Ileus: The Dark Prince

Anastasia's eyes went to the statue of the Fae king as she rode with Ileus. Did she see his sword rising? Perhaps she was hallucinating. Weakness overcame her. She closed her eyes shut and hoped that the exit was sealed once they all crossed. Woodsy and misty smell encompassed her. Thick mist surrounded her.

Ileus had covered her with a cloak and secured her tightly against himself. Just before Anastasia slipped into darkness, she heard a loud rumble, as if the walls of the cave were trembling or coming down.

"The exit!" someone shouted.

She tried to look up, but couldn't... darkness surrounded her. After that she couldn't hear a word, could only feel movement of heavy breathing of Ileus. Obsidian was welcoming.

The shadows spread their smoky arms and wrapped her. She wanted to break free. The shackles returned.

There were screams. Was that the nanny or was that her? She had held Anastasia close to her. Her hands were sliding down her back, her fingers covered in blood.

Blistering pain cruised through her shoulders, shocking her, stunning her. Anastasia's body convulsed.

"Take her to the healer!" The nanny shouted as she held her in her arms after her cousin sliced her wing's bone. There was a lot of blood on her wings.

A reverberating slap from Aed Ruad sent the nanny skidding on the floor. The woman had hit the armoire on the left wall. She screamed again and tried to get up. He sent a strong beam of white light that hit her right in the center of the chest. The nanny had shrieked with eyes going wide before she collapsed.

Anastasia was on the floor, looking at the sack that was stirring a little. She stretched her hand towards it.

Aed Ruad had come to sit right in front of her. She looked up and pleaded, "That girl— that girl needs help." Her voice was ragged.

He pinched her chin and tipped it up. "Which girl, Anastasia? Have you started imagining things?" The slit of his irises had become yellow for a fraction of a second. Her eyes traveled to another figure who had walked besides him. Hands grabbed her and they twisted her shoulders.

"Maple, help her…" she managed to whisper.

Maple lifted her leg and kicked in her abdomen so hard that the ten-year-old Anastasia shrieked.

She jerked awake, as yet another scream blazed her heart, burnt the back of her throat. She got up, sweating and gasping for air. She opened her eyes hoping to understand where she was, but it was so dark, it was so still and so cold. Hands had grabbed her face and they had clasped her against something—something hard and warm.

She felt the soft movement of someone caressing her hair. "Shh Anastasia…" a soft honey-like voice came from the darkness. She grabbed those hands and clambered back. "We are out of the tunnel."

Which tunnel? Her dreams were like a tunnel, or were they reality?

He was holding her tightly against his body. "You are fine, Ana," he said as he rocked her in his lap.

She hid her head in his chest. It was so safe that she didn't want to come out. "He has— he has sliced my wing. It p— pains," she stuttered. Why did it feel so right to be with him and to tell him everything? Waking up alone after those dreams was a terrifying experience. Nyles had helped her. She used to give her medicines to ease. No. She used to poison her. She never comforted her, never stroked her, never…

She heard him gulping. He rested his chin over her head. "They can't harm you anymore."

Her body shook. "I don't want the medicine."

"She is gone. Relax Anastasia."

And that is what Anastasia did. She relaxed. She allowed herself to relax in his warm embrace. Something she hadn't done in years. Not after her parents were captured. As she grew up Iskra had taught her to be tough, whereas Nyles had always guided her to depend on her. Now she realized that Iskra was teaching her to be strong and Nyles… she was acting on Maple's behalf. The memory of betrayal tightened her chest again. "Iskra…" his name left her lips. She had so much respect for that man. How could Ráild be his son? And what he said to her during the attack—it was abominable. It was as if he was a shame to his father. But for Ráild, his father was a shame to their family.

She slipped into darkness again, her body feeling limp in the warm embrace of the man with misty scent. This time she didn't have the nightmares.

Anastasia woke up after what seemed like an eternity. She was still feeling weak. She felt like turning her body around but found herself in someone's tight grasp, against a rock hard chest that was heaving slowly, against the normal rhythm of heartbeats. His hands were wrapped around her body and his leg was over hers. Where were they?

She tipped her head up and her lips brushed his chin.

He loosened his grip around her but didn't move away. Lifting his head, he asked with concern and anxiety in his voice, "How are you feeling?"

She nodded against his chest. "Better."

He removed his leg from her, pulled away a little to see her. He felt her forehead and neck. "Are you feeling weak?"

She didn't know how to answer that question, so she didn't. She turned on her back and scanned the surroundings. It smelled musty and damp. It was so dark that she didn't know where they were. Usually whenever they rested, there used to be a faint glow of fire but tonight it was just dark. "Where are we?" she asked hoarsely not understanding as to why her voice was so bad. Was it because she had screamed while dreaming? Those dreams plagued her…

"In a safe place," he replied as he continued to check her. "In a cave that Guarhal had found."

"The tunnel?"