The Crystal Mines

1 Nik

There are a few things that cross your mind when you have nothing left. I sat on the floor of the cell with my eyes closed. I wasn't sleeping despite my hopes. Sleeping is one of those things you think about. A luxury reserved for those that deserved it. The constant sound of dripping was an unplanned added torture to the dank prison cells. I had long since gotten used to the smell of human excrements and mildew. Iron however, had its own special smell that stuck in my nose like a fly trapped in tree sap. The pain of the iron dust they periodically pumped in the air was a twin to that of the thick cuffs eating at my wrists.

My Fae blood, now almost fully matured, ensured I healed faster than I ever had. The shackles would eat my flesh faster than rust and my body would heal. Over and over. Some days, when they weakened us with extra mining hours, I didn't heal until the cuffs had made it past muscle to the bone. Pain was a constant friend and therefore, always on my mind. Even as my thoughts lingered on the pain and the incessant dripping, the rock wall behind me bit into my back and head.

I heard Callion shift on the single cot in our cell. Another sound so familiar that I didn't flinch or react. I could tell by the sureness of his movements that he was awake and pretending to sleep like I was. We hadn't spoken more than a few sentences to each other since I had arrived, and he revealed who he was. The prince of Salvare was brooding and quiet. Though his eyes missed nothing, behind them, I could always see his thoughts turning. He politely offered the cot to me the night that... I shifted and pulled my legs up and laid my head on my knees, refusing to allow my thoughts to spiral. Callion paused in his shifting on the bed and could feel his eyes on me. I took a shallow breath and ignored him.

Hidden in the safety of my arms, I blinked my eyes open to see my golden lion tattoo that I had named Achar, staring at me with concern. I knew that Achar was an extension of Callion. I had pieced it all together the months spent in the mines. He had made a bargain with me, and the tattoo was a reflection of that. I had promised I would see him again, and according to Ameer, the lion should have disappeared once the promise was fulfilled. Achar had become a way to communicate to Callion without speaking and looking at his brooding face. The prince was all bite and no bark. He gave no warning as to when he would lash out. His face always remained hardened and expressionless. That is, until he got angry. Which was a lot if the broken cells around us were any testament.

It amazed me how much fight was still left in him. If I did the math correctly, based on the rumors of when he began getting sick, he had been in the mines for at least a year. Though I expect it had been longer, Callion revealed nothing to me. The man on the cot was nothing like the one I had met at the winter ball. This version of him was closed off, stoic, and angry. I had become a shell of the person I was. When we didn't mine the amount required for the day, the whippings would come. I would take them with the same vehemence I took them from Nerin, the man I thought was my father. The first time I got a whipping, Callion showed emotion for the first time.

It was about two weeks after I had arrived. The guards were forced to let my ribs heal before they put me to work. The first time I mined, I missed the required weight of thirty pounds of quartz to be collected by a large margin. The punishment was whipping by a leather cord. When I knelt in front of the prisoners and took it without flinching, Callion's eyes went wide. I couldn't tell if he was looking at me in horror or shock. Either way, when we got back to our cell, I fought back a panic attack, denying the inevitable road I was beginning to walk back down.

A tear fell down my cheek and landed on my arm, leaving a wet track of dirt in its wake like a slug leaving a trail of slime. I watched it drip off my arm and fall to the white rock floor between my knees and blinked. Achar looked at me sadly and I ignored him. I sucked down air, fighting off the panic. Callion shifted on the cot again, angry. What he was angry at was anyone's guess. The moonlight on the floor between my legs, told me it was well past the middle of the night. Tomorrow was going to be a hard day if I didn't try to get at least a couple hours of sleep. But I was waiting for Ameer.