The cell door swung open with a low groan, and the guard stepped inside. Covering his mouth and nose, I noticed, was a length of gray fabric that he wrapped around his head. He breathed heavily through it. "Stand."
Throwing a quick glance at Nephele, I shuffled to my feet with growing reluctance, and the man pulled both hands behind my back. I held my wrists apart as he tied them together with a thick rope, and found a small amount of space between them when he finished. Not much, but it was certainly something I could work with.
As we walked, one guard flanking either side and another behind me, I observed the shadowy, dingy environment. The hallway seemed to roll on and on, the ending out of sight. It was completely dark at the end; nothing but the occasional torches lining the dismal walls lit the prison. I could not decipher what the time was. Not underground.
How long have I been here? My mind drifted back to Phoenix, unconscious on the floor of my own castle. I'd left him there alone. Did someone find him? How terrible was the wound? In such an unclear state of mind, I was unable to get a closer look at it. All I could recollect now was the red soaked into his chest and his clothing.
I tugged quietly on the ropes tying my hands. There was no time to fret over Phoenix yet. I squeezed my eyes shut, silently begging his forgiveness. If he was still alive by the time I found him, I'd worry then.
"Hurry up," demanded the guard to my left. He pulled harshly on my arm. "The Master does not like to be kept waiting."
"The Master?" I mumbled, and in a louder voice, "Where are we going?"
"You will see."
I sighed heavily. Each step induced a stabbing pain in my side, and I grimaced each time, inhaling sharply. Whenever I slowed, the man behind me forced me forward once more, making me stumble and trip over the uneven stone.
More to stop my mind from wandering than for the purpose of finding out, I tried again. "Who is the Master?"
The squat man to my right stared daggers at me. "Silence, devil."
"We're almost there anyway," added the one to my left. He drew a long, curved blade from a sheath hanging from his side and held it to my throat, roughly pulling my back to his chest. I grunted. "You will not disrespect the Master. Make one move without the Master's permission, and you will be spoon fed the blade of my sword."
Standing ahead of us, a pair of massive doors edged with gold loomed largely. A strange sight in such a horrid place- it looked nearly as though it could have belonged in my own castle. When the guards took one circular, silver handle each and heaved the door open, my jaw dropped.
Beneath the grounds, hidden behind the haggard slaves and miners, the filthy cells and dirty water, was what appeared to be an entire throne room. The high ceiling was held up by pearl-white pillars, emerging from the polished tan tiles stretching across the floor. At the end of the hall, the dainty ashen steps led up to an elevated platform with a long table seating a large group of people. And at the head, a lean woman with caramel skin sat with one leg crossed over the other. A mask covered her mouth and nose. Half the rest of her face was covered by a cascade of jet-black hair.
Several pairs of eyes followed me as I stumbled forward from the shove my escort gave me. With an impossible swiftness, he manacled together my wrists and shackled my ankles, then cinched my wings to my torso with a thicker chain. The security of the bonds made it difficult to breathe on top of the pain in my side.
"Kneel, boy." His voice was rough, and I refused. His jaw tightened beneath the cloth, and he seized my arms, forcing me to my knees. With a stubbornness I didn't realize I'd developed, I fixed my legs to sit on the floor instead, vaguely recalling my father's words. A king should bow to no one.
The woman at the head regarded me with a hint of amusement before rising from her chair. Her heels clacked on the marble as she made her way in front of me.
When she spoke, I drew in a sharp, hushed breath. I should've recognized her immediately, and it all seemed to fit in place.
"What a pity," Delphine purred, bringing her hand to my face and brushing my jawline. I jerked my head away, and she smirked.
I scowled. "This has to be a joke."
"A joke?" She blurted out a condescending laugh. "No, I'm afraid not, Your Majesty," she spat.
"What happened to your horns?" Delphine looked surprised, even touching her hand to her head. "And your wings? Did they take them?"
Her lip curled with a sneer, like a cat's. "You haven't figured it out? I thought you were clever." I narrowed my eyes at her, and she smirked again, only increasing my frustration. "I never had any."
"What?"
She sighed, shaking her head. "Must I spell it out for you? I am not Empyrean." Delphine's dress skated my legs as she swung around me, behind me now. A heap of crumpled parchment fell into my lap and my eyes widened in realization. Scribbled on it messily, I recognized my nearly unrecognizable handwriting, describing in perfect detail every location of every gear, cog, and spring of the wings I'd made. Sketches littered the margins of the pages, of the different types of wings, and the way the feathers were arranged. Delphine smiled at me patronizingly. "You really ought not to leave your papers in such an easily accessible place, Your Majesty. Nor should your bedroom be as easily accessible as it was, and yet," she shrugged her shoulders, "here we've come."
"But," I began, still trying to comprehend what she was showing me. It wasn't possible. "That soldier guarding my door.. Roland.. How did you get in so easily?"
"Is that his name?" Delphine asked with a grin, twisting the sleeve of her dress around her finger. "Shame. He was a pretty one. Sorrow often clouds beauty, however, as does it muddle the mind. I believe I understand that he and that dead cripple friend of yours were close, were they not?" I glared at her with as much hatred as I could muster. "I suppose that's a yes?"
Lowering my head, I drew in a deep, focused breath. As much as I didn't want it to, the pieces seemed to be fitting together like a puzzle. Of course. Of course the most trusted member of my council would be the one who'd have access to most anything. And as the only one who'd taken my opinion seriously during my father's rule, she'd misled me with ease into favouring her before I was even seated on the throne.
