"One of your mistresses' household chores." Amarantha had likely had someone dump them into the ash just to make my life harder.

"Hm," he picked a piece of lint off his clothes, "Apparently she or her cronies think I'll find some sport with you."

"Like hell," I scoffed before my curiosity took over, "You said you bet on me on our first task, why?" I stalked closer to the High Lord as my mind raced with thoughts, "And you lied to Amarantha about Clare and Maya when you knew very well what we looked like." I cocked my head as Rhysands eyes narrowed a fraction, "Things aren't adding up, High Lord. I want an explanation." I spat the title like a curse.

Rhysand sat up in a fluid movement, "Amarantha plays her games," He shrugged, "And I play mine. It gets rather boring down here, day after day."

"She let you out for Calanmai and you somehow put that head in the garden." I countered, I was getting my answers whether he knew he was giving them to me or not.

"She asked me to put that head in the garden. And as for Fire Night..." he looked me up and down, "I had my reasons to be out then. Do not think, Danika, that it did not cost me." his smile didn't meet his eyes, and I felt a pang of sympathy for Rhysand deep inside me. "Are you going to put down that poker, or can I expect you to start swinging soon."

I smiled, "The second option sounds like more fun."

"A valiant effort, but useless," he said and I sighed in response. I still had my daggers; one in my boot and the other at my side but he didn't need to know that.

I turned my back on Rhysand—definitely a mistake, but oh well. I walked to the fireplace, putting the poker back in its original spot before I faced him again with a stone expression. "Tell me," I began, "Were you born with more power or does she allow you it?" I questioned as I leaned against one of the far walls of the room.

He lifted a brow, "She took my powers. This..." A caress of dark talons against the careful walls of my mind. A pressure built in my mind, but I only cocked my head at him. The pressure vanished after a moment, "This is just the remnant. The scraps I get to play with. The High Lord of Spring has brute strength and shapeshifting; my arsenal is a far deadly assortment." I should have felt fear at that. Should have felt some sort of wariness, and yet when I scoured my mind all I felt was curiosity.

"You say that as though you can't shape-shift, but I know for a fact all High Lords hold that particular power."

He held that same feline smirk as always, "All High Lords can shapeshift, yes. Each of us has a beast roaming under our skin, roaring to get out. While Tamlin prefers fur, I find wings and talons to be more entertaining."

"And can you shift now? Or is that power too large for the scraps you possess now?" I taunted.

"So many questions for a little human."

But the darkness that seemed to permanently surround him seemed to twist and writhe into shapes as he stood up straight. Not even a second later, it was done.

"Not a full shift, you see," he clicked his razor-sharp talons that replaced his fingernails together, "I don't particularly like yielding wholly to my baser side."

I took him in again, this time noticing the dark wings that occupied his back. My lips slowly tilted upwards into a small smile, "Illyrian wings." I whispered. I'd only ever seen them in drawings in the Flame's library.

When Flynn had first told me the story of wyverns—that they were hidden somewhere waiting to be saved. I'd begun research, eventually finding the Illyrian warbands who occupied the mountains of the Night Court. A species of lesser faeries that possessed wings and derived from a species similar to wyverns only a whole lot more deadly.

It made me miss the wyverns. I wished I'd visited them when I came back to Prythian, if I made it out of there alive I'd visit them again.

Rhysands brows furrowed as his face looked confused as if he expected me to run and scream. He looked slightly bewildered—a fact I took great satisfaction in. I took it as an opportunity to look closer at his wings. He had tucked them neatly behind his back. The useless part of me stirred again at the sight.

Rhysand rolled his neck, and it all vanished in a flash—the wings, the talons. "No attempts at flattery?"

"You have a high enough opinion of yourself already. I fear if I were to give another compliment your ego might grow so big it explodes."

He let out a low laugh that slid along my bones, warming my blood. "I can't decide whether I should consider you admirable or very stupid for being so bold with a high lord."

I hummed as I stepped towards the fireplace already spotting more lentils than I had remembered, "I'd prefer if you not consider me anything." I said quietly but it didn't lack strength.

He frowned at me, snapping his fingers. And all the soot and dirt and ash vanished on my body. I really wished I had access to that neat little trick. "There. A gift—for having the balls to insult a High Lord."

I gave him a flat stare—though I was secretly thankful to not have to be covered in soot the next few days.

Rhysand pointed to the fireplace, and I noticed that all the lentils that had littered the ash were gone and the wooden bucket had been filled. I rolled my eyes at him but picked up the bucket.

The door opened, revealing the guards who had brought me here.

Rhysand waved a hand, "She accomplished her task. Take her back."

The guards made a move to grab for me but Rhysand bared his teeth in a smile that was anything but friendly. The guards halted. "No more household chores, no more tasks, no more fights," he said, his voice an erotic caress. I watched as their eyes dulled and their mouths dropped. "Tell the others, too. Stay out of her cell, and don't touch her. If you do, you're to take your own daggers and gut yourselves. Understood?"

The guards nodded in their dull state.

I sighed. I was absolutely sick of males swooping into my lives and doing whatever they want under the belief that I couldn't handle myself.

I could. I'd killed thousands more intimidating and skilled than those guards. I could kill them with a single blow if I wanted and yet I let them do what they wanted to me to give them the false impression that they held the power. Of course, Rhysand just as to ruin my fun.

Rhysand smiled at me, "You're welcome." He purred. I glared at him before I walked back to my cell to sit in the dark for only Cauldron knows how long.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A/N: Hello my lovelies, this chapter was a bit hard to write for absolutely no reason at all. hope you all liked it anyway.

also, i think i'm going to write a Rowan Whitethorn fanfic btw. lmk if that's some tbh info i guys would want😏