The Hidden Crystal

Chapter 28

It was only the frantic prodding of the fairies that roused Iris the next morning. She could barely move, but they pulled her into a sitting position, the motion making her moan as a wave of burning pain shot through her. They were still tugging on her, several of them gathering behind her back to push, and they half-carried her out of bed to the waiting bath. She was too weak to protest as they undressed her and helped her into the tub, barely hanging onto consciousness as they washed her hair and soaped her body, and then they were pulling her out, toweling her dry, dressing her like a doll. They finished just as the latch clicked in the door, with no knock as a warning before the door flew open.

"Good morning, Iris," Micah said pleasantly, casting her an appraising glance as he walked across the room to the sofa. "Bring her here," he commanded, patting the cushion beside him. "I'll have my breakfast with her today."

The fairies escorted Iris to the sofa, setting her gently next to the monster who had them all dancing to his tune before zipping out of the room. Iris fell back against the cushions, unable to hold herself upright.

"Is this what you were like when you woke up last time?"

"No," she said hoarsely.

"Hm. Likely due to the time frame. What time did you wake up before?"

"Morning."

A pencil or quill was scratching across paper. This was all part of his studies, she realized. Monitoring the effects after the experiment was over. Because that's all she was. A test subject, a part of an experiment.

"I'll have to do something about your screaming. It gets tiresome, and if your friend Char were to visit before your voice had time to recover, things could get...complicated."

Tiresome. Her screaming was tiresome. Never mind the reason she was screaming, the intense pain that still lingered in her body whenever she tried to move.

"What did you feel last time when you woke up?"

"Stiff, sore, achy," she croaked.

"And now?"

The latch clicked in the door, and she brought her head upright with difficulty, the simple motion sending fire through her neck and making her whimper.

"Pain on movement," he muttered, scratching away on the paper.

The fairies zoomed in, bearing trays of food. They propped the trays up on little wooden legs over Iris' lap, but hovered hesitantly in front of Micah.

"Well?" he demanded.

They darted in quickly, setting the legs and zipping away as fast as they could to rest on the sofa beside Iris, opposite from Micah. He chuckled.

"My, they have become fond of you."

"I don't hurt them," she rasped out.

"And you have offered to take their punishment. There is the matter of that book," he said thoughtfully.

One fairy lifted a hot teacup to Iris' lips. More came up behind her head, helping her tilt it back for the soothing tea to flow down her throat. She hated this. They treated her this way in private, and although she didn't like being so helpless, there was something intensely uncomfortable about Micah seeing the way they cared for her. Because he would use it against her - against them. She knew that, and they knew it, and they were all stuck.

He chuckled again, and then his hand seized the back of her head, pushing the fairies away and forcing her to face him. The pain made her squeeze her eyes shut, her lips parting in a gasp, and then his lips were on hers, and his tongue was inside her mouth, and it was nothing like Char's kisses at all. This was cold, dispassionate, aggressive, and he tilted her head slightly, drawing another cry of pain from her and swallowing it down his throat, repeating the action with the same effect. When he finally released her, tears were streaming down her cheeks, cyclic waves of burning pain were shooting down her neck, and he was laughing.