The Crown and the Throne

Chapter Thirteen

I tuck myself deeper inside the cell just as the prison begins to shake and rumble. I drop the torch and hug the iron bars, jumping back when they burn my hands. I press myself against the wall. Some of those fighting stop, trying to hold their balance and dodge the bits of stone falling from above them. Three are on the ground wrestling with each other, swords lost somewhere on the floor. Flames flash past one of their faces.

The light of the fallen torch is dimming, the dust and broken stone from above slowly putting it out. The cell is quickly becoming a black hole.

If I weren't so afraid right now, I would try to keep it alive from afar. But the sight of a man stepping into the cell doorway makes me freeze.

The fae is large and burly. The dying flame makes the silver blood dripping from his lip and rolling down his shoulder shimmer. I can see frost growing over his skin and clothes, slow, almost mesmerizing.

Shakily I pull my sword from my hip, almost dropping it. I hold it in front of me. I can feel a ball of tears building in my throat and I try to swallow it. It is no use, and tears are forming in my eyes.

I see the fae's lips move and his eyes widen, as though he is in shock. But the rumble of the prison and the last of the fighting is too loud to hear him.

The man's face becomes angry and he charges at me. I close my eyes and move the tip of the sword towards him, holding the hilt tight.

My arms are jolted back when he runs into the blade, the end of the handle knocking into my chest. I gasp from the sudden pain, eyes opening wide. The flame of the torch has finally sputtered out and left the prison in darkness. I almost think of it as a blessing, knowing that now I cannot see the impaled fae in front of me.

Impaled.

I shriek and let go of my sword. I can feel tears rolling down my face now, fast, unstoppable.

My hands grope the rocky wall as I make my way around where I assume the fae's body fell.

The prison stops shaking slowly, the noise dying with it. Now I can hear yelling, voices, my name, what happened? What made the walls shake so ferociously?

A light appears in the hall, illuminating everyone's faces in an eerie orange glow.

Sebastian's face stands out, silver blood falling from a gash on his cheek. His uniform is covered in dust and dirt, small bits of stone littering his usually clean hair. There are tears in his uniform, too.

I realize that he must have been a part of the scuffle on the floor at some point. I look down and see the Stonemen's bodies lying on the floor, unconscious or dead I do not know. I step around the bars of the cell, ignoring the dead body inside.

"Son of a banshee," Sebastian starts, spitting. "The hell was that?"

He crouches beside a fallen guardsmen and holds his hand under their nose, shaking his head a moment later.

"Same," I hear someone say. I see a scrawny guardsmen rise from beside another fallen body.

Sebastian stands, fists clenched, eyes rolling over the floor. Once he seems satisfied, he nods and lifts his sword from the ground. A spiral of spiky ice is near it on the floor, beginning to melt away.

He comes to me, grabbing my arms and moving my head, inspecting me. "Are you hurt? Are you okay?" He steps behind me. I feel tired, but nothing is in pain.

"I'm fine," I whisper.

When it seems as though I haven't sustained any injury, Sebastian peers inside the cell. He is silent for a long minute, staring.