The Siege of Shadows: Book one

Chains of Devastation (39)*

What is this?" The Seelie King shouted, throwing the silver bowl across the dining hall with a harsh clang. "Are you feeding the beast, Theros?

"That beast is a queen!" Kael's voice was low, the anger seething beneath the calm exterior. He stood his ground, refusing to flinch.

"She was a queen," the Seelie King seethed, his lips curling in disgust. "Now your mother is nothing more than a mindless, drooling beast."
I gasped. Mother? The wolf—the one chained to the castle steps—was Kael's mother?

"She is still a queen," Kael responded, his voice cold but unwavering.

"Ah, yes, of course." The Seelie King laughed viciously as he reached for his wineglass. "All hail Queen Ceri, may she reign over all the mangy, flea-ridden beasts of the Seelie kingdom!" He raised his glass in mock reverence, the other courtiers following suit with forced laughter, their smiles sharp and cruel.

The servants along the walls remained silent, their ears pointed but smaller than the others in the room. Their faces were rounder, less sharp, and their eyes betrayed the weariness of those who were used to being overlooked.

But Kael did not falter. His gaze locked with the Seelie King's, filled with contempt. The laughter that followed only seemed to fuel his resolve.

The queen, Kael's mother, might be a beast in the eyes of the Seelie King, but she was still a queen. And even if they stripped her of her crown and her dignity, I would not forget who she had been.

The Seelie King's laughter echoed through the room, a malicious sound that sent a cold chill down my spine. He was enjoying this far too much, savoring each word as he played his cruel game.

"Well, Theros," the King said, his voice turning oily with dark amusement, "perhaps it's time you had something real to focus on. You've had your fun with that wolf—now you need something to occupy your time properly." His eyes turned to me, and I felt the weight of his gaze like a thousand needles against my skin. I tried to shrink away, but my feet were frozen in place.

My heart raced. I could feel his eyes crawling over me, stripping me bare. I wanted to cover myself, but the humiliation was already crushing. I could taste the bitterness in the back of my throat, my hands clenching into fists at my sides.

"I think," the King continued, his voice oozing with malicious satisfaction, "that it's clear what you really need, Theros. Something real to focus on." His lips curled into a mocking grin. "I mean, you've already shown interest in her, haven't you?"

Heat flooded my cheeks, and my stomach twisted into knots. The memories crashed back—of the cell, the cold stone walls, of Kael's hands gripping me, holding me in place as the brutal weight of his actions tore through me. The agony of his roughness, his claim on my body, still echoed in my skin, in my bones. The brand had left its mark on me—on my flesh, on my soul.

The King's laughter echoed again, but it felt different now. It was a sinister thing, a sound that made me want to break open and disappear. But I couldn't. I was trapped, shackled not just by chains but by the horror of this moment.

"But I think the real question here is, Kael," the King purred, his voice thick with derision, "how good a lay she must be."

I couldn't breathe. The words felt like a lash across my skin. How dare he talk about me like that? Like I was nothing but a piece of meat, to be used and discarded.

"Isn't that right?" The King grinned, his eyes never leaving Kael. "A fiery little thing, I bet. You must've enjoyed yourself."

I wanted to scream. I wanted to tear this whole place down, to make him see me for what I was—not an object, not a thing to be passed around for sport—but I couldn't move. I couldn't even meet Kael's eyes, not with the weight of the King's words suffocating me. I felt as if I were shrinking under the intensity of the humiliation, my body betraying me as I stood there, nothing more than a trophy for their amusement.