The Witching Hour

Chapter 35 - Punishment

Time warped the longer Ivy lay in the cell. She lost track of whatever time had passed, whether that be days or hours, with her irregular sleep schedule and lack of natural light. She slept as often as she could in an attempt to escape the situation at hand. With no books to read or journals to write in, sleep was her lone solace. Hope faded fast the longer the fairies kept her locked up.

At first, she attempted to keep track of time passing by counting her food trays. Three meals a day means three food trays. When those trays disappeared, she tried to hide a piece of silverware – the fairies maintained a level of decorum even for prisoners – but those would vanish as well. On numerous occasions, Ivy tried to connect to her powers or pull on the power of the Pentacle. For a moment, she thought that she felt a flicker of her abilities before a wall slammed down.

Queen Tatiana afforded her no more visits nor did anyone else. The most interaction Ivy had with a person happened in her dreams. In the beginning, she welcomed the visions as an escape from this hellish reality. That is until her sole outlet turned on her. Nightmares plagued her most recent slumbering moments to the point she feared closing her eyes.

Lying on her side on the small cot given to her, Ivy breathed in deeply. Her eyelids drooped shut trying to put her worried mind to rest. As she started her descent into her dreamscape, her cell door croaked open, the light blinding her. Ivy's hand shot up to shield herself, and the door closed.

Hunter sat across the room on a freshly formed block of clay. Shoulders hunched over, he leaned on his knees and kept his gaze locked on the floor. Ivy searched his body language for a clue as to why he would come to her now. She found nothing of substance in his lack of eye contact and bent over posture. Sitting up, Ivy pulled her feet under her and draped the blanket over her legs.

"What are you – "

"The Queen knows everything." Hunter dragged his gaze from the dirt to her red-rimmed eyes. Ivy's breath caught in her throat. "She found out."

Ivy's chest heaved up and down, her mind going into hyper drive. She replayed their last confrontation behind closed lids, trying to pinpoint what the Queen may have learned.

"She knew about Griffin," Ivy tapped her chin, "but we didn't mention much else."

"We mentioned enough for her to get suspicious." Hunter's voice dropped. He sat back against the wall, his hands falling in his lap. He shifted, wincing as pain dashed over his features.

Had this been under different circumstances, Ivy would have darted across the room and into his lap. She would have run her hands through his hair then down his neck until she took a hold of his cheeks. She would have wrapped up with an encouraging word or two and a quick kiss.

How times were different.

Now, she could barely contain her disdain for the man she once called her boyfriend. She met his gaze, anger rippling over her face. Hunter shrank under her glare until his head hung low and his posture crumpled.

"What did you tell her?"

Each word slid out of her mouth like a dagger to his heart, soaring through the room for their intended target. She bridged the gap between them and slammed a fist to the side of his head. Other than the state of their clothes, you would have though she was the jailer and Hunter her prisoner.

Hunter pivoted his body to square up with hers. Breathing in, he closed his eyes and let his shoulders roll back. The tension melted off him. One of his hands played with the one at her side. Ivy yanked it from his grasp and pushed him back. His face scrunched into a grimace yet he remained unfazed.