"You make things much easier than they should be. You are a fool for a king." With a sharp snap of her fingers, two men sitting at the table stood and hefted a stretcher towards us, setting it down in front of me. Laying limply on it were a pair of wings- no, Delphine's wings, and her horns.
Delphine pulled back a section of the feathers to reveal the gears beneath. They were terribly perfect- they followed my plan down to the last scratch etched on the paper. And it worked. I couldn't find it in myself to feel pride in the horror of the situation, for what they'd been used for.
"Although this one stack of papers puts years of studying to waste, it was worth the effort," Delphine said as she walked away from me, taking her seat once more at the head of the table. "No longer shall we have to capture your citizens until this war is over."
My head was spinning, swimming with all this new information. It was coming as an enormous shock. "Wait," I said wearily. "What efforts?"
She frowned. It looked genuine. "Has another piece of information slipped past you yet again? You really are much more shallow than I'd anticipated."
"I'd say the same to you."
In a flash, the man standing behind me snatched my arm and twisted hard. I choked out a strangled gasp. My shoulder suddenly felt engulfed in fire, spreading quickly down my arm and back. Hissing from the pain, my body instinctively curled inwards as I tried to catch my breath. In, out, slowly. A hand was still wrapped around my bicep, ready to twist again.
"You will not disrespect the Master," he growled, swinging his leg. His armoured boot collided with my side, pulling a grunt from my lips as air was forced from my lungs. "Your words insult her."
"I think that was the point," I gasped, unable to contain myself. He kicked me again and I winced. It was sure to be bruised.
Above me, Delphine starred in near pity. "It would do you well to learn to control that sharp tongue of yours. But for this purpose," she paused, then grinned widely, "such a loud mouth will do me well in my endeavors. Come."
Immediately, both men hooked their arms beneath my own and hoisted me up. My field of vision was blurring with such sudden movement, and I staggered when they began forcing me forward.
"Where are we going?" Delphine glanced over her shoulder at me, cocking her head with a smile.
"I have a few questions for you. However, with so many people here, I don't have the privacy I'd prefer to have for this." Leading us down a long, winding hallway, she plucked a torch from its sconce and held it ahead of us. The place looked vaguely familiar to me, a prodding thought in the back of my mind. Both soldiers at my sides and Delphine pulled their masks tighter on their faces, while I was left to inhale the dusty, humid air.
The stench from the underground lingered, but it smelled different here. Like the foul, hot breath of an animal. The same thought continued to block my mind. I've been here before, haven't I? But it was impossible.
Only when I felt the small, grating nails of a rat against the bridge of my foot, just as I did the first night here at the castle, did my muscles tense, the memory returning to me. "Are these...?"
"The torture chambers?" She turned back to me with a sly look in her eyes. "Yes, they are. Perhaps you're not as stupid as I thought."
I gulped. I had to get out of here. I'd studied Icaria's infamous torture techniques before, when I was younger, and I wasn't able to sleep for weeks on end. It was no wonder they had so little crimes- their people didn't dare to. It wasn't worth the risk.
My thoughts veered back to the day the war prisoners had returned after two years. Two years of enduring these methods of pain. I'd heard from Lydia that Roland had gone through years of therapy before he was alright again- he'd nearly gone mad without Anastasia there.
I have no one.
With my palms beginning to sweat, I tried to stall for time. "What were you saying about your efforts?"
Delphine hesitated, then fell back to walk beside me. "If you are interested," she said with a pause. "Icaria has been researching the wings of Empyrea for years. Alas, with so little information to start with, and no models, we had close to nothing to study. We began," she cleared her throat, "borrowing the wings from Empyreans."
"'Borrowing?' You stole my citizens and held them here for years." I was seething with anger. "Your pretty words do nothing to hide the severity of what you're doing!" The hand on my arm tightened in warning.
"And what of your own actions?" Delphine glowered at me, clenching her fists. "You criticize Icaria, but have no awareness for your own kingdom?" She spread her arms wide, splaying her hands. "This is war, not a playground, and yet you are a mere child with a crown on his head!"
I gritted my teeth. "Don't you think I know that?!"
"Enough!" I flinched at the harshness of her voice. She let her hands drop, defeated for a moment. "No more questions from you- only I will ask. You," she pointed towards one of the guards, "come with me. The rest shall lead him and follow."
My eyes widened, and I instantly began squirming against the guard, which only made him hold me tighter. I knew what would happen there.
Delphine laughed menacingly, stealing the whip from her guard's hands. "This is only a whip. It isn't even the beginning of all the things I could do to you."
With that, she beckoned us further, and the guards dragged me with them into a darkened room, completely stone walled. Nothing decorated the walls except for a single sconce, occupied, and a set of manacles hanging from the ceiling. I shuddered.
Delphine leaned against the wall with a scowl as the men lifted me, making sure the manacles clamped tightly around my wrists. When they let go, I had to suppress a cry- my feet barely brushed the ground. It was hard on my shoulders.
"Leave us," she demanded, and the guards quickly obeyed. She turned back to me, drawing a knife from within her dress.
"Now. You will answer my questions and obey me," The blade sliced away the mangled fabric covering my torso, "and if not," She tossed the knife onto the ground and adjusted the whip in her hands with a sneer, "you will beg for death before I'm finished with you."