Dance of Fate

Chapter One

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PART ONE

THE FALLEN STAR

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FIVE YEARS LATER

-under the mountain-

I've been locked up for 1,128 days.

I think this might be even worst than the first time. When I was locked in the Prison, no one ever bothered me. I didn't see anyone aside from the guards who occasionally fed me, and even they couldn't really be counted as living beings.

But here, in a small cell Under the Mountain, the guards are free to do with me whatever they like.

It's been over five years since Amarantha tricked all of Prythian, and locked the majority of us in her court Under the Mountain. Among the Fae and Faeries who got manipulated into being down here, is Rhysand and most of the Night Court, excluding all of Velaris and Rhys's inner circle. Rhysand has managed to keep them secret. For now, at least.

Rhys used to visit me whenever he could, offering to heal me and giving me proper meals that weren't half faebane, threatening the guards not to harm me. But of course, Amarantha forbade him from doing so months ago. When Rhys disobeyed and went anyway, she punished me as a way of punishing him.

That was likely the only reason she let me live at all. As a punishment, should Rhysand ever step out of line.

I can't say I don't deserve to be down here. I curse myself every single day for being stupid enough to be tricked like this. And I curse myself even more for having lost my temper and doing what I did to get myself locked in here.

Each day I awake with less fight in me. I hardly ever bother to fight back when the guards use me as a punching bag, hardly talk back when they insult me. I sometimes forget why I even bother to keep going.

The sole thing that has kept me going is the thought of my family, still happy and free in Velaris.

Of Mor, still able to wear her extravagant clothes and walk through the city. Amren, likely barking orders at everyone all the time now that Rhysand wasn't there. Cassian, who I hoped hadn't lost his humorous personality after all of this. And Azriel.

In the moments I've wanted to give up, the thought of Azriel has made me want to keep fighting. I wasn't entirely sure why; though I'd never been sure of anything when it came to the shadowsinger.

The dreams I had of him, of the moments we shared in Velaris half a decade ago, were the only good ones I ever had.

"Get up." A voice growled at me. I pried my eyes open, finding my eyelids to feel like weights. An unfamiliar looking faerie swung open the door to my cell. He wasn't one of my usual guards though. No, I recognized him to be one of Amarantha's higher ranking guards. He had leathery wings and clawed feet, and eyes so dark and cruel I couldn't look into them without shuddering. I then knew it could be no one but the Attor.

The Attor grabbed my arm and yanked me up, its long sharp claws digging into my skin. I bit down on my tongue to stop from crying out at the pain that coursed through my entire body, especially my thigh, where I had acquired a rather large wound only two days ago. Or at least I think it was two days ago.

I didn't fight back as another faerie approached me with a set of hand cuffs. Judging by the fact that he wore gloves, they were likely made of ash.

Definitely ash, I thought as he put them on me, the familiar stinging seeping into my skin.

The faeries both grabbed me by an arm, shoving me forward. I stumbled, my legs not used to carrying my weight, my body too weak to support it.

"Where are you taking me?" I hissed, my voice barely above a whisper. One of the guards gave me an ugly, wide smile. "She has requested to see you."

So she was finally going to kill me. Perhaps Rhysand had done something terrible, or something amazing really, and she was going to execute me as punishment. I just hoped I was punishment enough, and that she didn't need to extend his punishment to torturing him.

Rhys had tried to play it off as if he didn't give a damn about me, so that Amarantha wouldn't use me as to hurt him. But when she threatened to kill me since I was of no use, Rhysand had failed to continue his act, much to Amarantha's satisfaction.

The two faeries dragged me all the way to the throne room, my head spinning violently from exhaustion and pain. The ground was unforgivingly cold when the threw me on it, my body crashing against the marble. I forced myself up so that I was on my hands and knees, stars dancing in my vision

Amarantha looked as cruel as ever, sitting upon her obsidian colored throne, wearing her usual smirk that made me want to throw her against the wall. Her hair seemed redder then the last time I'd seen it, and her skin seemed paler, though I might have just been hallucinating. Her eyes, though, were just as malicious as they appeared in my nightmares.

I forced myself to meet her gaze, resisting the urge to look at Rhysand, who was standing on Amarantha's right side, and no doubt staring at me. I kept my chin up as I stared down the female, forcing down the pain in my thigh and the spinning in my head.

"Asteria. You look... awful." Amarantha said, her voice wearing a mocking tone. I clenched my fists, so hard I was sure my nails would break my skin. It was all I could do to stop myself from saying something back that would surely get me killed. Though I was likely to be killed anyway.

"You're probably wondering why I have summoned you." The female purred, touching a finger to her blood red hair, which she wore loose. I didn't say anything, still keeping my eyes on her. My thigh was throbbing even more.

"I would like to make you an offer." She said. An offer? What the hell was she going to offer me? I held my breath as I considered the possibilities, each thought worse than the one before. An offer could mean nothing good. I suddenly wished I was back in my cell.

"I would like to make you my personal auxiliary." The whole room seemed to freeze. My body did, too. Amarantha smiled even wider, clearly pleased at my shock. I let my eyes flash to Rhysand, who looked just as surprised as I felt. It seemed even he did not know of this offer.

"Auxiliary? Why me?" I asked, my voice coming out weaker than I would have hoped. Still, I did not let any of that weakness or pain or fear I felt show on my face.

"Well, I figured your abilities could be very useful to me. You could use your talents to help me complete a few tasks." Everyone in the room knew that by abilities and talents she meant my power. And everyone knew that her tasks were torturing and killing whoever crossed her.

I looked at Rhys again. His face revealed nothing, but I could see the panic and pleading in his eyes. I knew he didn't want me to end up like him. But he and I both knew that being Amarantha's whore, or Amarantha's auxiliary was better than being locked in a cell, kept on the verge of death at all times.

I looked back at Amarantha, who was smiling expectantly. "Of course you can go back to the dungeons, if that is what you'd prefer. The choice is yours, my dear."

I knew I should say no. I knew it was selfish to say yes, to kill others to earn my own freedom. Well, as close as freedom as I would ever get. But I wasn't sure I could do it anymore. I wasn't sure I could survive being locked away in the darkness for any longer.

I inhaled a long, shaky breath, praying to the Mother that she would forgive me, as I slowly nodded my head.