The Queen of Ash and Flame

Chapter Twenty One

Iron spikes stabbed into me, each touching bone at their tips. I bit the inside of my cheek, stopping myself from screaming. The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth.

I was hung up by two chains, both made out of pure iron. Burning and bruising my wrists. I was on my knees, arms up in the air.

I kept my head high, they are not going to break me.

I had been dragged out of my cell a couple minutes ago, iron shackles attached around my arms, dulling my powers.

Once again I tried to summon them but it was useless, it was like I was clawing at a stone wall. No way in.

The iron had corked the control I had on my powers, but I was still raging with fury.

I heard the other guards leave, their leather boots slapping against the hard cold floor.

I was still dressed in my white blood stained blouse and leather pants. Fresh blood, my blood, ran down the white cloth on my back.

I heard a different pair of boots come towards me, then came around and sat in a chair, right in front of me.

I looked up, and the devil who had caught me sat there, stone cold.

"Hello again," he mused.

I spat a mouthful of blood at him, my blood splattering his face and shirt.

He wiped his cheek, and looked back at me. A playful frown on his face, "Now that wasn't nice."

"I'm not telling you shit," I spat out.

"Oh I think you're going to tell me everything I need to know," he got up and walked towards me. I titled my head up to keep my eyes on him, but even with that slight strain in my neck a wave of pain went through me. The iron daggers shifted inside me.

"First question," he drawled. "Who are you working for?"

I stayed quiet, a second later a first cracked into my jaw. My teeth rattled in their places. My head was thrown to the side, I hacked up a wad of blood and spit it on the ground.

"You punch like a baby," I said, staring up at him

Rage flickered across his stone mask.

"Answer me darling," he hissed at me.

"No," I said simply. With that another punch connected with my cheek, harder than the last one. We kept this up for what felt like forever. Him asking me questions, me ignoring him or spitting insults at him. And then I received another hit to the face.

My jaw felt nonexistent, like he had punched it clean off.

He slumped down in his chair, heaving out a breath.

"Don't have any more questions?" I asked, my speech muffled because of the swelling of my face.

"You're obviously not going to answer me," he said. "So I'll have to get other people to try other methods."

I raised an eyebrow in confusion, "Why get someone else to do it?" I asked. "Blood just not your thing?" I chuckled.

He glared at me, "I'm fine with blood, it's seeing you like... like this," he gestures at me.

I titled my head, what was happening?

"It's seeing you like this, all tied up and I can't free you without getting you hurt or killed." He paused, looking down at his hands, "I hate hurting you, every punch is like stabbing a knife into the universe's back. It fucking hurts." His voice broke on the last word.