A Court of Death || ACOTAR

33

Astryn was breaking. She knew it too. The wall around her mind was getting harder to maintain. There was no reprieve from the claws trying to tear that wall down.

She concluded she had three options. She could give up and just die, or she could give up and give the King what he wanted, or she could shrink the wall around her mind. In the last case, the King would still get what he wanted. She would bring the wall in far enough that the King's daemati could scratch the surface of her mind—they could control her actions. But nothing more. They couldn't take away who she was. They could control what she did, but her mind would stay relatively intact. It wasn't a sacrifice she wanted to make, but she didn't want to die and she didn't want to risk losing everything.

Despite how much it hurt, Astryn couldn't see any other option. Either give some or lose everything.

Slowly and carefully, she pulled her wall in, protected a smaller portion of her mind instead of the whole thing. The daemati waiting for the opportunity pounced, stealing control of her body, but not her consciousness. That was enough for them.

She was kept in the cell for another night. A precaution, likely, in case this was a trap. They knew as well as she did that they had only seized a portion of her mind. But that portion was enough. That was enough of a surrender for the King.

The guard who had managed her torture for the last thirty five years was the one who was sent to retrieve her from her cell. He seemed disappointed as he led her out by a chain attached to the faebane collar that would not be removed any time soon. The chains weren't going anywhere until enough time had gone by that the King was certain Astryn wasn't playing some angle of her own. As if she had any angle to play anyway.

The King was lounging on his throne, a High Fae male with daemati abilities standing to his left with a wicked smirk.

Kneel.

The daemati's order was a caress in her mind, bringing her gently to her knees in front of the King on his throne. The chain was still being held by the guard.

The King stares at her for a moment, sick satisfaction shining in his eyes.

"You've only surrendered a fraction of your mind to me," he pointed out what they all already knew as he languidly got off his throne and strolled to her, "the chains will remain until you surrender the rest. But this is acceptable for now. I don't mind chains in my bed. You won't be my wife though. That offer is dead. You will still give me an heir. I care little if the child is a bastard as long as he's powerful."

He took the chain from the guard, grinning like he had finally won a years long battle.

"You're mine," he said, tilting her chin up to force her to look at him, "someone will get you bathed and dressed in attire more suited for someone sharing a bed with a King."

He dropped the chain and it clanged loudly against the floor. He smiled even wider when Astryn didn't react to the sound.

"Three and a half decades," he mused to the guard and the daemati, "three and a half decades waiting for this little prize to give herself to me. Just the sight of her on her knees is enough to make the wait worth it."

Beg for him.

Astryn tuned out the sound of her own voice, the sound of herself begging the King to touch her, to use her however he pleased. She sank back into the portion of her mind she had sacrificed control over her body to save. And that was where she found her safety. She let herself remain blissfully unaware of how the King used her body in front of the guard and the daemati. She instead sank into the depths of her fondest memories. Memories of Cassian making her believe she could be strong. Memories of Azriel teaching her how to exist in a world she had been a stranger to. Memories of Helion visiting her cabin late at night. Memories of the blink of their existence in which Rhys had truly been a brother to her. She didn't allow herself to think of Death because she knew she may get nostalgic enough to simply go to him and never return to life.

She forced herself to open her eyes to the present eventually, to become aware of where she was but not what was done to her. She was clean now, bathed and dressed in little scraps of fabric that hardly hid anything. This way everyone could stare at the King and envy him for the prize he had. She was still in chains. And now she knelt right at the King's feet as he dined with a group of high ranking officials in his army. They talked and laughed and the King eventually demanded Astryn stand so everyone could look at her. His commands were enough without the daemati around to enforce it now. Perhaps she had been ordered to obey him.

The males ogled her and the King was visibly satisfied to see that he had something they didn't. Something they wanted but couldn't touch. Whether it was to taunt them or Astryn, he honestly wasn't sure, but he found it amusing when he ordered her to take over refilling everyone's drinks whenever they finished. The males clearly weren't too pleased with not being able to touch her, but they still took full advantage of her servitude. They finished their drinks quickly or just spilled them so they could call Astryn for refills.

The King watched it all with a smug grin. She had not surrendered everything, but he had enough control that he felt like he won this round.

He wasn't sure how much Rhysand cared about Astryn, but he hoped she would be a useful bargaining chip. Not that he would ever actually give her up, but she was still useful to try to leverage over Rhys. If he valued her more than his Court, at least. The threat of killing her meant nothing since she would come back every time anyway, but he could threaten worse things than death.

The King would readily admit that he hoped Rhysand didn't surrender if only so he could make good on every creative threat he could come up with towards Astryn. Thirty five years of rejection wounded his pride. He wanted retribution.