The Woods

Chapter Forty-Five

I didn't know when or how I fell asleep, but I found myself jolting awake at the sound of footsteps. Anwir approached me, seeming somewhat surprised that I was awake.

"You have been asleep for a very long time," he said, pulling out a knife. I paled, attempting to recoil, only to remember that I couldn't do that while hanging from the ceiling. "Not to worry, I don't need to hurt you yet."

That didn't stop me from stiffening as he approached, but I was somewhat relieved when all he did was take a lock of hair. To send to Cain or for some spell; I didn't care.

"How long has it been?"

"Three days." So long? I had been asleep for that long? I watched as Anwir tied the lock of hair with a plain ribbon. After a moment, it disappeared. I could only assume it was sent to Cain to taunt him. "The sleeping spell worked a bit too well, it seems. But at least you're not bored, Fida darling." I bristled at the name, cursing at the chains for stopping me from punching him.

"And what news from the Fae?" I asked quietly, my stomach churning. They likely knew that I was being held captive by Anwir, but did they know that he murdered Maalik? Had they made progress in trying to get me back?

"Oh, they have been demanding you back," he chuckled. "Cain was most upset that I refused to meet with him."

It confused me as I thought about the situation. Sure, Anwir wanted Cain to suffer. But he hadn't hurt me. What was he going to do after declaring me dead? For a while, Cain would be upset, but he would move past my death eventually – it was how I felt after Father passed away. It suggested that Anwir was not telling me everything.

"Do you intend to take the throne?" I asked. His expression told me I had guessed correctly. It was the most logical option – if Cain was attacked while vulnerable, he would be easier to defeat. "You do realise that Lord Cawther will be able to take it back from you."

Anwir huffed out a laugh. "Oh, I will take my time weakening all of the Fae. Once I kill Cain, I will stay here so no one is able to challenge me. And when everyone is weakened, I will kill them." His words send a bolt of rage through my gut, and I had the urge to freeze him then and there – something I should've thought of earlier. But as I reached for mg magic . . . it was gone. "Your chains contain the sap of the Great Oak. You cannot use magic."

Just my luck. I hissed at him, adrenaline pumping through my veins. I wanted to hurt him; needed to. He chuckled, turning to walk away.

In one fluid movement, I pulled myself higher and wrapped my legs around his neck; my heels digging into his throat. He growled, trying to pry my legs off, but I lifted myself higher, so he was hanging a few inches off the ground. I couldn't hold it for long, but a glance at his face showed me it was purple.

But I let out a yelp and dropped him as my leg suddenly screamed in pain. He gasped for breath, stumbling back from me. In his hand was the knife, blood dripping from its tip. Once he had caught his breath and his face was a little less purple, he looked up and snarled.

"I truly did want to wait before doing this," he said, his voice calm. Too calm.

Slowly, he approached me.

***

Minutes, hours, or perhaps days later, I hung from my chain, staring down at the pool of blood beneath me. I was too tired to lift me head, so I just stared down at the blood, listening to the drip, drip, drip as drops joined the puddle.

Anwir had given me a warning when he left me: if I ever tried to kill him, he would make me suffer – just as he did over the past few hours. My legs, arms, stomach and face were covered in slashes that oozed so much blood, I wasn't sure how I was alive. Perhaps it was the fast healing of the Fae that closed the worst of the wounds.

I thought back to the alcohol I used to treat Drake, hoping – praying – that Anwir did not have any of that in the tower. It made Drake howl in agony; I did not want to think what it would feel like.

Perhaps it was the loss of blood that made my head feel like it was stuffed with cotton. I found myself feeling drowsy, and being tugged into sleep.

I dreamed of green eyes staring at me. The tickle of someone's blonde hair as I was pulled into an embrace. I almost collapsed into sobs when I realised who it was that held me. But he was not real. No, he was part of my dream.

"I am coming," he murmured. I shook my head, unable to speak. "Please do not worry."

I jolted awake, as if the line holding me in the dream had been snapped. But . . . perhaps it was not a dream. Was it a message? Was Cain coming for me?

At the sound of footsteps, I looked up to see Anwir descending the stairs. He was grinning; the gesture more unsettling than happy.

"Good news, Fida darling," he chirped, his grin widening as he saw my scowl. "Cain has accepted my formal invitation to speak with me. He will be here in three days."

My heart dropped. So, the dream was a message, then. And did Cain know it was a trap? Why would he risk so much when leaving me was the easiest option?

I glanced up at Anwir, who was chatting cheerily. I just hoped Cain knew what he was doing.